An Open Letter to Tom Brady From One of His Most Loyal Supporters

Dear Tom,

I preface this letter with these videos just as a reminder that we have a long history of mutual respect. And to assure you that everything that follows is coming from a place of love. I was not one of those Barstool guys who got arrested on your behalf 10 years ago. But that's only because Deflategate happened during two-year window in which I was defending you on WEEI every day. If I'd been here then, I would've proudly added this one charge to an otherwise unblemished criminal record. Even though with my boyish good looks and delicate bone structure, I wouldn't have lasted a minute in a Manhattan lockup before I was someone else's property and being traded for a pack of smokes. I would've only regretted that I had but one body to give for my quarterback. 

Instead, fate saw to it that I defend you in other, less self-sacrificing ways. Like reminding everyone your story is nothing less than what's best about America itself:

So with those bona fides established, I believe it's time that you and I talk. Confident in the understanding that I only want what's best for you. That I'm approaching you with the same care an consideration that I showed my own sons when one was spending too much time playing Call of Duty and the other was missing too many homework assignments. The way my brother Bill came to me the morning after my friends and I let one buddy's sisters pierce our ears and he said to me, "That fucking thing in your fucking ear looks fucking ridiculous." In each example, just a man with some wisdom and life experience trying to guide someone he cares about through this world. Not as criticism, but an act of kindness.

What I need to talk with you about it is this:

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Look, I get that you're trying new things. You should. You put much of your life on hold from the time you got to Michigan until the day you re-retired (for good) in 2023. You did so in order to pursue impossible, unachievable levels of excellence in your chosen field. You've gone from spending four hours a day studying safety rotations to a world of infinite possibilities. So you should absolutely open yourself to new experiences. After all, if your post-football life was a person, it would barely be out of Pull Ups, still unable to tie its own shoes, and half the food it lives off of would be shaped like dinosaurs and Spongebob. Your retirement needs to fill its young, developing brain by exploring new things as much as possible. 

And to be fair, wrestling is objectively fun. There's not a man alive who at some point didn't watch it and fantasize about what they would do if they were entering the arena to whip a raucous crowd into a frenzy. Hell, 2.2% of all men who have held the office of President of the United States beat the bag out of Vince McMahon in the ring:

But all those other men (I raise my hand) weren't Tom fricking Brady. When Trump mixed it up next to the squared circle, he was a Manhattan real estate developer and Reality TV attention whore who was running around bragging to Billy Bush about this special handshake he'd developed for meeting ladies. If he'd done this after he was Commander-in-Chief, the way Jimmy Carter build Habitat for Humanity homes or Teddy Roosevelt explored the Amazon, it would be an entirely different dynamic. 

It's the same with you. You might never have been POTUS, but GOAT is just as powerful an acronym. It brings with it certain responsibilities. As Jack Woltz put it to Tom Hagen, "A man in my position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous!" And you have to admit, he looked pretty silly, screaming like a little girl when he woke up next to his horse's head. But even he didn't look as ridiculous as a 7-time Super Bowl QB fake slapping Jake Paul, plagiarizing The Undertaker, pulling off the most unconvincing chair smack of all time, and flipping the State Bird of Massachusetts for the camera at the World Cup. 

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You can try to branch out all you want. But trying to play Tom Brady, Wrestling Heel was a bad idea that never should've made it past the initial pitch. Getting outside your comfort zone is admirable. But a bad idea is a bad idea. And I say this as a man who let his friend's sister pierce his ear once. That wasn't me, and this isn't you. Casting you as the heel was as convincing as John Wayne playing Genghis Khan. I'd say "Nice try," but it was neither nice or much of a try. 

And it speaks to a much larger issue. As you feel your way through this new, post-football reality, too many things have just come across as increasingly weird. Those of us who were along for your journey and supporting you without question through the fake NFL scandals, allegations of getting special treatment from the refs, being a "system quarterback," people saying it was all coaching and not you (yes they did, though they'll deny it now), claims you were just lucky, all the kooky pseudo-science about nutrition and pliability, the way you left New England on St. Patrick's Day and the unretirement, and the "no dog in the fight" comment at the Super Bowl, have had to do a lot of heavy lifting lately. This WWE gag was just another log thrown onto that pile.

I've heard from two friends over the weekend. One said I won't want to hear this, but he's through with you. He compared you to Peyton Manning. Unfavorably. Saying Manning is a genuine, authentic guy who, even though he grew up the son of an NFL legend and was the No. 1 overall pick, can relate to the common man in ways you simply can't. The other friend told of a random encounter he had with Peyton, Eli and Archie, and how gracious, friendly, and real they were to this ordinary guy who just happened to be standing next to them outside a restaraunt waiting for the valet. The implication from both being that even though the Mannings were children of privilege, they're way more relatable than you've become. 

A piece of me would die if I were to accept they're right. But that slap, coffin stunt, chair attack and middle finger don't make it any easier. 

The Germans have a word: Fremdschamen. It basically means second hand shame. Feeling embarrassment for someone who seems to lack the capacity to be embarrassed for themselves. That's the best way to describe all of this. We all make mistakes as we try new things. Just check the bag of old clothes next time you make a dropoff at the Goodwill box for proof. So let's chalk this one up as a big one. And please endeavor to just be the Tom Brady we all knew, loved, and pledged our loyalty to. 

This guy:

Not this guy:

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Your pal,

Jerry Thornton