http://espn.go.com/nfl/story/_/id/14615476/new-england-patriots-qb-tom-brady-big-reveal
I would say click the link but many of you wont so I'll try and post the whole article.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Tom Brady's big reveal
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" width="100%"> By Kevin Van Valkenburg
ESPN The Magazine
EVEN WHEN HE is dressed in a lumpy Patriots sweatshirt and stocking cap, standing before a wall of cameras, Tom Brady manages to look regal. He is so guarded, so calm and Kennedy-esque as he listens, nods and then gracefully says nothing. It's almost easy to forget what a competitive lunatic he becomes on the field.
Put Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr. in front of a referee who he believes has missed a holding call, put him in front of a wide receiver who ran the wrong route, watch him stand face mask to face mask with a linebacker who he openly loathes, and he is anything but Clooney cool. His voice, measured and steady in casual conversation, climbs three octaves when it's warmed by the fires of football, becoming as shrill and intense as the squeal of an owl. He is an F-bomb-dropping, spittle-spraying, mini-tornado of fury. He is in those moments -- and this is said with genuine admiration -- a ferocious ass who wants to win so badly that on the field, he cares not one bit about his brand or the image he's supposed to project and protect. It has always been the most revealing and raw aspect of Brady's personality.
Consider, for example, his most recent bout of competitive mania: In the Patriots' 27-20 AFC divisional playoff win over the Chiefs, Brady made a surprising second-quarter dash for the end zone, only to be drilled hard in the back at the goal line by Kansas City safety Tyvon Branch. It was like watching your uncle drive the lane while wearing snow boots in a YMCA basketball game -- horrifying and mesmerizing. As the referees huddled and eventually declared that Brady had not scored a touchdown, the quarterback jogged to the sideline, his temper close to a boil. The crowd, energized by what had just transpired, began chanting his name. Brady put his arm around New England offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels and began roaring and shaking McDaniels' neck like an agitated lion. He wanted New England to challenge the call. McDaniels informed him the team had already thrown a challenge flag. But Brady was so charged with adrenaline, he was barely listening.
Wide receiver Julian Edelman, one of Brady's closest friends, could not suppress his laughter from a few feet away. "Any time the big Clydesdale gets going down the field," Edelman said, "it gets everybody all fired up."
This season, Brady seemed determined to narrow his focus, to tighten his inner circle and block out distractions in pursuit of a fifth Super Bowl ring. No football player in the history of the game has ever been so good for so long while artfully finding ways to keep the public at arm's length. With the criticism of Deflategate still hanging in the air, it seemed likely Brady would make his case for football immortality with the polite aloofness and cold-blooded calm of a Derek Jeter. Instead, he ended up revealing more of himself in one year than he had in the previous 15 seasons.
Love him, hate him, respect him or resent him, Tom Brady finally gave us a window into his life. He is as human to us, now, as he has ever been.
<table align="right" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td rowspan="2" width="5">
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</td></tr><tr><td width="608">[FONT=verdana, arial, geneva]Despite his best efforts to remain secretive, the public is starting to see a more relatable, human Tom Brady.[/FONT]</td></tr></tbody></table> WE ARE, AS of this week, one year removed from the strange Kabuki theater that started Deflategate. That the case is still pending seems somewhat improbable, but it's true. (The NFL's appeal of Brady's four-game suspension getting overturned in federal court is scheduled for March 3.) What is clear, looking back, is not so much Brady's definitive guilt or innocence, but rather how much smaller this controversy likely would have been if it hadn't involved Brady. (The Vikings and Panthers, for instance, were both issued warnings for using sideline heaters to warm footballs on a cold day just a month and a half before the AFC Championship Game.) The error-filled media leaks; the pearl-clutching concern about the integrity of the game; an investigation that seemed determined to find guilt as much as facts; a comedy of circumstance interwoven with league politics; all of it is surreal, in retrospect.
If you believe that the NFL and the media tried to break him -- and you can bet plenty of people believe these things, and not just those who reside in New England and practice their shirtless Rob Gronkowski spikes in front of the mirror -- you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction that he is still standing, determined as ever.
"Tom Brady is one of the most misunderstood athletes or celebrities that we have in this country," said one of Brady's former teammates, who won a Super Bowl with him early in his career. "If you can't look at what Brady's done and appreciate and embrace who he is, then you're missing what's great about America."
If Deflategate offered a hidden blessing (if not for him, then for us), it was the reveal of little windows into Brady, buried in snippets of depositions and emails turned over as evidence. At some point during his career, likely around the time he married a woman whose fame and income dwarfed even his own, he ascended to a level of celebrity that is almost impossible for mortals to comprehend. You might trash your cell phone too if you feared its contents would leak along with whatever is left of your privacy. Every Instagram post, every scarf choice, every scooter ride in the park with his kids sparks minor hysteria. His admission, just recently, that he has never so much as tried a cup of coffee was reported with the kind of breathless fervor that rivals an Edward Snowden disclosure. Even the smallest things in Brady's daily life ("OMG, check out this Vine of Brady doing an awkward dad dance!") set off a frenzy of gawking, sharing and arguing.
"I don't think a lot of people know personally who I am," Brady said in early September during a radio interview. "They may know what they think I may be, or what they see on the TV screen when I'm exposed publicly to them. For people who may think they know, or have snippets of who I am, you can attack that person. That's part of being a public figure."
