With 20 seconds remaining in Super Bowl XLIX, an undrafted rookie cornerback from the University of West Alabama stepped in front of an undrafted wide receiver from Fort Valley State University and caught a football that was not intended for him.
Roughly 40 yards away
stood Tom Brady, who, like the rest of the world, was fixated on what
had just transpired between two players few people watching the game had
ever heard of before. Though Brady was one of the 114 million
spectators watching the Super Bowl at that point in time, he had far
more on the line than those of us sitting in our living rooms.
The
ironic thing is that in that particular moment, Brady had as much of an
impact on whether or not Malcolm Butler caught that football as those
of us watching at home, but the fact that Butler did indeed catch that
football will have a lasting impact on how we ultimately define Brady’s
career.
With that
interception, Brady captured his fourth Super Bowl title and further
established his case as the “best quarterback ever.”
Without
that interception, it’s entirely possible (even probable) that the
Seahawks score the game-winning touchdown and Brady loses his third
Super Bowl in six attempts. Hardly a ratio to scoff at, but instead of
talking about Brady as the best quarterback ever, we’re talking about
how he hasn’t won a Super Bowl in over a decade and how he was outdone
by Eli Manning and Russell Wilson the past three times he reached the
big game.
I’ve written about
our need to define a player’s career in black and white and ignore the
gray areas as it relates to Peyton Manning, and it’s no different for
Brady.
We try to take what
just happened and ‘make sense of it,’ or ‘put it into historical
context,’ when doing so is often a fool’s errand. Given how many outside
factors contribute to whether or not a team wins a game (not to mention
differences between eras in the NFL), it can be borderline
irresponsible to draw conclusions about players and their careers based
simply on the outcome of one game. But, if we want to actually have a
conversation about these things, it’s the easiest and often only way we
can.
Is Tom Brady any less of a
quarterback if Seattle ends up gaining one more yard? Does anything that
happened while he was sitting on the bench during those final two
minutes reflect on his ability to throw a football or lead an offense?
Of course not. And yet, his fourth Super Bowl victory, which was sealed
by Malcolm Butler, further validates Brady and his career.
The maddening truth of it all is that football legacies, like life itself, are not a simple thing to quantify.
The
successes and failures we encounter in our lives are also dependent
upon outside factors to a certain degree. Running into the right person
at the right time may be the difference between an incredible career
opportunity that takes you half way around the world or continuing to
live your life as you had for the last six years.
Just
as Tom Brady did in Super Bowl XLIX, we all play a big role in the
successes and failures of our own lives, but just as we saw an unknown
cornerback make the deciding play that won the game, it can be an
unlikely encounter, seemingly lucky event, or a chance you decided to
take that ultimately tips the scale one way or another.
At
some point we should probably accept that these things are a bit more
complicated, and prone to chance, than we might be comfortable with
admitting. We might feel a lot better about things if we did.
Extending
Tom Brady’s experience to our own lives, perhaps we should all be
striving to simply get to our own personal Super Bowl (whatever that
might be) and have our theoretical team winning with two minutes to
play. At which point, we’ve put ourselves in the position for a Malcolm
Butler to come along and give us that last little push towards
greatness. The more I think about it, trying to do anything contrary
borders on insanity.
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