Sports News Without Access, Favor, Or Discretion

If You’re Defending Tom Brady’s Cheap Martyr Routine, You’re Fucking Pathetic

Photo: Al Bello (Getty)

The scene is good. In case you missed it, have a gander below at the now-infamous scene from the new Paul Rudd show Living With Myself where Tom Brady strolls out of a massage parlor:

That’s a genuinely amusing scene. Brady can’t act for shit, but it’s not like the script requires him to do any heavy lifting. The joke is him being there in the first place. Writer Timothy Greenberg, a Jets fan, says he wrote the scene years ago. Within the context of the show’s plot, the scene is a jab at Brady winning titles by undergoing Performance Enhancing Cloning. He’s a fucking cheat. The fact that the scene aired AFTER Bob Kraft got busted for getting milked at a real-life massage parlor only makes it more amusing.

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In a normal world, everyone involved in making this scene, Brady included, would acknowledge these winks, both the deliberate one and the one that’s perhaps serendipitous. But we currently live in the Freakshow Cinematic Universe, and Tom Brady is about as normal as a second dick growing out of your forehead. Hence, when someone had the GALL to ask Brady if that scene was meant to be a nod to Kraft’s arrest, he toggled into default Organic Android setting:

“I think it’s this type of media atmosphere that you create. The blame-and-shame media atmosphere that has kind of percolated for a while. I think there is a lot of things that are said that are taken out of context that you choose to make a headline of, as opposed to understand what it’s actually about.”

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Brady also complained about the scene being taken out of context, but how could it NOT be? What sane person isn’t gonna watch that scene and think about the Kraft scandal, even if it was penned before the fact? Brady easily could have corrected the press quickly and with little melodrama. He didn’t do that, because he’s a fucking baby. Instead, he turned into the Sheriff of Ethics and quickly portrayed anyone who instinctively read more into that scene than he intended, as an enemy of the state.

This is SOP for Brady and various other NFL luminaries. To question them, however politely you do so, is to attack them. Even if we’re talking about a cameo on a fucking TV show. Bitching about the media and affixing “blame-and-shame” to them like you’re Newt Gingrich is an easy way of taking what reporters do out of context, rather than the other way around. All they were asking was if the gag was intentional, because it looked that way. They were doing their jobs. We just wanna know if you were having a laugh about the handjob, man. You should! It’s funny that your boss got caught with his dick in the cookie jar. If KRAFT had any sense of humor, he’d laugh at that scene, too!

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But these are men for whom humor at their expense—any use of jokes, jabs, burns, and roasts without Robert Kraft’s expressed written consent—is prohibited. And so they blow the coverage of themselves out of proportion to the degree that it blots out the actions of theirs that merited that coverage get blotted out. Brady also threw a Mister Kraft in there just to give his owner one bonus tug.

And that’s not the shitty part. I’m so used to the Patriots living in the dead zone that I’m genuinely shocked when they dare to put one foot outside of it, as Brady kinda did in that scene before retroactively sucking the fun right out of it. The shitty part is how many fans IMMEDIATELY rushed to lick Brady’s boots and joined in on condemning anyone who dared to make the biggest names in the NFL uncomfortable for a whopping two minutes.

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At this point, Pats fans are their own bot farm. It’s pathetic. And while I have taken a dump on them many times over, I have to be fair and note that they’re hardly the only fans out there who think that practicing the mildest of journalisms is a Federal offense and an attempt to stain their championship glory. It angers them as pretend owners. For another example, take a look at the Astros’ pathetic statement after one of their suits openly boasted to female sportswriters about having an alleged domestic abuser on his team:

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Did a small contingent of ‘Stros fans immediately rush to shoot the messenger? Why yes. Of course they did. Powerful people can bitch about social media endlessly, and they do, but they also know they’ll always have an EXTREMELY vocal bloc on those same platforms ready to defend them no matter how tactless and whiny they themselves get. That bloc gives Brady and the like all the freedom they need to go Full Diaper anytime they’re unhappy. It’s a contagious brand of arrogant defensiveness: a self-feeding cycle that was conceived by some of our worst politicians and business executives that has now taken root among powerful sports figures and filtered down to the shitbag fanboys who seemingly only exist to live vicariously through them.

Again, Brady’s teapot tempest swooped down from a single scene on a Netflix show, one that may not have even been intended as a deliberate allusion to Bob Kraft painting the walls of Orchid of Asia with his frogwad. All Brady had to do was say, “No it wasn’t a gag about that, but it’d be kinda funny if it had been.” But it was vital that he go full toadie instead.

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It won’t make anyone forget what happened. Robert Kraft got busted and hired every lawyer under the sun to get the charges dropped and to suppress video of him getting his balls emptied. Billionaires can afford to defend themselves like this, and that’s their right. But that still wasn’t enough for Kraft. He, and Brady, would prefer that swatch of history be erased entirely, and anyone who fails to aid them in that effort has an agenda and is out of line.

Tom Brady is the undisputed greatest quarterback in NFL history. He’s worth millions. He’s married to a millionaire supermodel. He defies aging via stem cell smoothies. He will probably break the Super Bowl title record this year. He doesn’t even have to play actual NFL teams during the regular season, nor even in the divisional round. His life is unblemished. He can fucking afford to be the butt of the joke once every lunar cycle. Same with his boss.

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So it’s discouraging—and I mean it; I’d prefer the reigning GOAT to have some modicum of self-awareness, no matter what team he plays for—to see him treat a question about a joke as the bellwether of civilization’s downfall. There’s no need for Brady to ever adjust this game plan. He already knows O’Murph From Natick will have his back. That’s what’s extra depressing. You Pats fans think Tom Brady gives a shit about any of you? When he retires at age 76, he’s on the first flight back to California the second his cleats are hung. His job is to win you games and that’s it. He does it better than anyone else, and I’d be grateful for that too if I were you. But what you don’t have to do is act as a human shield, lashing out at everyone who doesn’t kiss Brady’s six rings, because you think that interrupting his day living in the clouds is apparently just too mean of a thing to do.

Brady’s case is exacerbated by the fact that he got genuinely fucked over by the NFL for deflating footballs. That gave him, the Pats, and their fanbase permission to treat EVERY criticism as a baseless witch hunt. It has also rendered them physiologically incapable of ever shrugging off any perceived slight. And it’s fucking ANNOYING. I know I said other fans were bad too up above, but that was just lip service. Pats fans are still the fucking worst and always will be. They’re a big hole filled with shit.

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I have no deeper insights to add here. All of these people have nurtured their own insufferability to the point where they’re barely human. They’re fucking mutants, Brady included, and they all live to protect only the worst, most spoiled people on Earth. I wish them nothing but ill fortune. All of you DESERVE a witch hunt. Now burn.

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About the author

Drew Magary

Drew Magary is a Deadspin columnist and columnist for GEN magazine. You can buy Drew's second novel, The Hike, through here.