Whenever we have a chance to opine about metaphor, count us in.
Tom Brady posted a tunnel of himself, in civilian clothes, in a black and silver tunnel in an unknown park runway.
His wife is a model, but Brady is not.
He is house-hunting and taking his son around to check out schools in Nashville, Tennessee, today. That is hardly where he will retire. That is hardly where his wife wants to be, and his son loves hockey. We know that Tom talked to coaches in New England about hockey, of which he was ignorant, but doing a crash course to keep up with his son.
There is not much hockey in Vegas.
Retirement communities in Nashville and Vegas are popular, but Brady wants to play a few more seasons.
Ah, metaphor! No metaphor is perfect. But they are powerful tools to understand the world.
No one has mentioned Kobe and Tom. Has the death of a superstar ball player had an impact on his thinking? Yes, but not to the point of leaving the game apparently. He simply will go to a team where he can spend more time with his family—not training callow youth in how to play.
It is not the tunnel of death, nor the tunnel of love, where you are surrounded by those you know—especially at the end where you are at heaven’s gate. No, there is no welcome committee here, no wagon of goodies for his delectation.
Tom is a man who owes no one and will consult no one. This is his life alone.