Seaton: Brady With The Ball

[Note: I originally started writing this after the Bucs lost to the Green Bay Packers last Sunday. With tongue planted firmly in cheek and head fully up my ass, I neglected to even consider the potential damage Hurricane Ian could do to the area.

I hope everyone reading this from Tampa is safe and sound during this tumultuous weather event. Please forgive your humble humorist as he gives a quarterback on his retirement tour one good kicking today—CLS]

The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Buccaneers that day;
Packers up 14-3 with a quarter left to play
And then when Julio missed his mark and Evans did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair, the rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought “If we get possession and Tom Brady gets the ball—
We’d put up even money now we’re sure to win it all.

But Rogers preceded Brady, as did ol’ Lazard
And the former was a grumpy ass, the latter a man quite hard
So upon that stricken multitude, melancholy held for all
For their seemed but little chance to get Brady the ball.

But Rogers threw an incomplete to the wonderment of all.
And Lazard failed to run his route, striking fans there with awe
And when the dust had lifted, there rose a rousing shout
Drive’s over for Rogers, the Pack’s now three and out.

Then from ten thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It rocked the stadium so loudly speakers fell right off the wall
For Brady, great Tom Brady, had possession of the ball.

Ease in Brady’s manner shone as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Brady’s bearing and a smile upon his face.
And when responding to the cheers he threw a tablet against a wall
For now mighty Tom Brady had his hands upon the ball.

All eyes were upon Brady as he straightened out his shirt
And multitudes applauded when the QB touched the turf
Then when his coach relayed the play Brady readied for the snap
Brady, forever winning, swore he wouldn’t play like crap.

He flung the pigskin covered ball; it hurtled through the air
And in the pocket Brady stood in haughty grandeur there.
Alas the Packers D was strong that day, the pass was incomplete
“I got this” Mighty Brady spoke and no one made a peep.

From the benches, full of people, went up a muffled roar
Like the beating of pirate drums on some stern and distant shore;
“What the fuck ref, are you blind?” shouted someone from the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Brady raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Brady’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; the game had to go on;
He called the next play and again the ball it flew
And yet again no targets found. The ref, he called Down Two.

“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered “Fraud!”
But one scornful look from Brady and the audience was awed.
They saw his face go stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain
And the Bucs faithful knew first down was here again.

The sneer is gone from Brady’s lip, he’s giving it his all;
He pounds with cruel violence his hands upon the ball
The ball is snapped to Brady, now Brady lets it go.
And now the air is shattered with the force of Brady’s throw.

Oh somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout
But there is no joy in Tampa Bay—
Tom’s a bum, all tuckered out.