This column is taken from the (post-Super Bowl) March
2008 issue of The American Spectator.
A few days before last month’s Giants-Patriots Super Bowl, Rush
Limbaugh’s football pal “Hutch” told a not so funny joke on
Rush’s show. Seems three top quarterbacks dropped in on God. He
asked them, “What do you believe?” Peyton Manning and Brett Favre
each replied they believe in family, winning, and making the best
of their opportunities. God rewarded them by inviting the former
to take the seat on His right, the latter the seat on His left.
That’s when Tom Brady gave God his answer: “I believe you’re in
my seat.”
A laughing Rush reacted, “So you think he’s big-headed going into
this game?”
Unfortunately, it seems a great many Americans seriously did
think just that, a view of a piece with the unprecedented
loathing directed at Brady’s New England Patriots this past
season. The closer they came to perfection, the more contempt
they inspired. Their coach is already regarded as creepier and
more indictable than the late Richard Nixon. By the eve of Super
Bowl Sunday, most every part of the U.S. outside of New England
was pulling hard for the New York Giants. The Patriots would end
their season 18-1. But America was quite content to prefer the
team that finished 14-6.
I’m not saying the Giants don’t deserve unabashed praise for
accomplishing what they did. Anyone who’s followed my local (and
lately woeful) Washington Redskins knows very well that the
Giants franchise is as formidable as any when it comes to
hard-nosed, clutch play. But I am saying that it’s disheartening
that a team as focused and successful as Tom Brady’s should be
treated so dismissively at the pinnacle of its achievement. And
once a golden boy like Brady himself becomes the subject of
disdain, all bets are off.
Not long ago he was rising from obscurity to become a three-time
Super Bowl winner in his first five seasons. What’s more, besides
being the consummate team player, he looked great on the field, a
quarterback sculpted by Michelangelo. Had he been a major league
pitcher, he would have displayed all the style and form of Jim
Palmer. Had he been in the NBA, he would have shown the floor
command and intelligence of Larry Bird. He’s that good. Even in
his non-Super Bowl years, he kept his teams in playoff
contention, knocking off superior opponents such as San Diego
last year in memorable performances.
Then came this past season, in which he found himself with more
receiving talent than he’d ever enjoyed. He carved up opponents
with an unstoppable passing game, and by midseason it was clear
he was in position to break many records and his team a good bet
to go undefeated. Now the fun really began, as the Patriots,
having clinched its number one seed for the playoffs, became the
prey, hunted week after week by opponents with nothing to lose.
This later part of the season revealed the team’s Achilles’ heel:
a defense, however well schooled, that was hardly as physically
dominant as the offense. Yet week after final week Brady always
found ways to outscore the other guys. That is, until the Super
Bowl, when the Giants’ defense went on the offensive. Though even
then, Brady managed one last time to put his team ahead in the
final minutes. He came that close to a perfect season. Hard to
imagine anyone will ever again come closer.
