i don’t want a fiddle of gold

So as I watching the New England Patriots back into the Super Bowl this past weekend—and the diehard Pats fans I was watching the game with weren’t apologizing for the win, but certainly didn’t feel “great” about the way it went down, courtesy of a Ravens choke job that would put Albert DeSalvo to shame—I couldn’t help but think to myself:

When exactly will the Devil arrive to collect the soul of one Tom Brady?

And yes, I completely acknowledge that I am as green as a Joe Willie Namath’s #12 jersey with envy.

Seriously though, if it somehow came to light that quarterback Tom Brady—a lowly sixth-round draft pick who mysteriously has bloomed into a three-time Super Bowl champ (so far), two-time NFL MVP, seven-time Pro Bowler, future first-ballot NFL Hall-of-Famer, “Saturday Night Live” host and husband to a supermodel who brings in a mere $45 million a year—had traded his eternal soul in a Faustian deal, would anyone bat an eyelash?

Of course not. I also think that there are a few people out there who would make the same deal. Heck, who am I kidding? There are millions of people who’d tear their own souls out of their beating hearts (if that’s where it’s kept) and hand it to The Adversary on the spot for that kind of life.

Surprisingly, I may not be one of them. Other than not believing in God—and by extension, Satan—there are other reasons why I wouldn’t sign on for that particular deal, even if it was to quarterback the New York Jets. (Although Joe Willie Namath may have already claimed that offer.) First off, the biggest reason might be having to deal with prickle puss Bill “The Hooded Claw” Belichick on a daily basis. I’ve got to think that somewhere there are rusty catheters more pleasant with which to interact.

Then there’s the whole “glory” of playing quarterback in the NFL. Sure, it’s sweet when you’re tossing that game-winning touchdown and your teammates are carrying off the field, but what about when the trainers are carrying you off the field with a leg shattered into more pieces than Rick Perry’s political dreams. Don’t forget about the twenty or thirty times a game that an angry, HGH-fueled 327-lb. man crashes into you at full speed for the express purpose of violently knocking you to the ground, if you’re lucky, or into unconsciousness, if you’re not.

And then there’s the adoration and attention of millions, which includes the paparazzi constantly following you to capture moments like this:

I don’t care how many NFL MVP trophies and super model trophy wives you have, that’s just a “oops-you-caught-me-shrieking-like-a-little-girlie-except-most-little-girls-are-cooler-than-this” moment that no one wants immortalized for internet posterity.

Of course, that’s not to say that there aren’t some things I wouldn’t consider trading my soul for, you know, if Beelzebub existed.

For example …

Fame and fortune – I already have a blog—how much more famous can you get? And Google ads told me I’ll get rich as soon as I can get a few million visits a week, which right now … well, I’m only a few million away from. No problem.

Everlasting health or eternal youth – Staying healthy forever sounds good for some, but unless you can stop the aging process, I’m not sure I want to be trying to get around in the body of the healthiest 200-year-old. As for eternal youth—I’m still 12 in my mind right now, so it’s not really necessary.

A Super Bowl championship for the Jets – No, I wouldn’t want a tainted championship. I believe that it can happen even without divine intervention. In Rex I trust. (No, really. Hypothetically it could happen …. really … I …. Dang!)

Discovering Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster or what made The Bloop – Of course, it’d be awesome to be forever known as the person who got to the bottom of one or more of these famous “mysteries,” but if none of them actually exist (as I tend to suspect), will I want to be known as the latest guy who traded his soul for nothing (you know, like Milli)?

Visiting alien worlds – If it’s another planet in the universe like Earth but completely populated with more sentient and attractive beings (like a bunch of Danica McKeller clones), then great. If it’s a world teeming with brain-eating, acid-spitting creatures that immediately tear your face off to implant their eggs in your brain, a la Alien, then, to paraphrase the knight in Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, “You have chosen . . . poorly.”

The wisdom of the Ages – Already got it, thanks.

Time travel – Although it would be cool to see many things first-hand, say like Abraham Lincoln giving his Gettysburg address or when zombie Jesus rose from the grave in search of the braaaiiiinnns of the faithful (it’s in the back of the Gospel of John, I think), I keep in mind that decent personal hygiene (including things like the daily use of deodorant and soap) is a later 20th-century occurrence. And then there’s always the twist that happens in all these deals with The Dark Lord, and he leaves me in the Land of the Lost where the sleestaks make me their brood queen. No thanks.

Rock ‘n roll – Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Robert Johnson, Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse and all the other members of the 27 Club, not to mention the likes of Elvis, Buddy Holly, Sid Vicious, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Freddie Mercury and most of The Ramones—selling your soul to rock ‘n roll ain’t no bargain.

A night with Salma Hayek – Obviously, I’m married and would never swap my wife for Salma Hayek because … okay, I can’t type that with a straight face. (Sorry honey!) Still, maybe I’m an eternal optimist, or incredibly delusional, but if it came to it, I think I can pull this one off without the devil’s intervention. I’m smart, I’m not a horrible toad, I can be charming— it could happen, right? Right? Plus, even though Salma is muy caliente right now, who knows what she’ll be like in a decade or two. (Riiight.)

World peace – Pretty sure even Mephistopheles can’t bring this about, so why agree to it?

More time – Yes. This is a deal I’d take. I’m not saying that I want to live forever—existence would suck beyond belief if my wife and kids weren’t around—but if there were a way to get more hours in a day, or stop the world for a few years just so that I can catch up with all the projects I want to do and visit with all my friends and family, I’d definitely agree to that.

Okay, now that I know what I want, all I need is Old Scratch with a contract …