Trying To Get Better

So, lately I came across a couple of references to the fact Rob Gronkowski wasn't coming off rehab for the first time in several years. He felt great. It was only shorts and shells but Gronk absolutely dominated mini-camp. Could this be Gronkowski's best year ever – better than his 2011 season of 90 catches, 1,327 yards and 17 touchdowns? (17!) Let's say he had an Elvis Year, 20% better than those career numbers: 108 catches, 1,592 yards and 20 touchdowns. (20!)

Those are crazy numbers but somehow they're not crazy when we're talking about a healthy, 26-year old, Star Lord of tight ends Rob Gronkowski. Remember, even in his slow to get started, 15-game 2014 season Gronkowski put up an 82 catch, 1,124 yards, 12 TD stat line.

He's at the very peak of his inimitable powers.

He's ready to smash and dash.

The Big Gronkowski.

Hope Floats Like A Butterfly

Hope is a funny thing. Funny strange, not funny ha-ha. Or maybe both. Boldly stating that Aaron Dobson can provide a legitimate deep threat as some kind of mojo inducing incantation may have your friends saying, "Really? Do we even need a deep threat? We just won a Super Bowl, you know. Are you drunk right now?" but if you think out loud that Josh Boyce could start in the slot over Danny Amendola and be a YAC machine well that's hilarious.

And, okay, I am a little drunk right now.

Still Waiting for the Outrage

I think comparing the Wells Report to a steaming pile of shit is an insult to actual piles of shit. There are commercial uses for piles of shit, after all.

Perhaps the NFL should sue Ted Wells for the $5m they paid him instead of fining the Patriots and suspending Tom Brady.

Do It For The Kids

I'm sorry I've been even more emotionally distant than usual. Maybe it's the black flies or maybe the apocalyptically high levels of white pine pollen. Maybe it's mortality looming on the horizon. Maybe it's Deflategate Fatigue. Sometimes you forget. Life may be miserable but it's still better than the alternatives. I need put that on a t-shirt. With a picture of Godzilla spitting radioactive fire at a tank.

Rambling Rationalization

Vickie and I had a wonderful dinner last Sunday with long-time friends Steve and Kathy. Delicious food. I broke the two martini rule. It's more of a guideline, really. As they fellow citizens of Patriots Nation, we naturally spent a good amount of time in alcohol-fueled discussions of Deflategate. We all agreed with Steve that saying Roger Goodell's name is like a game of Marco Polo, only instead of "Polo" the correct response is "Fuck that guy."

We can never forgive the man who, for reasons that can only be described as petty, spiteful, self-aggrandizing, venal, vile, villainous, arbitrary, feckless and despicable, did everything in his power to destroy the reputation of Tom Brady.

Fuck that guy.

Wonderland

"…it is still amazing to me that Goodell has presided over a situation that has irreparably damaged the legacy and reputation of one of the greatest quarterbacks and ambassadors in the history of the game, relying on the anything-but-definitive Wells report in doing so, while failing to take any accountability from a league perspective for creating a swirling mess."

-Mike Reiss

I like "swirling mess." It conjures up the image of an overflowing toilet.

Taking No Pigskin Prisoners

Deflategate is already in Bill Belichick's rear view. Tom Brady hasn't missed a workout while dealing with his appeal. It may be true that no one circles the wagons like the Buffalo Bills but it's clear that nobody compartmentalizes off the field distractions like the Patriots.

This is starting to remind me of 2007. I guess the big question is, who's the Randy Moss of 2015?