I think its safe to say that Big Picture Real World 2020 has been, so far, kind of a bummer. Some are calling it a Dumpster fire, which is a descriptive image that’s not quite accurate for the current moment. A Dumpster fire is automatically self-contained, and with protective equipment and tools, the lid can be closed and the fire will smother itself out. That definitely does NOT seem to be the case for Big Picture 2020.
Here, though, its about football, where we go to escape from that real world stuff. But for Patriots fans, maybe the worst and seemingly longest off-season in team history CAN be described as kind of a Dumpster fire.
We knew there was some pretty flammable stuff in there. I covered my ears and closed my eyes like a kid in denial but still heard the rumblings and saw the signs. The Seth Wickersham bombshell piece. The body language and demeanor of “the most miserable 8-0 quarterback in the league”. The frustrating lack of rapport with the young receivers and balls in the dirt. The Brookline mansion listing. The looming free agency with no contract discussions. Even Tom Brady Sr. told us it would end badly years ago.
But still I felt gut-punched. I had held out hope that there would be a last minute deal and Tom Brady’s legacy would be that rare unicorn athlete who retired with his original team. I always try to guard my heart but just couldn’t when it came to Thomas Edward Patrick Brady. He could do no wrong in my mind. Always keeping it professional. Hardest working competitor and humble role model for the new guys. Team over individual accomplishments. Spotless image on and off the field. Someone I pointed to as an example for my boys in both sports and life. I’ve literally said “thank Tom Brady” after a crisis averted. He’s laminated on my celebrity hall pass.
When the deadline for free agency passed with no joyous announcement I smelled the smoke. I already knew March 17, 2020 was going to be a bad day before it even began. We’d just learned schools were closed for the rest of the year. My oldest hockey player’s small town team had their once in a lifetime, Cinderella story trip to Nationals in California cancelled, and our family vacation there for it was off. No recognizable St. Patrick’s Day, quarantine, bleaching the groceries, PANDEMIC.
So when I woke to the news of Tom Brady moving on, it made total sense for Big Picture 2020, and the Patriots Dumpster fire was fully ablaze and engulfed. I cycled through the stages of grief multiple times and I’m not ashamed to admit it felt like actual mourning. Like, “a grown adult woman with kids maybe shouldn’t be blubbering this way over a football player” kind of reaction in my weak moments. But this was someone I pretty much worshipped for 20 years. The 16-20 Patriots games per season are basically sacred in my house and he was an enormous part of that. And when we later learned he was reuniting with Gronk in Tampa, adding fuel to the fire, I’m not gonna lie, it felt a little like the husband running off with the nanny for a bit there. Irrational maybe, but we all have our “hobbies and interests”, right?
With time and distance comes perspective, and while we’ll probably never know all the factors that built and sparked the Dumpster fire of 2020, its not relevant here right now. I believe, until I’m proven wrong, that Bill Belichick has his flame retardant football hazmat suit on. He probably designed it himself and cut the sleeves off. He’s assembling the tools to get the lid closed and put that sucker out (maybe even using some of my favorite drink, Bill’s special Kool-Aid) because this is going to be an intriguing season, no matter what. Fingers crossed for the rest of both Big Picture and Patriots 2020.
