Houston’s finest are in hot pursuit of America’s public enemy number one, the fiend who made off with Tom Brady’s Super Bowl jersey. At this hour, The Jerseynapper remains at large as America cowers, in fear of the next strike. An around-the-clock watch of Navy Seals has been stationed around LeBron’s sweat band.
Take our lives, but by all that is good, please don’t take our Super Bowl outfits...
I can’t help but picture Sheriff Buford T. Justice from “Smokey and the Bandit” slowly rolling down the highway in his wrecked-up squad car with cigarette clenched in his teeth, relentlessly chasing whatever sumbeach would dare such a heinous jersglary.
This crime promises to unravel society as we know it if not disrupt the very space-time continuum! Tom’s shirt needs your prayers tonight. I’m guessing that Elton John is reprising “Candle in the Wind” as we speak. “It seems to me, that you lived your life, like polyester in the win, never knowing how much starch you’d need, when the linebackers came closing in...” Looks like it’s top news in every newspaper from Paris to Beijing, too, including countries where they wouldn’t know a football from a yak egg.
The jersey of the MVP winning quarterback - complete with its golden glowing aura - got pilfered right under the nose of 40 different security agencies working the Super Bowl, the most ever, plus an army of 4,000 private security officers, New England’s own team security, the FBI, and the Department of Homeland Security.
It sounds like a comedy setup for “Mall Cop III,” I know, but this is serious stuff, hoss.
According to the Houston PD, Tom’s missing top is a first degree felony, with the official crime report listing Brady as victim and pegging the loss at half a million bucks. Auction experts say that in the wake of the Super Bowl hype, jersey value is more like $1 million.
This is where you should pause to sob uncontrollably for poor Tom Terrific, who will simply have to soldier on with only the $170 million he has been paid to pay football so far, all those Super Bowl rings, his MVP trophy, $8 million in commercial endorsements per annum, his mansions (sold one the size of Alta to Dr. Dre for $40 mill on order to buy another with a King Arthur moat around it), and his billion-dollar-making heartstoppingly gorgeous supermodel spouse. There, there, Tom, it’s going to be okay. Life can be hard. We’ll all chip in to get you a new shirt. Maybe a nice fleecie.
A million bucks. That’s right, a misplaced jersey is worth more than any of 10 entire islands that are on the real estate market right now, a block of houses in a place like Storm Lake, five new Lamborghini Huracans plus a few bucks left over for cupholders, or meals for 750,000 starving third-world people. Yep, our conceptions of value are not messed up at all.
We’re vaguely aware that our national obsession with jock heroes has gone way past insanity - we had to reach that conclusion when we started paying football coaches in this state more than the governor - but a million dollars for a jersey? Maybe if Jesus had worn it for his tussle with the Temple moneychangers, but short of that, a shirt is a shirt, man.
You can buy yourself the exact same Pats game jersey for $295 from Nike, minus only the grotty sweat, if you happen to have more money than brains. If you do, I wouldn’t want to try re-selling it on eBay just now though, unless you want armored assault vehicles rolling up to your front door while FBI choppers full of snipers circle overhead. They’re putting more effort into the shirt search than the hunt for D.B. Cooper, and throw in Amelia Earhart’s plane, Jimmy Hoffa’s bones and Blackbeard’s treasure for good measure.
I’m not sure if this fascination with famous clothes is carrying over into other fields. Is Ozzy Osbourne’s dirty undershirt worth a million bucks? Are people stealing George Bush’s used socks to stroke them creepily in their living-vicariously memorabilia room?
Houston is sure taking Jerseygate seriously. Never mind that three murders happened in the city while the Super Bowl was going on. The cops have placed their elite Major Offenders bureau on the case and manned a round-the-clock tips hotline, and Crime Stoppers of Houston has offered a $5,000 reward for information leading to a conviction of the jerseyrobbing mastermind. I am not making this up.
Police say they are looking to recreate the crime, establishing a timeline and using video surveillance footage to narrow the list of suspects. I suppose with 70,807 suspects - 70,809 counting Lady Gaga and the stadium laundry boy, that could take a while.
Forget securing the borders, Mr. Trump, secure Tom Brady’s gym bag. Make Tom’s jersey great again!
Everything surrounding the Patriots seems somehow bigger and stranger than life, reality gone just a little amok. Did we really have an actual court trial over air in footballs? Did Texas’ Lt. Governor no less call in the elite Texas Rangers to spend their time chasing a piece of lost clothing? And did team owner Robert Kraft actually compare a football jersey to great works of art like “a great Chagall or Picasso or something?”
It’s a strange world we live in, worshipping leather balls in glass cases and framed pieces of sports equipment that we consider priceless and almost religious relics, while politicians debate cutting school lunches for needy kids, and homeless people sleep on the streets of the same fabulous cities that are chosen to host Super Bowls.
Personally, Tom, I’d have Roger Goodell’s closet searched. I’m just sayin’.