Pop Really, Tom Brady? Really Tampa Bay? Look, I knew Florida would change him eventually. But I had no inkling that it would be this soon. And this radically.
Where are only one half of football into the 2020 season and already I don’t recognize the guy I have been obsessing over for two decades. I mean, I figured it was only a matter of time before he assimilated into the culture down in America’s Wang. I figured he’d be doing ads for Personal Injury attorneys. Cash For Gold stores. Maybe shady ministers from the Church of the Presumptuous Assumption or whatever. But Frito Lay? I did not see this coming.
So we are clear, nobody enjoys salty, starchy, saturated fat laden snack treats more than I do. I would happily sacrifice ice cream for the rest of my life in exchange for sticking my snout into a freshly opened foil bag of chips.
But that’s me. I’m a lazy, sedentary slob. Half man, half sofa. I’m not a genetically perfect meta-human who has spent the last decade telling people I pack my kids’ lunch boxes with dehydrated algae, kale shakes and spirulina.
I don’t know. I guess my image is shattered. New England Tom used to Hawk things like ridiculously expensive designer watches, precision engineered British sports cars, and mattresses that cost more than my swimming pool. Now he’s doing weirdo Christmas themed commercials for chips in early September.
So congratulations, Florida you win. You’ve already taken the GOAT and turned him into one of you.