Heavenly Time: NFL Football Is Finally Here 3
Tom Brady hopes the 2010 season has a better ending than occurred a year ago.
There I was the other morning, just trying to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, when through the sound of my own frantic chewing I hear that Patriots quarterback Tom Brady has been involved in some sort of car accident in Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood, near the intersection of Commonwealth Avenue and Gloucester Street.
I nearly choked on my Lucky Charms, as phrases like “New England star sidelined with broken arm,” and “Patriots head into bye week 0-4,” danced through my head, and visions of Brian Hoyer, unable to make Brady’s signature quick reads at NFL speed, getting folded like paper money by oncoming pass rushers flashed before my terrified eyes.
I cowered at the thought of how “unwanted” Randy Moss would feel after several weeks of Hoyer at the helm, and the memory of what things can get like when Moss decides he isn’t happy (just ask a Raiders or Vikings fan).
There was only one thing I could do. Manipulating the marshmallows in my spoon until there was nothing but green clovers for luck, I swallowed the talismanic mouthful and began to feverishly search the internet for details of the incident. It didn’t take long to find out that it was a relatively minor affair, and Brady had suffered only the most superficial of injuries, although a passenger in the other vehicle needed to be freed from the wreckage using the jaws of life and later underwent back surgery.
It would be pure folly for me even to attempt and explain the relief that I felt when I heard the news of Brady’s continuing structural integrity. The incident provoked a staggeringly oppressive feeling of anxiety that had started to swirl through my chest cavity and spread gradually throughout the rest of my body before finally dissipating and leaving me spent and broken, a shell of myself, clutching the edge of the kitchen table and gasping to regain my breath.
Just when I thought I was out of the woods, I began to recover my auditory senses and heard the rest of the morning’s sporting news, and before I knew what hit me, I was on the floor and being beckoned towards an ultra-white light by a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Morgan Freeman.
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