Tom Brady, that All-American quarterback, that hero of the NFL, that epitome of the New England Patriots, that down-home all-around good guy, just cut his own legs out from under his image.
Today’s Globe sports section carries a story by Christopher L. Gasper about Brady’s contract. Brady has a sixty million dollar contract ($60,000,000 for those of you struggling to pay your mortgage, gas, electric, and medical bills). This year he will be paid about eight million dollars ($8,000,000 for those of you struggling to find a job and those recently thrown out of a job).
And what does good ol’ boy Tom have to say:
“If somebody wants to pay you more money? [Heck], I think we’re all probably underpaid, don’t you think?’’ said Brady. “We all wish we were paid more.”
Well, no, Tom, you aren’t underpaid. You and your football buddies are obscenely overpaid. You play about seven minutes of actual football once a week for sixteen weeks a year, barring playoffs. That’s the actual product you produce. Seven minutes, give or take a bit. A three hour NFL game produces about fifteen minutes of actual football play. Figure half for the defense, half for the offense.
For that, Tommy boy, you get eight million dollars this year. And you think you’re underpaid? Families are living on the street because of what rich people who think you’re hot stuff did to this economy. People are dying from lack of health care because of what rich people are doing to health care reform. And you’re tramping around the world with your obscenely overpaid supermodel wife and blithering about being underpaid for your bullcrap career as an NFL quarterback producing seven minutes of football a week for a few months?
The Lion can’t figure out if you’ve been hit in the head too many times or not enough times.
To quote the profound judgment of wise people: “Jerk!”