Tom Brady and defining success

It's often as simple as doing your best

Before I shamelessly and fawningly make this Tom Brady goodbye all about me, here’s another obvious, platitudinous recital of Brady’s resume:

Best ever. So best, he might have retired that trophy for good. Seriously. Maybe some other quarterback will win 17 division titles, play in 13 conference title games, take part in 10 Super Bowls and win seven of them.

Maybe the Next Tom Brady will win Supers in three separate decades, the way the original Tom Brady did. That guy will be NFL MVP at age 40 and Super Bowl MVP three years after that. Maybe that guy will do all that and more after being selected in the 6th round of the draft, as the 199th pick and 7th QB.

I kinda doubt it.

How many athletes, ever, in any sport, are truly the unrivaled Greatest? What other pro jock is so clearly the best at what he does, even the bar stool has no comeback?

For every Mays, there was a DiMaggio. Or Aaron or Bonds or Ruth or. . . you get the picture.

For every Woods, a Nicklaus.

Jordan? LeBron’s in that photo. Albeit in the 2nd row, on the end.

Ali? Louis.

Gretzky? Howe.

All these guys can lay claim to GOAT-ness. But you’ll get an argument on each. With Brady, there is no argument. Joe Montana, Brady’s idol growing up? Four rings. Terry Bradshaw? As fortunate as he was great, to have played with such a constellation of starry teammates.

There is a bigger winner (Bill Russell, 11 NBA titles, thank you veddy much). There were better pure passers (Aaron Rodgers, for one). None had Brady’s supernatural cool. None ever rallied his team from 3-28 down in the 2nd half of a Super Bowl. None had Brady’s numbers.

There have been other supernovas, in other sports, who have been better known around the world. Jordan, Tiger, Ali, Pele. Perhaps even Roger Federer and Serena Williams.

But again, none of those people can claim inarguable GOAT-ness.

Best ever. For. . . ever.

Now, then. . .

WE WANTED JILLIAN TO FAIL. Kerry and I wanted our daughter to fail, because we believed her road to success would be defined by how she overcame obstacles. As a child born with Down syndrome, she’d have her share of obstacles.

It’s not what happens to us that matters. It’s what we do about it.

On his podcast, Tom Brady said this recently:

"I don't want it to go right for my kids all the time. I told them that this morning. I said, 'I want you guys to fail because I want to see what you're made of if you fail and when you fail’.’’

We wanted Jillian to fail. In fact, we put her in situations where we knew she would. She attended four years of college, in a pilot program at NKU. We did spend some time with her on campus, acquainting Jillian with classroom buildings, the student union etc. As best we could, we prepared her for her adventure.

And then we let her live it.

To get from class to class, to find the places to buy supplies and eat lunch, Jillian occasionally had to ask others for directions. You can’t get found until you’ve been lost. Jillian’s goal of independence demanded she learn to get along in the larger world. To cope.

It’s no coincidence that today, Jillian takes four Metro/TANK buses a day to and from her job, or that she knows how to call an Uber when a bus doesn’t show. She has been married for seven years to the estimable Ryan Mavriplis. They live entirely independently. They even have a dog. This isn’t happenstance.

Tom Brady also said this, on the podcast:

"In the end, what do I always tell my kids? 'All you can do is the best you can do.' Just do the best you can do, I don't care whether you win or lose, just do your best, and you'll be proud of it.’’

All you can do is all you can do. Kerry and I used that as a mantra of sorts in raising Jillian. Across the years of battling the schools to get her educated and battling the world to “See’’ Jillian, not “Look’’ at her — and there is a life’s worth of difference — we leaned on that wall of reassuring truth.

All you can do is all you can do.

We repeated it over and over to Jillian, as she navigated classrooms and dance team tryouts. Nothing is better than your best. If you give that, you’ve succeeded in not selling yourself short.

“There is a real crash landing element to all of this,’’ Brady said after his final game, a playoff loss last month. He was talking about the sudden finality of a season ending. He could just as easily have applied it to the now-what? phase of life he’s entering today.

Sure, his landing will be softer than most. He’ll likely be in a TV booth next fall. He has his fitness/lifestyle companies. He has his children. But there’s a decent chance he’ll never again know what it’s like to be on top of the world. The only downside to being a GOAT is, sequels are hard to come by.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Brady. They’ll outlast all of us.

TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . I’m thinking I posted this one fairly recently. Sorry. It’s a Deserted Island Tune for me, exceptionally personal. Guy Clark, a vastly underrated folkie, wrote and performed the original. This is Patty Griffin’s take, and IMO, it’s better.

The Cape speaks to anyone who dreams and in dreaming, truly lives.

“(She) did not know she could not fly. And so, she did.’’