Let's Observe the Solemn, 1-Year Anniversary of Tom Brady's Departure from NE with 90 Seconds of Max Kellerman Eating His Stupid Words

Yes, it was one year ago today. March 17, 2020. A date, which will live in infamy. The Day the Earth Stood Still. The worst Irish Christmas ever. When Tom Brady announced his departure at about 8:30 a.m.:

… I was at the keyboard, all my St. Paddy's Day plans already dashed by this curious little bug going around that was going to be over if we just stayed home for 15 days and flattened that curve. I'm not exaggerating when I say I could barely get out a quick reaction blog because my hand was shaking too hard to control the mouse. That is the God's honest truth. 

Immediately after, the world turned into exactly what I said it would be if Brady ever left New England. Despair. Deprivation. Death. Widespread economic ruin. Civil unrest. Natural disasters. It affected everyone. Except Tom Brady. He just kept being himself only in an ugly uniform. He continued to live on a plane of existence the rest of us will never be able to experience until the life that hopefully awaits us after this one. 

His loss has been tough, to say the least. I've tried to work my way through all the Kubler-Ross stages. But like a game level I can never quite reach, I somehow haven't been able to make it all the way to Acceptance. Watching him continue to be the GOAT for someone else was good insofar as it validated all my beliefs, it was still hard watching him bring that joy to a fanbase that wasn't there when he emerged, didn't watch him grow up, didn't suffer with him through the rare (and temporary) times of struggle. It was even harder realizing he never really needed us. 

But there are people for whom this solemn occasion is even sadder. Brady's doubters. Let's hear from one in particular. One of the most vocal and determined. 

Amen, Cliff Kellerman. Amen indeed. Testify, brother.

It takes a big man to admit when he's wrong. Horribly, horribly, embarrassingly wrong. But it takes an even bigger man to further humiliate that man with public scorn, ridicule and howls of derisive laughter. I'm here to BE that man. 

Imagine going through life carrying this burden around with you? That you were the one who refused to accept the sustained greatness of the greatest? Knowing that you made a conscious decision to get out ahead of everyone else and be the first to declare his magnificence at end? And acknowledge that you sat in front of a camera, show after show, day after day, year after year:

… doubling down on your argument while you were proven wrong time and time again? Through not one, not two, not three, but FOUR Super Bowl visits? And three rings? In a league where a second ring will make the Hall of Fame voters unhook the velvet rope and walk you into Canton? 

And yet that's what Max Kellerman has been carrying around with him all this time. Until now. Until he finally unburdened himself and admitted what a fool he's been. I bet it's good for the soul. For sure, it's doing wonders as I work through my grieving process today. 

So thanks to Cliff. And to all of you who took the time to reach out today. Your kindness is as appreciated as it is necessary. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to mixing Guinness with manly tears.