I'm trying to slow my roll. Trying to remember that it's early, nobody's won anything, that we haven't even started the regular season and that regular season is like a marathon where linebackers occasionally leap from the crowd and put you in the concussion protocol.
I know. I get it. I don't care. I'm not even going to try to stop myself.
They haven't even played a single preseason game, we still don't know what's going on at left tackle. Or tight end. The wide receiver position group is a pu pu platter of Julian Edelman and stories yet written of hopes and dreams and redemption. Their starting quarterback and his dad-bod just turned 42-years-old, making him literally old enough to be the father of at least three members of the current roster.
I wouldn't call it luck, really, but when it comes to success in the NFL - as in life itself - it depends; it depends on the things that do happen and it depends on the things that don't.
For every best case scenario, there's a worst case scenario. And several less than best scenarios in between.
The recent workout in Los Angeles, with Tom Brady calling on Mr. Reliable, Robbie G, combined with the various photo ops from the ESPYS, the "what do I write about in July?" conundrum facing pigskin pundits and bobbleheads resulting in numerous will he/won't he pieces about Rob Gronkowski's potential return from retirement have even me wondering…