Thank you, Tom.
I waited a few days to write this, largely because I didn’t want to capitalize on Tom’s departure from the Patriots as a facet of my own life.
But I knew that I wouldn’t be able to escape my desire to get all of my thoughts on there…so here it goes:
When I was five or six, my dad introduced me to the game of football. I distinctly remember my dad cheering for Drew Bledsoe at a time when most people had no hope for Drew in the Belichick system. And then, almost out of nowhere, draft pick 199 took the field. Approximately two months later, my dad bought me my first Patriots jersey: a classic Tom Brady #12 jersey made out of that original jersey material that reminds you of playing high school sports. I got it for Christmas, and holy shit, I was excited. By this point, I had learned to love football and more importantly, I’d learned to love the New England Patriots. I was so young that I didn’t even really know what I was cheering for, but I knew I loved Tom Brady. For years, the joke in my family was “Melissa loves Uncle Tom more than her own uncles.”
Over the last twenty years, I’ve suffered from many ups and downs, some from mental health struggles and some from personal loss and change. One constant has been my love for Boston sports, the New England Patriots, and Tom Brady as our fearless leader. I’ve jokingly said to many people that Tom Brady is the most reliable man in my life besides my father — and let me tell you, I fucking mean it.
It’s super easy to hate Patriots fans and Boston sports; we’ve not only been lucky enough to win an irritating amount of championships, but we’re also extremely cocky. But when I think about the Patriots, I think about Tom. Everything he’s given back to Boston, to the league, to the fans… to his teammates. I think about the bonds he created with Jules and Gronk and the McCourty twins. The leadership he’s provided to each new draft class and the humility in which he’s approached every new Patriots. Importantly, I remember every pay cut and restructuring of contract he’s taken to ensure that the Patriots have the best chance of winning another championship. There’s a lot you can say about the Patriots and Tom Brady, but it’s hard to dismiss his selflessness.
Although I recognize that I don’t know him personally (and never will), the lessons I learned from watching Tom translated into my own life. Playing sports, coaching, leading teams — I channel that leadership and humility in my day-to-day, with the hope that it will make an impact on someone in my life. I suppose my love for Tom and the Patriots shows why sports are so integral to our community: they bring us together, they teach us lessons, and they build community. Having something to believe in when you’re at your worst, even if it may be intangible or out of your reach, provides a sense of comfort that can be difficult to find.
Now that Tom is moving on to bigger things, I suspect many assume that most Patriots fans will have a negative reaction. But I think most people recognize everything he’s done for our crazy community, because I know that I do. It’s a bit silly to put so much stock into an athlete and their contributions to your personal life. But, as someone whose personal life intertwines with sports in remarkable ways, I can’t help but think about how my approach to professional sports will change as a result of such a major departure. I know that I will cheer for Tom no matter where he goes, and I know I’m grateful for the lessons I learned from him from afar. I have this burning hope that I’ll be able to cheer Bill, Jules, Devin, Slater, Gostkowski, and all my other favorite Patriots on just as hard as I did with Tom at the helm (full disclosure: SG is my favorite Patriot).
I guess, in summary, I am thankful to have spent my formative years cheering on someone who provided a sense of stability in my life when I craved it. I am open about my own struggles with mental health; routine and stability are cornerstones of my approach in working through those struggles. As insanely stupid as it sounds, some of those ups and downs were tempered by the ability to lose my mind in sports every Sunday and cheer for my Patriots and my GOAT. I spent the entire week posting on social media about TB12, resulting in jokes and eye rolls from my friends and peers. But in reality, the fact is that I’ll miss having Tom as our quarterback because I will miss his reliability, his tenacity, and his love of our fanbase. Being able to cheer for someone that gives 100 percent to his sporting community is a comforting reminder when days are darker that I’d like. The scariest part of writing this is that I know I haven’t even discussed how Tom’s success defined New England or brought together a community under one umbrella. Tom isn’t flashy or loud or a running quarterback… he’s just a nice guy that’s a little dorky that also happens to be a great father (and a slow runner). But holy shit, he taught us what determination and hard work looks like. He taught us why you can’t discount a sixth rounder, no matter how hard you try.
Tom — we were lucky to have you for twenty incredible years. Those were the most formative years of my life; I can say for certain you inspired and influenced me to be the best leader and human being that I can be. I’ll miss you… but I’m excited to cheer you on in whatever’s next (Go Bucs!).
