You know, Tom Brady was a little like this his first year playing - fresh-faced, open, humble, full of youth and enthusiasm. Then, slowly, inexorably, he was pulled into the downward spiraling orbit of the Evil One, Bellishit, from which there is no escape. As his team's ill-gotten successes mounted, Brady's ego grew like some cancerous weed. Fed by a sycophantic media and bandwagon-jumping fan adulation, Tom Brady was soon out of control and, as we all too sadly know, eventually became the broken, twisted wretch he is today.
I pray to St. Timothy of Russert and all that is good in this universe to watch over and protect our Trent Edwards, that he may remain centered, whole and sane as the Bills rise to their destiny and start winning Super Bowls by the handfuls.