Minnesota: Something really strange is happening this week on this Super Bowl’s frozen plains.
Tom Brady is thawing out.
When the week began, with the New England Patriots’ Brady playing quarterback in this game for the record eighth time, much of the country was like, him again?
Now it’s more like, who again?
Just as he is closing in on goodbye, Brady, 40, has decided to say hello, revealing a side of himself that has little to do with deflating footballs or blowing up history.
He has talked like somebody’s father.
“My kids are saying, ‘Yeah, daddy, all my friends said go win the Super Bowl!’ “ he said.
He has talked liked somebody’s son.
“My mom doesn’t think I’ve ever done anything wrong. She tells me, ‘Oh, no, you played great.’ She’s always just being a mom, always being protective of her son,” Brady said.
He has talked about spending a couple of weeks each summer at his grandparents’ farm in Browerville, a small town two hours northwest of Minneapolis.
“I remember my uncles gave me chewing tobacco for the first time when I was really young,” Brady said. “Within five minutes I’m outside the car throwing up all over the place.”
If the Patriots defeat the Philadelphia Eagles on Sunday at US Bank Stadium, Brady will become the oldest quarterback to win a Super Bowl, earning a sixth ring, most by a quarterback, while further cementing his legacy as the greatest ever to play the position.
But during interviews this week, along with the “Tom versus Time” documentary showing on Facebook, it sounds as if he wants to be remembered as something else, something more closely resembling a human being than the dandelion greens-eating alien who frequently has stolen January during the past 18 years.
It’s a strange, unsettling look. A conflicting look.
Most of America outside of New England is conditioned to be sick of Brady, who along with coach Bill Belichick has come to symbolise an arrogant franchise whose incredible achievements have been tainted with stolen plays, spying cameras and flattened footballs.
Brady has never been loved like Peyton Manning, or admired like John Elway, or good-old-boy embraced like Brett Favre. He has always been as distant as his stare, as unknowable as his playbook.
Last autumn, he published a best-selling book touting his unique methods of staying in shape and folks rolled their eyes. He literally dropped the microphone after a rousing speech at the Patriots’ send-off rally on Monday and folks shook their heads.
After the underdog rush of this former sixth-round draft pick’s first championship win in 2002 subsided, Brady’s greatness has been accepted begrudgingly, his Super Bowl presence only tolerated.
Quick, show of hands: How many of you failed to appreciate Brady’s brilliant, short-handed fourth-quarter comeback against the Jacksonville Jaguars in the AFC championship game because you wanted Jacksonville in the Super Bowl? Outside of New England, the answer is probably everybody.
It’s almost as if Brady realises this. It’s as if he believes it’s finally time to turn that harsh spotlight on him into a soft glow. When he sat with a mass of reporters and cameras on Tuesday, he wore a plain grey hoodie, a black glove on his healing right hand and a smile so kindly you wanted to see whether he was sitting on a rocker.
“Like everyone, you learn and grow as you go,” Brady said.
He said he couldn’t wait to get home to his family.
“I love the time I have with my kids. I’m really looking forward to being with them a lot more often. There’s early mornings I’m gone at 5.30am, my wife has got them in the morning, taking them to school, making their lunch. I realise I’ve got to pull my end of the bargain this off-season. I look forward to that.”
He’s now old enough to know how he wants to be remembered, and it’s got little to do with football, and he seems intent on making that happen before it’s too late.
It feels like the equivalent of a last-second drive for acceptance, so you know what that means.
Even if you’re not buying it now, you can never count Tom Brady out.
