And it’s why I use football to express something bigger.

Football, for me, is more than a sport. It’s a reflection of life’s bigger truths—loyalty, perseverance, failure, and the rare moments of glory that make the suffering worth it. It’s also one of the few arenas where everyday people like me can invest emotionally in something larger than themselves. I know it’s just a game, but it’s never just a game to real fans.

That’s why the dynamic between players and fans is so powerful—and sometimes, so fragile.

Players come and go. Careers peak and end. Some stay for a few seasons, others for a decade, but eventually, every one of them moves on. Meanwhile, the fan base remains. Fans are the blood flow of a team. We ride the highs and suffer through the lows. We remember the heartbreak of ’13 seconds’ and the magic of the ’90s run not because we were paid to be there, but because we chose to be. Over and over again.

That’s the burden—and the beauty—of fandom.
We have to not only hope for wins and losses, we have to believe in people we don’t even know. We have to trust that a young athlete in his 20s, given fame, pressure, and millions of dollars, will still care as much as we do about a game that defines so much of our identity. That’s a huge ask. And yet, when it happens—when a player really gets it—it creates something sacred.

Tom Brady got it.

Whether you loved him or hated him, there’s no denying that he treated football with reverence. He never made it about anything else. He wasn’t overly public with his personal life, he didn’t blame others, and he never seemed to lose sight of the one thing that mattered most: mastering the game. It often felt like he was more than a player—like he was a fan of the game itself. A servant to it. He aligned with the brand, the team, and the tradition, even when things behind the scenes weren’t perfect. And as a fan, that kind of commitment meant everything.

Compare that to some of today’s younger stars. I still love watching Josh Allen. I admire Mahomes’ talent. But every now and then, you’ll hear things—subtle comments like, “At the end of the day, it’s just a game.”
For fans like me, that stings.

Because no—it’s not just a game. It’s a passion, a connection point, a legacy. It’s Sunday dinners, passed-down jerseys, and watching with our kids, hoping they’ll feel the same magic we did. Football doesn’t have to define your life, but when you love something that much, it does shape it.

I don’t expect every player to feel what I feel. I don’t expect them to devote their lives the way fans do. But I do believe there’s a different level of respect earned by the ones who do. The ones who treat football not just like a job, but like a calling.

Tom Brady didn’t just win more than anyone else. He gave us the feeling that he would’ve bled for it. That he did. And that made us believe it was all worth it.

If more players understood that, they’d realize what kind of legacy they could truly leave behind. One that doesn’t end when the final whistle blows.