It’s one thing to be a natural. It’s quite another to be Tom Brady. Sure, with five Super Bowl rings and a shot at a sixth this Sunday, he makes gridiron stardom appear easy. But it was not always so.
Back in 2000, Brady was a sixth-round draft pick who looked soft of body and far from worthy of supermodel Gisele Bündchen. Somehow, though, he transformed from long shot to big shot. Now 40, Brady reigns as the shining example of longevity in the pocket.
Inspired by his success and godlike status, I spent an entire week living like Brady. I ate like him, exercised like him, slept like him — and even attempted to think like him. His new book “The TB12 Method” (Simon & Schuster) served as my guide.
Unlike mere mortals, Brady exercises for two hours a day, spikes all his water (purified only, please) with electrolytes, aims to be asleep every night by 9 p.m. in his special $200 pajamas, and refuses to eat “dark-shaded vegetables” to “minimize even small amounts of inflammation.”
In short, it sucked.
On the upside, I lost 3 pounds in just a week.
I also learned to enjoy kale cooked in coconut oil and, in the words of Brady’s go-to self-help author, Don Miguel Ruiz, even attempted to “transcend to the level of existence” of “heaven on earth.”
Here’s how my occasionally harrowing journey through Bradyland shook out.
Eat like Brady
Tom Brady follows a wildly restrictive diet: No bread, no pasta, no sugar, no dairy, no coffee and no potentially inflammatory tomatoes or mushrooms. He says that he’s not missing out. I now know that a week without caffeine is torturous.
Nevertheless, I replace my morning cup with electrolyte-laced water (Brady says it drives water molecules to cells and results in increased hydration; my cells shrug). I gulp 200 ounces a day — Brady downs 150 to 300 ounces — and rarely pass a restroom without ducking in. The deprivation left me exhausted and snoozing on the subway. While standing, I develop a habit of lunging forward after quick stops.
Inspired by his success and godlike status, I spent an entire week living like Brady. In short, it sucked.
I’m able to follow his diet by day — green juice in lieu of toast for breakfast, broiled salmon on top of green salad for lunch are easy enough. But after dark, when bread and wine get ferried to dinner tables, I squirm and suffer and struggle to stay strong. While out with friends one night, I caved: Not only did I have a margarita, but I sopped up oily garlic sauce with warm French bread.
But, hey: Brady got suspended by the NFL; I only cheated on his diet.
Brady offers about a dozen recipes in the book. Cooking like No. 12 is neither cheap — think organic, local, seasonal — nor time saving, as Brady’s big on making meals from scratch. After hours of shopping and cooking, I bust out the Brady Bowl: roasted sweet potatoes, kale, quinoa, carrots, curry-spiked dip. I’m so hungry that I don’t mind eating it. However, the dish leaves my teenage daughters cold and my kitchen trashed. Risotto made from brown rice and coconut oil fares better. And avocado “ice cream” — avocado blended with raw cashews, young coconut, dates, cacao powder and water — does not rival a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s. But when you’re living in Tom’s World? Hell, it’s the bomb.
One recipe I’ll repeat: Brown minced garlic in coconut oil, remove pan from heat, throw in chopped kale and toss until the kale wilts. That was really easy and really good — especially when I called an audible to toss in raw cashews.
Sweat like Brady
Be Brady for a week, and you will be exercising. I expect free weights, treadmills, maybe isometrics. Then, I open “The TB12 Method” and see Brady and his model stand-ins working out with elastic straps and vibrating balls. First impression: This is a joke. Then, I go to the gym and feel like I’m going to kill myself using a foam-covered log and my own bodyweight to work calf muscles.
Brady’s resistance-strap regimen is nothing to laugh at. He puts in two hours a day but swears that using the straps and only your own weight to build upper- and lower-body strength is super-efficient. Never mind that his single-leg clock jumps — which require leaping around on one foot — nearly land me flat on my face. Aching muscles — from standing, squatting, stretching, reaching and, yes, struggling, with various elastic bands — tell me he’s right about getting a strong workout sans iron. In terms of time, if I really was Tom, I’d go the 120-minute route. But 20 minutes proves to be plenty for me and my dad bod.
