The 2011 NFL season has officially begun.
Many skeptics, most of whom have fabulous hair, would claim that the season actually began all the way back on Thursday, but they would be wrong. The season could not possibly have begun last Thursday, because that game did not include the Greek god known to us mere mortals by the name of "Tom Brady."
Such a beautiful, tall, and hairy beast he is, as he made his way to the field down in Miami tonight, oddly not having even a vague memory of when his last haircut was. But he did remember how to throw, and throw he did.
When the dust settled, Brady had accrued just over 1,450 passing yards, three new children and seven confirmed kills, all of which became Patriot's franchise records for men sporting the bangs of Moe from the Three Stooges (if it weren't for his Herculean muscles and adorable dimples, one might confuse him for a raging dork).
Brady had such an easy time amassing yardage that by the end of the third quarter, he was simply doing the tango down the sideline, hand in hand with Welker. The two looked absolutely graceful as they pirouetted down the line, Welker with a rose in his teeth, both cradling the football like a pair of lovely new fathers, just a bit unsure whether their child needed to be fed or spiked.
The Dolphins tried really hard to make it look like a game, even going so far as to score a couple of times, but in the end they were no match for Tom. As the clock wound down in the fourth quarter, Brady still making passes and gaining yards, Miami quarterback Chad Henne tried to appeal to Belichick's human side by paying him a year's salary to put in Brady's backup, whoever that might have been. Belichick responded by eating Henne's wife, an act to which Henne promptly threw himself to his knees and begged for mercy. Belichick is still considering whether or not to grant it.
We will keep you informed.
Next Sunday, the Patriots square off against the San Diego Chargers at home in Foxboro. There is no way to know whether anyone from San Diego will survive the meeting, but we can only hope for the best. Until then, keep those nachos stocked and your salsa buckets topped off; it's football season! Heaven has arrived!
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