Tom Brady Becomes the New Age Hermit


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Smiling, affable, sociable, and good-humored, we always could count on Tom Brady. He posted funny stuff on his Facebook page, but that was then. This is now.

He was social media gone glamorous. That was before Deflategate. Now we have the invisible man of the NFL.

But since Roger Goodell whipped up a deflategated theory in his lab, we have found Tom turned from the piper’s son into something akin to Greta Garbo.

Yes, we never would have believed it possible. Tom Brady has morphed into the reclusive, press-phobic, silent icon of the old silver screen.

Garbo would laugh! Garbo would talk! We were thrilled if it happened. Now, the same could be said for Tom Brady.

Tom has not yet turned into Rajon Rondo, another Boston creature from the lagoon of avoidance and passive aggression. Yet, we feel that the void left when Rondo fled Boston has left a gaping hole in the ozone of recluses.

B. Traven, look out. Tom has found the Treasure of Sierra Madre and is ready to blow that gold dust into the face of Roger Goodell.

Stanley Kubrick was a hermit with a shining. And Tom Brady may shine his light in the maze called the NFL.

J.D. Salinger, up there in the lost wood of New Hampshire, is now gone, but Tom may be ready to assume the mantle, raise the roof beams, and shoot banana fish.

If Tom Brady is ultimately suspended for four games, we may never hear a word from his lips again. He will retreat into the aerie created by Bill Belichick, transformed into a man of monosyllables and dyspeptic distemper.

Oh, the Humanity, again.

Tom Brady has entered the Bermuda Triangle of Fame.