Like the garment manufacturers who pre-print thousands of AFC Championship t-shirts for both teams before the game starts, I had already drafted my Victory! post to glorify the Patriot’s win. However, their 38-34 loss does not render irrelevant the gist of my premature post: that Tom Brady is a demimortal in possession of otherworldly powers, and Peyton Manning is, comparatively, a boob.
That the Patriots were even playing in the AFC Championship game is a testament to Brady’s prowess, leadership, and chivalry. Yet a precision throwing arm can’t compensate for lousy receivers and a sluggish offensive line. The Colts are a much better team than the Patriots, but Manning is an above-average QB who is so busy filming commercials and endorsing products that he will never catch up to Brady’s stats.
I always imagine football as a simulated war, with each game a battle and each play a tactical maneuver. If we still waged war in the manner of Ancient Greece, the NFL football players would be our lauded soldiers, and Tom Brady our Hector. Mankind has outgrown its appreciation for exacting spear-throwers and valiant charioteers, but we will not fail to be enchanted by a golden boy with a football.
Here were the best picked men
Detached in squads to stand the Trojan charge
And shining Hector, a wall of them bulked together
Spear-by-spear, shield-by-shield, the rims overlapping,
Buckler-to-buckler, helm-to-helm, man-to-man massed tight
And the horsehair crests on glittering helmet horns brushed
As they tossed their heads, the battalions bulked so dense
Shoulder-to-shoulder close, and the spears they shook
In daring hands packed into jagged lines of battle
Single minded fighters facing straight ahead,
Achaeans primed for combat
–The Iliad