Overdue Goodbye/ Enthusiastic Hello

Tom Brady drops back to pass. It’s third and seven and a must make down. If the Pats can score before halftime they can change the momentum and maybe the outcome of the game. Around the end of the line a man in red suddenly appears arms flailing and spit flying. Just before Brady can make the throw, he’s tackled. Not a bone crushing tackle, it wouldn’t even make the top fifty on Sportscenter, but it was a game changing tackle. Goosebumps spread up and down my arms and I have a feeling I haven’t felt in almost six years. The man making the tackle wears a different number, but there was something uncanny in how much he looked like number 58. Not in physique, or size, or even color, but there was something about him. As I watched the rest of the game I thought about how much I missed 58. Some people had a difficult time understanding how the death of Derrick Thomas affected me. I watched him every Sunday for years. I lived and died with him a hundred times. Hell yeah it hurt when he died. It would have been different if he had been sixty, or seventy or even fifty. He was thirty-three. I’m almost thirty-three. He was taken too young. Now, there’s another man flying around the end of the line. He gets sacks in bunches. He can change the flow of a game. I’m going to watch him every Sunday. I’m going to live and die with him a hundred times. Jared Allen’s good. Jared Allen will beat you down. Yeah, I’m going to watch number 69. I’m going to appreciate him while I have him. And seeing the ghost of 58 every once and awhile ain’t bad either.