BOSTON (WBZ-AM) -- As we wait for the Patriots quarterback to speak, listen to WBZ NewsRadio 1030's Carl Stevens' poem about Tom Brady's hand injury.
My dad is worried and so is mom.
Something’s wrong with the hand of Tom.
Children pause in their childish mirth,
A woman stops during childbirth,
The sun delays its steady fall,
Everyone stops and ponders it all:
Will he be able to throw the ball?
The hand of Picasso, I’m sure, was fine,
Michaelangelo’s fingers, I suppose were sublime…
But they’re in the shadows, their hands are shady,
Compared to the phalanges of the flawless Tom Brady.
What if the worst of the worst were to sadly occur,
And the cats of misfortune all began to purr?
Oh curses to clouds, to stars and the moon
If he doesn’t suit up on Sunday afternoon.
What dread wind blows through the unfortunate place
What demon would flaunt his evil face
Should the great TB12 not play in the game?
The universe would be unhinged, untamed.
Perhaps it’s nothing...we’ve seen this before.
We always worry til he strides through the door,
With his eyes determined, his hand full of rings,
That’s when patriot nation begins to sing…
But right now, the singing is kind of on hold,
The origami is unclear...would someone please fold?
Could someone please help us onto sanity’s bike?
When will Tom Brady take to the mic
And say the reassuring words we all want to hear,
Put to bed the monsters of all of our fears.
And after our monsters he can later tame
A cage full of Jaguars in Sunday’s game.
But until then my dad’s worried, and so is mom.
They’re both concerned about the hand of Tom.
WBZ NewsRadio 1030's Carl Stevens reports