Tom Brady & The Boston Corbetts

(736 words)

I thought I’d said all I needed to say about DeflateGate in January when I proposed the NFL change the name of the New England Patriots to the Boston Corbetts.

Civil War buffs will recall Boston Corbett is the name of America’s most famous eunuch.

Corbett was the man who killed the man who killed Abraham Lincoln. He said God told him to kill John Wilkes Booth, which he did in a Port Royal, Virginia, tobacco barn 150 years ago April 26.

He’s a fascinating character. Prior to the Civil War, Corbett, a devout Christian, used a pair of rusty shears to sever his own testicles. He undertook this rash act because he was repelled by an all-consuming lust for Boston prostitutes and blamed it all on his balls. 

And that’s as good a place as any to return us to the topic at hand.

Sure, calling a ream the Corbetts would confuse generations of casual football fans, but no worse than those who wonder why even caucasian players from Cleveland are called Browns.

It’s interesting that Brady’s misdeeds are causing far more outrage than what one of his headline-making teammates recently got busted for doing.

I guess it says something about the character of your typical American sports fan that most people care more about Brady artificially deflating footballs than Aaron Hernandez ballistically deflating fellow human beings.

Anyhoo, here’s how I feel about the punishments:

They make me happy. They warm my soul. I think it’s because I can empathize with every single human emotion except arrogance and hypocrisy.

Brady and the Patriots are guilty of both.

I despise the Baltimore Ravens, but I respect them (with the obvious exception of their murderer and his buddy, the wife-beater) because I never suspect the Ravens of resorting to any smarty-pants rules infractions to get an edge.

It’s always been that way with the Patriots.

Understand, Tom Brady should be beloved the way Peyton Manning is. Both are tremendous quarterbacks. But Brady whines when he’s hit. He screams at his receivers when they drop one of his passes. He acts entitled.

He lost me forever in an episode few even recall, but one that seared me with Brady hatred.

It was the 2008 Super Bowl between the Patriots and the underdog New York Giants.

The Patriots were such heavy favorites that there was much ridicule when Giant Plaxico Burress predicted the Giants would win 17-14, people howled, none more loudly than the smirking Brady.

“He thinks we’re only going to score 14 points?” Brady asked. When the prediction was confirmed, Brady descended into the squealing kind of laughter I hear from my 8-year-old daughter when Spencer does something funny on an “iCarly” rerun.

Worse, before kickoff I remember seeing Giant QB Eli Manning approach Brady for a collegial handshake.

Brady slapped his hand away and shouted a profanity at him. It was very unsportsmanlike.

So I was thrilled when Eli led the Giants to a huge upset victory by the score of 17 to, uh, 14.

Of course, DeflateGate would have been a non-starter had Brady resorted to questions with what I call the “Otter Defense,” which works in any situation where a guy gets busted doing something guys like to do.

Eric “Otter” Stratton and the rest of the “Animal House” Deltas were summoned before a Faber College disciplinary board to respond to accusations that certain immoralities involving female guests occurred at their toga party.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he says, “the issue here is not whether we broke a few rules or took a few liberties with our female guests. We did.”

And with this frank admission, he looks directly at Dean Wormer and gives him a lascivious wink. It’s funny because viewers know Stratton’d spent the previous evening boinking Mrs. Wormer.

I don’t mind my miscreants if they show even a little contrition, some humility.

Brady is incapable of either.

So my enmity has nothing to do with the heinousness of the crime, and everything to do with my sanctimonious opinion of whether or not a guy’s a real jerk.

It’s why I’ll forgive Mark McGuire, but not Lance Armstrong or Barry Bonds.

It’s why I was happy actor Oscar-nominated actor Don Cheadle didn’t win the Academy Award for his role in the 2004 movie, “Hotel Rwanda.”

It’s something Brady should think about.

Cheadles never win.

Related . . .

Change Patriots name to Boston Corbett

Boston Corbett: America’s Greatest Eunuch

Inaugural oath goof & right wing crazies

Tom Brady & a gay news extravaganza

Baltimore Rays & NFL’s on-going disgrace

A gay news extravaganza

Recent news events reminded me of my favorite stories I’d seen in National Enquirer, one I wish I’d done, back in the 1990s when those swashbuckling duties consumed my days.

