Number 12 and Hero Status

"Tis true, this god did shake." --Julius Caesar, Act I, sc. 2

Ah, football. It makes earth-bound men into heroes, then we discover that they are made of dust like the rest of us. The game between the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and the Dallas Cowboys highlighted this more than anything else this weekend. Yes, I watched quite a bit of football, and I will admit to staying up well past my bedtime last night. I went up to bed at the end of the third quarter, figuring that the Cowboys, who were playing really well and captained by a confident and competent Dak Prescott, would likely win the game. 

They did.

I will readily admit that, in his heyday, Tom Brady was unstoppable. I won't say he walked on water-- not only would that be blasphemous, but it would not be fair to the rest of the hard-working, hard-playing teams he was a member of while he played for the New England Patriots. But he was unbelievably precise: driven, talented, and seemingly able to pull no end of rabbits out of his helmet. Before the media hype got into his blood, he was a committed, good-looking, hungry young football player who had spent much of his youth being overlooked and sitting the bench. He was given a golden chance, and he took it. But then, success and adoration from far and near derailed the Tom Terrific train, and this past year has been painful to watch. Losing season. Temper tantrums. Family in shambles. Brady has feet of clay (Daniel 2:42). 

I remarked to my husband during half time that Tom Brady's career somewhat parallels the narrative arc of The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and we were seeing what the picture has become. The Cowboys pulled back the drapery over the painting, and what we saw in the light of the glaring field lights was not pretty. Tom had an amazing career, but it's time to confront both his own age and aging out of a young man's game. Too bad he seems to have traded too much of what true riches life holds for fleeting, temporal success. 

Have a good day,

C