Always happy to ride the nearest bandwagon, the sportswriters of America are approaching a new low this week by blowing out the dramatic story of how Tom Brady can possibly play in the Super Bowl after the death of his grandmother.
Can you imagine? A 27-year-old man having to deal with the loss of a grandparent? Who among us could deal with that kind of adversity? Given that the woman was 94-years-old and battled a long illness, the news must have been quite a shock.
This is why I don't watch the Olympics, where every single event is preceded by a feature in soft focus about how the athlete triumphed over circumstances as trying as moving to a new town or spraining an ankle. I understand why the overblown Olympics telecast needs this kind of dog and pony show, but the NFL? Can't they just fill time by showing a montage of career-ending injuries set to "Rock You Like A Hurricane"?
And doesn't the inherit drama of professional sport lie in the athlete's superior physical ability? I'm impressed that Tom Brady is such a good quarterback, I could give a shit if he's also dealing with the same stuff the rest of us do every day of our lives.
But alas, what should have been a minor footnote in the coverage of the game is practically leading most sportscasts and was on the front of today's LA Times sports page. And I guarantee you, if Tom Brady throws an interception tomorrow, some yahoo in the announcer's booth will wonder if it wasn't because of his incomprehensible grief. No, Cris Colinsworth, it was just a really shitty pass.
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