The outlook seemed a good one for the Patriots that day;
Home opener against the Chiefs? Now there's a game to play.
The Vegas spread was 15-plus; a victory seemed sure,
As did the chances that New England's power would endure.
The memories of eighteen-one seemed continents away
As all our heroes took the field and settled in to play,
And none shone brighter than the quarterback: our golden boy
Tom Brady, who was sure (we thought) a cakewalk to enjoy.
His status had been shaky as the preseason played out,
But here he was, his easy smile allaying any doubt.
With passes flying thickly and the O-line holding tight
It seemed New England's faithful were to celebrate that night.
An early Welker fumble seemed unpromising, it's true,
But surely Tommy Brady's arm would see us safely through.
Up first: the Moss-Maroney special from the 29,
And then another first-and-ten as Evans hopped the line.
The snap went back; Tom Brady paused, then sent the ball downfield
As Randy Moss went sprinting back -- would KC's defense yield?
But then! From out of nowhere! Brady couldn't even see
As Bernie Pollard broke the line and hurtled for his knee --
The hit was made. A scream rang out. Our quarterback was down;
And suddenly, a silence settled on this eastern town
As Brady hobbled off the field. All eyes were on his back
As every loyal Pats fan grimly reassessed the sack...
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere children laugh, and somewhere happy Chiefs fans sit;
But there is no joy in Boston:
Brady's knee has gone to shit.