The mundanities of his life, though, were oddly compelling. Like so many of us, he has stepped on his phone, dropped it out of his bag and watched the screen shatter against the floor. He can't remember if he has read every boring memo sent around by his bosses. He texts more often than he calls (approximately 9,000 during one four-month period, or close to 75 per day). He refers to people as "babe" and "bud" when he wants them to feel comfortable. He remembers faces around the office, but not every name. He sometimes can't figure out how to print stuff off his home computer. He swells with pride when his son gets an award at school for reading. He gets a little fired up when he's compared to Peyton Manning, and believes he has "seven or eight more seasons left," while Manning has but two.
I would say click the link but many of you wont so I'll try and post the whole article.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Tom Brady's big reveal
<hr noshade="noshade" size="1" width="100%"> By Kevin Van Valkenburg
ESPN The Magazine
EVEN WHEN HE is dressed in a lumpy Patriots sweatshirt and stocking cap, standing before a wall of cameras, Tom Brady manages to look regal. He is so guarded, so calm and Kennedy-esque as he listens, nods and then gracefully says nothing. It's almost easy to forget what a competitive lunatic he becomes on the field.
Put Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr. in front of a referee who he believes has missed a holding call, put him in front of a wide receiver who ran the wrong route, watch him stand face mask to face mask with a linebacker who he openly loathes, and he is anything but Clooney cool. His voice, measured and steady in casual conversation, climbs three octaves when it's warmed by the fires of football, becoming as shrill and intense as the squeal of an owl. He is an F-bomb-dropping, spittle-spraying, mini-tornado of fury. He is in those moments -- and this is said with genuine admiration -- a ferocious ass who wants to win so badly that on the field, he cares not one bit about his brand or the image he's supposed to project and protect. It has always been the most revealing and raw aspect of Brady's personality.
Consider, for example, his most recent bout of competitive mania: In the Patriots' 27-20 AFC divisional playoff win over the Chiefs, Brady made a surprising second-quarter dash for the end zone, only to be drilled hard in the back at the goal line by Kansas City safety Tyvon Branch. It was like watching your uncle drive the lane while wearing snow boots in a YMCA basketball game -- horrifying and mesmerizing. As the referees huddled and eventually declared that Brady had not scored a touchdown, the quarterback jogged to the sideline, his temper close to a boil. The crowd, energized by what had just transpired, began chanting his name. Brady put his arm around New England offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels and began roaring and shaking McDaniels' neck like an agitated lion. He wanted New England to challenge the call. McDaniels informed him the team had already thrown a challenge flag. But Brady was so charged with adrenaline, he was barely listening.
Wide receiver Julian Edelman, one of Brady's closest friends, could not suppress his laughter from a few feet away. "Any time the big Clydesdale gets going down the field," Edelman said, "it gets everybody all fired up."
This season, Brady seemed determined to narrow his focus, to tighten his inner circle and block out distractions in pursuit of a fifth Super Bowl ring. No football player in the history of the game has ever been so good for so long while artfully finding ways to keep the public at arm's length. With the criticism of Deflategate still hanging in the air, it seemed likely Brady would make his case for football immortality with the polite aloofness and cold-blooded calm of a Derek Jeter. Instead, he ended up revealing more of himself in one year than he had in the previous 15 seasons.
Love him, hate him, respect him or resent him, Tom Brady finally gave us a window into his life. He is as human to us, now, as he has ever been.
<table align="right" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody><tr><td rowspan="2" width="5">
</td><td width="608">
If you believe that the NFL and the media tried to break him -- and you can bet plenty of people believe these things, and not just those who reside in New England and practice their shirtless Rob Gronkowski spikes in front of the mirror -- you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction that he is still standing, determined as ever.
"Tom Brady is one of the most misunderstood athletes or celebrities that we have in this country," said one of Brady's former teammates, who won a Super Bowl with him early in his career. "If you can't look at what Brady's done and appreciate and embrace who he is, then you're missing what's great about America."
If Deflategate offered a hidden blessing (if not for him, then for us), it was the reveal of little windows into Brady, buried in snippets of depositions and emails turned over as evidence. At some point during his career, likely around the time he married a woman whose fame and income dwarfed even his own, he ascended to a level of celebrity that is almost impossible for mortals to comprehend. You might trash your cell phone too if you feared its contents would leak along with whatever is left of your privacy. Every Instagram post, every scarf choice, every scooter ride in the park with his kids sparks minor hysteria. His admission, just recently, that he has never so much as tried a cup of coffee was reported with the kind of breathless fervor that rivals an Edward Snowden disclosure. Even the smallest things in Brady's daily life ("OMG, check out this Vine of Brady doing an awkward dad dance!") set off a frenzy of gawking, sharing and arguing.
"I don't think a lot of people know personally who I am," Brady said in early September during a radio interview. "They may know what they think I may be, or what they see on the TV screen when I'm exposed publicly to them. For people who may think they know, or have snippets of who I am, you can attack that person. That's part of being a public figure."
The mundanities of his life, though, were oddly compelling. Like so many of us, he has stepped on his phone, dropped it out of his bag and watched the screen shatter against the floor. He can't remember if he has read every boring memo sent around by his bosses. He texts more often than he calls (approximately 9,000 during one four-month period, or close to 75 per day). He refers to people as "babe" and "bud" when he wants them to feel comfortable. He remembers faces around the office, but not every name. He sometimes can't figure out how to print stuff off his home computer. He swells with pride when his son gets an award at school for reading. He gets a little fired up when he's compared to Peyton Manning, and believes he has "seven or eight more seasons left," while Manning has but two.