The editors had a strapping fellow reporter get all dolled up in a daisy-covered summer dress, wig, hooker make-up and march into a local U.S. Marine recruiting office to join the corps.

I remember reading how the crimson recruiter sputtered that homosexuals were forbidden from serving and how the straight-faced reporter responded in a commanding baritone. “I’m not homosexual. I just like to dress up like a lady.”

Good enough. They shook hands, presented an application and the next week the Enquirer ran the story under the banner headline: “The Marines are Looking for a Few Good Men . . . But They’ll Take Drag Queens!”

The “Don’t Ask/Don’t Tell” repeal brought to mind that delicious mockery.

It’s been a difficult few weeks for people who don’t like to read news about homosexuals, wish homosexuals didn’t exist and think, gee, if these fellows could all just meet the right gals then homosexuality would just go away.

First there was the repeal of DA/DT. Repeal opponents said it would destroy unit cohesion, doom morale and weaken our military, essentially the same things they said in opposing admitting blacks, women, Irish, etc.

All those arguments have been vanquished over the years. There are people of all nationalities and races who are good at killing and I want the best of them out there killing for me.

Then came news that you’ll now be able to add the title of daddy to Sir Elton John, the flamboyant singer my wife once dubbed the most beloved homosexual on the planet.

She may be correct. Everybody loves Elton. Even family value purist Rush Limbaugh had him sing at his fourth wedding and seemed pleased enough by the performance that he’ll certainly invite him to perform at his fifth and sixth weddings over the next few years.

I’ve loved Elton since I was 10. His “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” was the first album I ever purchased. It still holds up nearly 40 years later. He’s still so engaging and buoyant and is justly regarded for his devotion to humanitarian causes.

But I dispute Val’s contention on what may be a technicality. There may be a prominent politician or theologian who is homosexual and just shy about sharing the news with the rest of us.

They may have ornamental wives, children and a conservative constituency that would be offended by their lifestyle.

Recent examples are U.S. Senator Larry Craig and the Rev. Ted Haggard, men I like to refer to as “slomosexuals.”

Then there’s the example of U.S.S. Enterprise captain Owen Honors, the Navy skipper who got himself tossed overboard for making a video lampooning what throughout history has been a sea-going tradition.

That would be sailors turning homosexual during long ocean voyages.

Many people of the “get-over-it” bent said it was all in good fun, it was no big deal and gays serving under Captain Honors should just lighten up.

Nonsense. We need leaders who ennoble the best of us, not pander to the 10 percent who’ll use a commander’s jokes as a green-light to bully the already oppressed.

There are nearly 5,000 sailors on that vessel. Guaranteed, there are at least 200 men and women as qualified as Honors, as respected and imbued with an innate understanding that the best leaders do not degrade, they exalt.

So many people still seem to think boys and girls in high school decide, just for kicks, to become homosexual. That’s unsound reasoning because cruel kicks are often what they wind up getting.

These people seem to fear homosexuals will somehow try to “turn” them the way Jehovah’s Witnesses do.

Many of them resemble Larry the Cable Guy, not exactly a homosexual pin-up boy. No one’s out to turn him.

The whole “turn” argument has always struck me as absurd.

I try and imagine what would happen if a really handsome and accomplished man we all believe to be homosexual tried to turn me.

Someone like, say, New England Patriot quarterback Tom Brady.

I wouldn’t think of leaving my wife and my heterosexual proclivities to be with him.

Instead, I’d hope Steeler linebacker James Harrison would emerge from Brady’s blindside and hit him so hard every one of the follicles of his Justin Bieber haircut flew off his stung scalp. 

Not because I hate gays or think Brady’s really gay.

I just hate Tom Brady.

And I hope one day maybe all our hatreds and petty putdowns will be confined to childish partisans of rival sports teams in meaningless realms where none who seek enlightened thought ever dare to venture.

Places like here!