Kevin Mazur. Getty Images.I can honestly say—and I’ve said it without fear of contradiction—that I’ve spent more time in my life thinking about, talking about, and writing about the relationship between Tom Brady and Bill Belichick than I do about myself of any relationship. I’ve been married for 30 years. Between me and my kids. My brothers and sisters. I’ve been friends since first grade. How these two grown men felt about each other bothered me less than it bothered the world. Therefore, I have to respond to an overwhelming response every time their emotional attachment is questioned. But to me, as long as they’re winning together, I don’t really care if they’re cuddled up on the couch watching Hallmark holiday movies.
Aside from these two, the relationship that gets the most oxygen is the one between Brady and Alex Guerrero. Because it ended up being a love triangle that pitted Belichick against Brady’s massage therapist, business partner, and fitness shaman.
There was always the worry that Guerrero’s strange, pseudoscientific influence on Brady would ultimately undermine the greatest collaboration in sports since Red Auerbach and Bill Russell. Ultimately, it turned out to be the case. Soon, the flexibility war broke out.
We can argue about who fired the first shot. Depending on which side you’re on, Guerrero reportedly began helping himself to use the Patriots’ facilities entirely like he owned the place. He treated Brady’s teammates as clients, sometimes giving them medical advice that directly contradicted what the training staff (composed of current medical professionals with an annual budget of $2 million) was telling them.
Others will point to Belichick’s overreaction, allegedly banning Guerrero from the Patriots’ entire operation to make room for the quarterback’s room and ending his privileges of riding Kraft One for road games as offensive. Brady. Things reportedly escalated when Belichick openly mocked Rob Gronkowski in practice for the treatment he received at TB12.
Regardless, the flexibility war has begun. Not since the 1890s, when the future King Edward of England mocked his nephew Emperor William’s choice of shoes at the Royal Yacht Club, creating the bad feelings that led to World War I, has an interpersonal conflict resulted in so many Bloodshed.
And now it appears that the company that started the war no longer even exists. According to my old WEEI radio partner:
Although one of my podcast guests refutes this:
But the New York Post apparently confirmed it:
Attempting to click on the store locator on the tb12sports.com page displays “Page Not Found” with the title: “Sorry, this page does not exist.”
The same page also provides links to pages about the Center’s membership and pages designed to provide details about the services.
Boston’s WEEI confirmed Arnold’s report, saying Brady and Guerrero will separate as business partners because, according to sources, “the business side of TB12 was not working for Brady nearly a year ago.”
“TB12 suffered heavy losses,” the source told WEEI.
But don’t worry, loyal customers. According to a reporter from The Patriot, you will soon be able to buy a $40 box of plant-based turmeric and cashew honey protein bars and a $150 TB12 vibrating flexibility ball that looks like it was the first time Obi-Wan used it. A floating robot that teaches Luke how to be human. Wielding a lightsaber.
So even after the “flexibility wars” are over, TB12 Fitness remains the final collateral damage. Funny how this happened. Not only was the brand associated with the most popular athlete in the history of sports in the field, it also ran one of the greatest campaigns in advertising history, one that featured Brady himself well into his 45th year. Amazingly, it bleeds money. But I suspect that by the time he bowed out of Ireland at St. Paddy’s Stadium in 2020, the market for VitalFit sour cherry supplements had dried up.
Good luck to Guerrero as he attempts to branch out on his own. I’m just saying that. In fact, I wish him no luck at all, as he will forever be remembered in Muscle Falls as Buzz Lightyear to our Woody Sheriff. The guy who showed up at his stupid little cardboard fitness center and took away everything that was important to me. I mean, we.
As is the case with almost all wars, no one wins this one.