In case the casual Los Angeles sports fan (or sports fan, as they call themselves in Los Angeles) wasn’t aware, Tom Brady and the New England Patriots are in the Super Bowl.
They’ll be facing off against the Los Angeles Rams, who have “won” themselves a Super Bowl berth by virtue of the single-most shameful missed penalty call in the history of sports. However, it seems that folks in Los Angeles can’t be bothered with this information.
When you give the vicious fans of Los Angeles a wunderkind coach like Sean McVay and have them make a meteoric run to the Super Bowl, you would expect the city to be so excited that they’d let a stampede of literal fucking Rams run wild in the streets. But Los Angeles is far too apathetic (cowardly?) to do that.
Los Angelenos should have a reason to care about the Super Bowl. I think that LA should care about the Super Bowl because they should want to support a man who lives his life with the same healthful and wholesome values upon which Los Angeles was built. They should be rooting for the Granola Of All Time: Tom Brady.
It makes too much sense. Gisele Bundchen’s husband is a California-native, and judging by the TB12 Method’s endorsement of uninhibited consumption of water, it’s clear that Brady is man after LA’s own heart.
Brady is too health-conscious to ever step foot inside that carb-cave you call a Whole Foods. He’s a man who has a personal trainer, and refuses to shut up about it to his coworkers. He’s the kind of man that isn’t afraid to try experimental and trendy parenting techniques, like making his sons kiss him on the lips. Gisele is the breadwinner in the family, which would make Tom the trophy husband, and if there is anywhere on Planet Earth that embraces trophy husbands, Amal Clooney’s husband would have to say that Los Angeles is that place.
The people of Boston would love to claim Brady as their own, but they typically do so over a steaming pile of Dunkin Donuts and menthols. They feed off of Brady’s competitive drive, but they forget that that sort of energy doesn’t come from bottles of Sam Adams Boston Lager; it comes from only allowing your temple of a body to consume six strawberries and fifteen gallons of water per day. Boston wants so badly to claim Brady as a symbol of the New England spirit, but they know, in their heart of hearts, that they just can’t. But Los Angeles can.
If Los Angeles can finally realize that Brentwood’s hot yoga-loving, progressive child-rearing health nut is their prodigal son, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll have something to get excited about on Super Bowl Sunday.