Think what you want about the New England Patriots and quarterback Tom Brady, but hate them or love them, when Brady went down in practice on Wednesday afternoon clutching his left knee, the entire world of professional football paused at the news.
Hell, a hush fell over all of New England as word of Brady's injury spread like wildfire - news that reached into every nook and cranny, back alley and seedy bar from Rhode Island to this dingy central Maine burgh within moments of its occurrence.
No? Consider that I was lying on an examination table in a neurology clinic with warm compresses on my lower legs, waiting for my doctor to come in and start jamming needles into my flesh as part of a Nazi-style nerve conduction study, when the Nurse came into to tell me the doctor would be a few minutes longer.
"He said you'd understand" she hissed, "He's following the Brady injury".
I was floored. Both because of the doctor's relentless unprofessional behavior and because he remembered our conversation about Brady from eight months earlier - I quickly arose on my elbows and, swinging my legs off of the table, kicked the compresses in the direction of the nurse.
"What?" I yelled, "What injury? I can't stand your lies, woman!"
She gave me a knowing smile and got me back onto the examination table. "There, there" she said sweetly, as if mocking my disbelief, "The Doctor will be in shortly."
Nurses are always treacherous, they instinctively know your weaknesses before even glancing at your chart, and I'm certain she picked up on my football loyalties and obsessions from my throwback Grogan jersey and Patriots stocking cap, which both probably seemed out of place while wearing cut off jeans in 90 degree weather...
...but she left, and the delay in the doctor's arrival and the warmth of the compresses - mixed with self-medication before the visit - soon had me relaxed into that fuzzy realm of delusion between sleep and wakefulness, where the conscious mind walks on the astral plane and ponders things that are too deep or dangerous otherwise...
...such as, for the first time in many moons Patriots fans have been confronted with the possibility of Brady being sidelined in favor of Ryan Mallett - or, for the first time ever, Tim Tebow.
That got me thinking, and after I chided the Doctor for being tardy, we spoke of it at length while he used an electromyograph to deliver electrical impulses to my leg that made my foot flop around like a fish on the end of a line - and while there are pros and cons for each player, we came to the conclusion that it shouldn't be just one or the other to take the reigns of the Patriots' offense - it should be both.
Yes, imagine if you will that with Bill Belichick running what he terms as a "Game Plan" offense, the offense should be geared to the strengths of each on a game to game basis in contrast to the weaknesses of each week's opposing defense - then use both according to in-game circumstances...
...not as the defense dictates, mind you, but as an aggressive attempt to control the defense with uncertainty and to cause more mismatches - neither could replace Brady, but either could bring enough to a field surrounded by talented athletes to stem the tide and win more than they lost - which isn't a huge consolation for Patriots' fans, but that's what there is.
After the doctor was finished tazing me both inside and out with his torturous device, I limped to his office for my consultation, but we both ended up watching SportsCenter for about a half hour to catch the latest, and we both felt relieved when word broke that Brady's MRI came back negative and that he's being listed day to day.
The doctor smiled easily, as did I - secure in the knowledge that TV wouldn't lie to me...but also knowing that Bill Belichick would, and with him holding secret the truth of the severity of Brady's injury, one can never be truly certain - because Belichick would list someone on life support "Day to Day" just because he could...
So I arose from my chair, somehow accidentally sliding the doctor's car keys into the waste basket beside his desk. He didn't seem to notice, so I just said goodbye and left, feeling vindicated for him making me wait and leaving me to deal with his evil nurse - keeping me waiting just to electrocute me with both external electrodes and a long needle that disappeared into my major leg muscles in alphabetical order...
...and on the walk home from the hospital, between the absurd delusions of the doctor digging through the garbage like a wino, searching desperately for his keys, I felt a certain amount of solace in knowing that Brady was having a "negative" MRI on his knee at the same time that I had the needles jammed into my legs and jolting my muscles into contractions...
...and that we both walked out under our own power.
That's a great article! Do you know if the Doc ever found his keys?
ReplyDeleteYes, unfortunately...lol
ReplyDelete