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Kate Doesn't Understand Why I Fight

I have no issue with Kate coming at me on this Tom Brady "Living With Yourself" cameo for a lot of reasons. I like Kate. Kate has had me on "Zero Blog 30." Kate knows of what she blogs. And Kate knows more about serving the country than any father of a Marine could ever know. 

But, respectfully, what Kate does not know is what it's like to be a Patriots fan. Specifically, what it's like to be a Patriots fan in at a time when the most successful franchise of our time faces a never-ending, suppressing fire barrage of criticism all day, every day. Listen to even the local media coverage of this team for one week and you'll understand why - in language that will resonate with Kate and me - the people of New England want me on that Wall. They NEED me on that Wall. 

"Simple fun"? I wish like hell it could be just "simple fun." You know who would love to laugh about Jupiter, Florida handjobs? Me. You know who has joked about Jupiter, Florida handjobs more than anyone? Me. I uprooted my life for three days to go down to America's Wang for the sole purpose of doing just that. 


But having Tom Brady joke about it is a luxury that is not afforded to this team in this era. Where every thing they do is held to a standard no other franchise in all of sports has to answer to. A very, very serious standard. Where two all-sports stations, two newspapers and a hundred national outlets are constantly chasing ghosts of fake controversies, made up bad blood, fictional rifts, fabricated hatred and speculation about how this owner, coach and quarterback are about to break up their relationships pulled straight out of everybody's asses. 

Believe me when I say that even on a story that landed on Netflix on a Friday night, this is exactly what's been happening around here. I've been correcting the record on phony baloney Patriots "controversies" since Barstool was printed on recycled paper and available for free in newspaper boxes and windowsills of Boston bars. And the next time I'm wrong will be the first. 

In the first few hours of this Paul Rudd project dropping, it was being spun all over the place as Brady's ultimate Fuck You to the owner he said today he loves. His word, not mine. And the football press in this town has been backpedaling like Stephon Gilmore covering a Go route all day. 


I read a lot of Boston sports history books when I was a kid. And just about all of them talked about what it was like for Ted Williams back in the day. When he was the greatest hitter that ever lived and served as a Marine pilot in two wars. But all he ever got from the NINE daily newspapers in town was grief. Where one of them actually started looking into his mom's private life back in San Diego to dig up dirt and prove he was a terrible son. The difference between now and then is, there's a Barstool to push back against that bullshit. Which I'm happy to do.

Trust me, I'd much rather have the kind of fun with this Kate is. And I would, if it was any other quarterback poking lighthearted fun at his boss for getting a harmless handie from a 58-year-old woman. If it were say, Dak Prescott and Jerry Jones. Or Drew Brees and that dead guy who used to carry a parasol. The rest of you have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That Brady's cameo, while hilarious, damages reputations. And my blog, which is grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves reputations. You use words like "handjob", "Asian massage" and "cameo" as a punchline. Deep down in places I wish I could talk about at cocktail parties, I'd like to too. 

But I have a job to do. And it's to set the record straight. And stand with this guy.