There was no doubt about it—"Brady vs. Lance" had become the hottest topic in the league. Mention it, and the internet would erupt.
Since Peyton Manning's retirement, the NFL landscape had shifted.
On one hand, speculation about Brady's own retirement surfaced regularly—"The old general, can he still fight?" kind of talk popped up all the time.
On the other hand, people wondered if anyone could become Brady's next great rival, someone to reignite the passion of fans who weren't die-hard football watchers.
That's exactly why Lance's meteoric rise exploded into the conversation.
He'd leapt out of nowhere, like pulling the sword from the stone, challenging the throne. Meanwhile, the reigning king fought tooth and nail to defend his crown. Their bloody clashes hinted at the possible end of an era.
Just imagining it got the blood pumping.
But—truthfully?
At this point, the rivalry between Brady and Lance lacked substance. It wasn't a legendary grudge match yet. Not even close to the level of a conference-defining rivalry.
A real rivalry should be like Batman and Joker, Superman and Lex Luthor—closely matched, with a history of back-and-forth battles and fateful entanglement.
First, the games need to be thrilling, with sparks flying from the clash.
Second, the outcome should be uncertain, always in question.
Like Federer vs. Nadal vs. Djokovic in tennis—epic matchups, no guaranteed wins, each battle forging them into greater athletes.
"Manning vs. Brady" had that kind of magic. Every meeting was a toss-up.
But Brady vs. Lance?
Still lacking.
They'd only met twice. The sample size was too small.
And Lance had won both.
What kind of rivalry was that?
If it continued like this, the storyline would just become a generational handoff—youth overtaking age. As Lance aged into a seasoned veteran, the novelty would fade, and the narrative would lose value.
That's why the media had jumped at Donald and the Rams rising to prominence. A more evenly matched clash, where suspense endured even beyond rookie hype. Even with the Chiefs facing the Patriots soon, the media frenzy briefly tilted toward L.A.
Still, the spotlight remained fixed. After a brief detour, attention boomeranged back to Lance vs. Brady.
Because—this was still Tom Brady.
Perhaps two straight losses would finally spark Brady's fighting spirit. Maybe he'd truly begin to view Lance as a worthy adversary—
If Lance wasn't the Joker, maybe he was the Penguin?
Once again: "The old general, can he still fight?"
How much fuel did Brady have left in the tank?
And not just Brady himself—on the team level, too:
For the Patriots, the Chiefs were rapidly becoming the biggest threat outside their division.
Why?
Last year's divisional playoff.
The Chiefs snatched a miracle win with a Hail Mary, and the fallout shook the Patriots to their core. What followed was one of the most chaotic offseasons in recent New England history.
Offseasons are always a time for reshuffling, yes—but this time, the Patriots were the center of the NFL storm.
Not even massive contracts for Cousins, Smith, or Rodgers could overshadow it.
Receiver Amendola left for the Dolphins.
Corner Butler signed with the Titans.
Even tight end Gronkowski expressed doubt about the team's future.
But roster turnover wasn't the real issue—not in New England. "Steel Belichick and flowing role players" had always been the system.
The real chaos came from the coaching staff.
Even before the Super Bowl, defensive coordinator Matt Patricia had already accepted a new job—
As head coach of the Detroit Lions.
Patricia had proven his defensive chops in New England. Now he was ready for the next challenge.
Big loss? Definitely.
But it wasn't the biggest one.
Offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels was leaving too.
Not only did this mean Belichick's right-hand men were gone—it shook the very foundation of New England's long-term plans.
McDaniels was a Belichick disciple. He joined the Patriots in 2001 as an assistant—before the dynasty had even begun.
Belichick saw potential in him and mentored him closely. McDaniels worked across offense and defense, gaining holistic experience.
In 2009, the Broncos hired him as head coach. But his inexperience showed—poor game management, shaky leadership. After two tough seasons, he was fired.
A stint with the Rams as OC followed, but it went poorly again. One year and out.
He returned to New England, starting from scratch, and steadily rebuilt.
Belichick, now in his mid-sixties, was nearing retirement. The Patriots were preparing succession plans.
His two sons worked on the coaching staff, but lacked the chops.
Everyone—fans included—saw McDaniels as the heir.
Then—
He got poached.
The Patriots' world imploded.
Absolute chaos.
Outrage and accusations poured in. McDaniels went from trusted leader to public enemy number one, and the offseason spiraled further. Not even the draft could save it.
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Powerstones?
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