One night earlier this year, I ran into friends in New York who happened to be with Julian Edelman. After a breakout season, Edelman had been debating whether to re-sign or leave for a bigger offer … which meant he’d be leaving Tom Brady. And his friends were busting his balls about it. Go ahead, leave Brady — see what happens. It was actually pretty funny.

Edelman knew what I did for a living. He had a couple of drinks in him. He was feeling emotional about Brady — again, it was unclear whether they were done as teammates — and launched into an endearingly genuine monologue about Brady’s brilliance. What an unbelievable teammate Brady was. What an unbelievable quarterback he was. How he worked harder, day in and day out, than any teammate Edelman had ever had. How he owed everything to the guy. We joked that Edelman almost sounded like a religious fanatic discussing the Cult of Brady or something. But that’s how he felt.

I asked him how long Brady could keep playing, and without hesitation, Edelman said, “As long as he wants.”

“Like, 43?”

Edelman nodded. He described Brady as a “football machine,” adding, “He’s in bed by eight thirty every night!” He had never seen anything like Tom Brady. He couldn’t imagine Brady NOT playing football. Six more years, at least. That’s what he believed.

(And yes, Edelman re-signed with the Patriots just a few weeks later. Let’s just say I wasn’t surprised.)