At long last, the most sacred garment in New England — nay, the world — has been restored to its final resting place. Yes, that’s right: Tom Brady’s stolen Super Bowl LI has been recovered, thanks to the hard work of the FBI (who, in my humble opinion, have never completed a more important job in the world).
It was a national tragedy. After the Patriots’ miraculous Super Bowl comeback, which ended in Tom Brady’s fifth Super Bowl ring (and a newly appointed, indisputable title as the GOAT, the MVP quarterback noticed that someone had swiped his jersey from his bag, and while he attempted some jokes about finding the jersey on eBay later to mask his disappointment, his frustration over the lost garment was evident.
But one question remains: after the most exciting Super Bowl game ever played, a fifth ring and a great middle-finger to NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, why was the world so upset about the lost jersey?
Some could argue that it was because the thievery came at a boring time (post-football, pre-baseball, mid-hockey/basketball) and sports columnists needed something different to focus on. Some could argue that it was because anything about Brady is relevant in sports news, even if it’s just a piece of garment. And some could argue that it was because the jersey was estimated to be worth around half a million dollars. But really, most arguments would revolve around the notion that things like games and jerseys and fields matter, to which I ask: do these things actually matter, and more importantly, should they matter?
Let’s start with part one: yes, sports-related objects and places matter, but not all of them matter. For instance, take a look at Fenway Park. As the oldest baseball park in history, positioned in the heart of one of the first American cities, Fenway is more than just a baseball park — it is a thrilling and chilling memorial site for an 86-year long curse, the home of the first sporting event after the Boston Marathon bombings, and the literal heart of an entire state, perhaps of the entire New England region. In this case, yes, this place does matter.
But Gillette Stadium? No one could care less. In fact, if Gillette Stadium moved from the dingy town of Foxborough to another Boston suburb, not one season ticket holder would bat an eye. This place does not mean a thing to fans or players.
So why do jerseys matter? Another sports writer once joked to me that anything worn by a Red Sox player should be considered a holy garment and be treated with the highest respect upon any interaction.
But that’s not necessarily true.
While it’s certainly no surprise that athletes are as much of celebrities as actual celebrities these days, the worth of a jersey should not go up simply because Alex Rodriguez wore it.
The argument that all professional league jerseys, gloves, bats and helmets are priceless is ludicrous.
But I would give up almost anything to be able to touch Curt Schilling’s famous bloody sock from Game 6 of the 2004 American League Championship Series when the Red Sox beat the Yankees.
So what exactly determines the worth of an object? Surely, a more well-known and overall better player’s jersey will be worth more than a rookie’s, but impressive stats don’t draw a crowd — a story does.
Schilling’s bloody sock is one of the best sports stories of all time, and it’s not because Schilling pitched well that night (even though he did). It’s because he pitched with a bloody ankle to get a win for all the Red Sox fans who had grown up thinking that they would never get to see what happened that year. And the emotional worth of that bloody sock will always trump the worth of the more impressive players that have worn a Red Sox jersey (I’m looking at you, David Price).
But Tom Brady’s jersey. What’s the significance of it? Sure, it was a Super Bowl for the ages, and yes, it was the first time a quarterback has ever competed and succeeded at the level that Brady has, but there was no narrative behind the Patriots. Yes, Deflategate was still fresh in the hearts and minds of Bill Belichick, Brady and Patriots fans, and perhaps it provided an extra incentive for a win, but by no means were the Patriots the underdogs or the favorites. If anything, Matt Ryan’s jersey should have been auctioned off for millions of dollars had he defeated Brady in a Super Bowl, because many, many people would love to own a piece of Brady’s failure in tangible form.
But alas, Brady’s stolen jersey was the talk of the town. As a die-hard Patriots fan, I am thrilled by the extra attention put on the team and its star, but as a human being, I just cannot understand why the world was turned upside down so rich boy Tommy could have a nice piece of memorabilia to add to his already ostentatious household refrigerator of self-congratulations.