Brady’s most useful advice: Before attempting a pushup with the straps — laid across your back, held down with your hands, providing a ridiculous tension that makes each upward push a battle — make sure you can do a regular pushup. I’m fine with the latter, struggle with the former and vow to keep struggling with it until I can complete a full set without collapsing like a poorly built bridge.
Sleep like Brady
Brady suggests nine hours of sleep per night. He swears that it brings not only relaxation, but also muscle recovery. He enhances his slumber with his own “athlete recovery sleepwear,” made in conjunction with Under Armour.
I manage to log nine hours, feel chipper and am less than desperate for coffee. But the solid nine is often curtailed by my dog nudging me awake and garbage trucks clattering outside my window. Plus, it’s tough to kick the Kimmel habit and I routinely doze off with the TV blasting.
Brady’s sleepwear, though, makes it all worthwhile.
Stiffly priced — around $200 — his high-tech garb ranks as the most comfortable pajamas I’ve ever worn. Brady claims that they absorb infrared wavelengths given off by the body and reflect them back, reducing the inflammation that he and I endure from our strenuous workouts. Maybe that’s true over the long term. During the course of a week, though, not so much. Undeniable: Brady’s pj’s are also swell for lounging at home and causing teenage daughters to call you ridiculous looking.
I don’t care. They’re just jealous. Thanks, Tom!
Think like Brady
As a quarterback, Brady values his brain as much as his knees. He’s big on developing pattern-recognition skills. Apparently, I should be as well. So I spring for a subscription to his TB12 BrainHQ website, which runs $96 per year after a free monthlong trial.
I log on and begin training. You go through a series of tests, hopefully pass them and move on to the next level. I remember butterfly patterns flawlessly, still can’t understand a drill with desert motifs and disappearing Route 66 signs, and struggle through an exercise with throbbing patterns. As of now: not quite graduated to the next level of BrainHQ and wondering if online poker is a better path to a cognitive touchdown. (Note to self: Cancel the free trial within 30 days.)
Then, there is Brady’s bible: Don Miguel Ruiz’s “The Four Agreements.” Brady has been rereading the slender volume for nine years. With its quartet of seemingly Boy Scout-worthy tenets — including “Don’t make assumptions,” “Don’t take anything personal,” “Always do your best” — the book has been credited with getting him through Deflategate.
The first agreement centers on being “impeccable with your word” and, attempting to think like Brady, it leads to a quick repositioning of how I describe myself to myself. It works: I’m a fantastic guy!
Hang with models like Brady
Eating and exercising are one thing, but the true test of being Brady is: Can you hold your own with a gorgeous model?
Brady has always surrounded himself with beautiful women. He was briefly linked to bombshell Layla Roberts, had a baby with actress-model Bridget Moynahan and then took up with and married Brazilian cover girl Gisele Bündchen.
I enlist Brazilian model Kaira to join me for lunch at vegan hot spot By Chloe — vegan poke bowl for her, guac burger on lettuce for me. Let’s face it: I’m a married dad from Park Slope and she’s on the clock for a photo shoot — how the heck do I hold her attention?
So I do what I figure Tom does when he hangs out with Gisele: Talk about Gisele. My South American lunch date reports, “Gisele is very Brazilian. She has a good personality and is not in her head at all. She’s friendly.”
As for Tom’s standing back home, she says, “I never hear anyone talk about Brady. American football is not popular in Brazil.”
My ego is as deflated as Brady’s ball — and I fear I’m losing her.
If I were the authentic Tom, I might win her back by suggesting we jet to our compound in Costa Rica. But I’m me, and somehow I don’t think she wants to talk about the service warranty on my Volkswagen.
Clearly, there are some things that only the real Tom Brady can do — and it goes well beyond throwing a 99-yard touchdown pass.