Tom Brady was always going to leave on his own terms.
“When I suck, I’ll retire,” Brady said in 2014. But of all his achievements, the timing of Brady’s announcement that he will step away from the game after 22 seasons may be the most remarkable of all. He is not walking away because injuries sapped his greatness or because his play has declined as he approaches 45. Brady is coming off two seasons in Tampa in which he was still one of the best players in the NFL and clinched his seventh Super Bowl in his 10th appearance. He still moves as well as he ever. Remarkably, there is more zip on his fastball now than there was six years ago.
No, he is walking away because, in middle age, there is a life for him beyond football. “I said this a few years ago, it’s what relationships are all about,” Brady said last week on his Let’s Go! podcast. “It’s not always what I want. It’s what we want as a family.” He is walking away because his three children aged quicker than his game; because he wants to build a clothing brand before he starts creaking.
The NFL will not be the same without Brady. He has presided over the top of the sport – a droning, nagging, staple of excellence – for 20 years. He retires as the most successful player to ever grace the league. The early portion of his career cemented his legacy: the overlooked, disrespected kid, drafted 199th overall, who grew to become the biggest sports star in America. He spent the second third of his career chasing – and surpassing – the legends of the game. And the final third chasing himself – seeing how much distance he could put between himself, the legends of the past and the legends to come.
It was a self-dubbed battle of Tom v Time, one man against the concept of aging. By the end, he was lapping the field.
Before he turned 37 in 2014, Brady was already one of the greatest quarterbacks in history. Whether he was the greatest at that point was debatable. There was Brady’s ruthless efficiency; Joe Montana’s perfection; Peyton Manning’s dominance; Dan Marino’s genius. Pick your flavor.
Since then, Brady has added a further six MVP-caliber seasons and four more Super Bowl titles to his resume. He stacked one Hall of Fame career on top of the other. He threw more touchdown passes in his 40s than he did in his 20s. No athlete, in any sport, has ever aged this way.
The records speak for themselves. Brady will retire top of the NFL in:
Wins: 243
Super Bowl titles: 7
Passing touchdowns: 624
Passing yards: 84,520
Starts: 316
Playoff wins: 35
Playoff passing yards: 13,049
Playoff touchdowns: 86
Game-winning drives in the playoffs: 14
Most passing yards in a playoff game: 505
Touchdown passes in the Super Bowl: 21
Passing yards in Super Bowls: 3,039
Super Bowl MVPs: 5
The volume of fans who enjoyed the early story, grew tired of his success, were happy when he failed, accused him of cheating, and grew to grudgingly respect his persistence and excellence: Infinite
On and on the records roll. In all, Brady has appeared in 18% of Super Bowls ever played. There is no longer scope for debate. There is Brady, a stretch of highway, then everyone else. His perception of success has warped the very meaning of ‘winning’ in the NFL: a couple of Super Bowl runs is no longer enough.
Legends are built on stories, and it’s the story that pushes Brady beyond all challengers. He went from an overlooked college quarterback selected as the 199th pick of the 2000 NFL draft to a pillar of arguably the most successful sports dynasty in modern sport. Along with head coach Bill Belichick and team owner Robert Kraft, Brady’s New England Patriots ruled the NFL for 20 years, defying a league in which the salary cap and draft are designed to ensure no team dominates for too long.
And then came the divorce. Brady, Belichick, and Kraft separated. Like so many New Englanders before him, Brady entered middle age eying retirement in Florida. Two seasons in Tampa yielded 24 wins and 88 touchdowns. Another Lombardi Trophy on the mantle – maybe the most personally gratifying, a title all of his own away from Belichick and the Patriots infrastructure.
Brady built his legend despite never being the greatest athlete on the field. A photo of his unimpressive physique (by the standards of a professional athlete, at least) coming out of college became famous, and he didn’t lost speed as he got older because he didn’t have much to lose in the first place. His game was based on uncommon accuracy and decision-making. His own standards were exacting; completing passes wasn’t enough, they had to be completed in the right spot. “The word ‘accurate’ means that if the ball is supposed to be thrown to the receiver’s right number, that is where the ball is thrown,” Belichick told author Michael Holley. “It does not get thrown to his left number.” Belichick demanded perfection, and Brady delivered.
While other quarterbacks could create magic on the fly, relying on their physical gifts to extend plays or launch balls downfield, Brady prided himself on unceasing efficiency. He was monotonous. Hit the back foot, get the ball out. Again and again – 111,137 times all told. By the end, neither lineman nor lawyer could stop him. He knew every defense, and could uncrack any opposing defensive scheme with ease.
Brady played for a decade longer than even his most durable contemporaries, and yet it still feels like he is stepping away a year or two early, that he could comfortably return next year and pilot another team towards a championship. With a year left on his contract with the Bucs, there was the thought that Brady could return for a farewell tour. But to what end? His legacy was set in New England, and confirmed in Tampa. He is the greatest there has ever been – perhaps the greatest there ever will be. He played in four distinctive generations, and conquered them all.
