[INT. – NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS TRAINING CAMP.]
[A full moon shines over the night sky at Gillette Stadium, as an eerie quiet settles over the sleepy town of Foxborough, MA.]
[No wind blows, and no streetlights shine. All is pitch dark, and an image slowly fades into focus as the viewer’s eyes adjust to the night.]
[Slowly, a hooded figure, all in black, walks to centre field. The figure stops, looks up into the night, and plants a burning torch upright into the ground.]
HOODED FIGURE: [grumbles softly]
[The hooded figure does not remove the hood, but turns back, towards the thousands of empty seats, waiting for something – or someone – to appear.]
[From the shadows, a second hooded figure emerges with a lit torch, and plants it at centre field, next to the first.]
SECOND HOODED FIGURE: My Lord, is it time for the ritual?
HOODED FIGURE: [Grumbling] Dammit, everyone’s late. Whatever, let’s go. Send for…
…the new ones.
[The second hooded figure lowers his hood, revealing TOM BRADY; he tilts his head slightly, beckoning for the others.]
TOM BRADY: Yes, my Lord.
Julian. Daniel. Robert. Bring forth to me your new brother.
[EDELMAN, AMENDOLA, and GRONKOWSKI emerge, struggling to carry a large burlap sack that is furiously resisting being dragged out to meet the hooded masters on field.]
[BRADY pulls out a large pair of scissors, slicing through the thick knot, revealing a bound, gagged, and soaking wet MARTELLUS BENNETT, on his knees as he is held captive; his eyes widen at the sight of the tall man in front of him.]
BRADY: What you are about to witness is likely something you’ve never seen before in your time in this league, Martellus. There is no need to be afraid. It will all be over soon, and you will soon become one of us.
[BRADY removes the tape over BENNETT’s mouth.]
BENNETT: [gasping for air] The fuck is this shit? When my agent told me I was coming here I thought I was coming to a bunch of winners, not psychotic Klansmen lunatics! Fuck is wrong with y’all?
BRADY: [slightly annoyed] OK, first off, not Klansmen. See the hoods? Dark. Also, not pointy. Plus, we are thrilled to have individuals like Dion and LeGarrette here. Is that not so, gentlemen?
[LEWIS and BLOUNT throw back their hoods to look menacingly at Bennett]
BRADY: Second, we are a collective of winners. Not a single one of us denies this on this team. But you must see, Martellus, that winning is never easy. Indeed, the price is high. What you are about to witness, Martellus, you can never forget. You are never, ever allowed to forget. Indeed, we had to perform this same ritual three times for our dearly departed friend Wesley, and it turned out rather more unfortunately for him, I think. Get the others, gentlemen.
[More burlap sacks are ripped open; BENNETT is joined by JONATHAN COOPER, CHRIS LONG, and finally, as a gaggle of tiny backup slot receivers struggle mightily to carry in an especially large sack, TERRANCE KNIGHTON emerges from within.]
[The just-freed players cower in fear as BRADY and HOODED FIGURE loom large over them.]
BRADY: Men. You are all now Patriots. As true Patriots, you must understand this: nothing in life will ever come ahead of winning. Your family, your friends, your own goals and ambitions – they are all irrelevant. To truly become one of us – and you do want to be one of us, do you not? – you must embrace winning at any and all costs. You may wonder if the things the media says about us are true. I can tell you without question that every word is true. Yes, we videotaped the Jets. Yes, we deflated the footballs. And I can also tell you this – not a single person in this entire organization gives two shits about ethics and morality. And this is for a good reason, gentlemen.
BENNETT: The fuck you still on about?
BRADY: The reason, gentlemen, we care not about ethics and morality is due to the fact that BLEERGH Himself does not concern himself with such trifling mortal concerns. And tonight, we honour BLEERGH, we honour victory, and we honour The Patriot Way.
[BRADY grabs his torch from the ground]
My Lord, you have our full attention.
KNIGHTON: [burps loudly]
LONG: [whispering] Shit, man, you’re spoiling the mood. Cut it out.
HOODED FIGURE: [grumbling as fingers stumble over a seemingly ancient leather-bound book] Hmm, hmm, ‘k, yeah. Here it is.
For strength, courage, spirit, and [grumbling] victory in battle, we bring to You, great BLEERGH, the new & the old, the soft & the hard; we offer You the pieces for a complete team to please You.
For the best tight-end combo in the league, we offer You Martellus Bennett.
For a renewed offensive line, we offer You Jonathan Cooper, and we return to You Dante Scarnecchia, a fine line coach to carry out Your word.
For a defensive line in need of a good pass rush, we offer You Chris Long.
For defending the run, we offer You Terrance Knighton to add to a strong committee of interior defenders led by Jabaal Sheard.
For a running game that needs to handle an extended absence of Dion Lewis, we burn this weed for You as an offering, and to attract LeGarrette Blount to the end zones.
For a bullshit suspension depriving us of our on-field leader for four games, we offer You Jimmy Garoppolo and a lot of safe checkdown routes in return for going at least 2-2 in our first four games.
May You grant us eternal seasons of 12-4 and a first-round playoff bye, in Your omnipotent power. Hail BLEERGH.
BRADY, EDELMAN, AMENDOLA, GRONK, LEWIS, BLOUNT, TINY BACKUP SLOT RECEIVERS: HAIL BLEERGH!
HOODED FIGURE: Now, mark the new ones.
[BENNETT and KNIGHTON look at each other in confused terror]
LONG: Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine.
BENNETT: How the fuck you know that?
LONG: This is all better than having to move to fucking Inglewood. Easier to deal with a little bit of blood than all of the Crips, really.
[BRADY once again brandishes his trusty pair of scissors and slices the right palm of each new player, revealing a small trickle of blood. AMENDOLA and EDELMAN catch the blood in small goblets, making sure to wrap the hand tightly afterwards.]
BRADY: Robert, did you bring along what was requested of you?
GRONK: [tossing his hood back, revealing a face lighting up with excitement] The beer? Shit, sure did! Right over there! Want one?
BRADY: No, but I want you to fill these pitchers almost full. Someone will be coming soon, and when he does, the ritual will be almost complete.
[GRONK fills the pitchers full of beer and races back to centre field awaiting further instructions].
BRADY: Now, Julian, Daniel. The blood of our newest, if you please.
[EDELMAN and AMENDOLA pour the goblets of blood into the pitchers; GRONK looks visibly upset by this but puts his hood back up to hide how distraught he is]
BRADY: And finally, now, bring in the fool.
[LEWIS and BLOUNT whisk off, returning scant seconds later with a highly intoxicated, shirtless man, completely confused in the dark of the night…]
TAWMMY: FACK YOU! FACK YOU! THE FACK’S GOIN’ ON? YOU FACKIN’ HOODED CHOWDAHEADS DRAGGIN’ ME OUT HEAH TO SOMEWHEAH WITH NO LIGHTS AND NO MOAH FACKIN’ BEEAH? FACK!
BRADY: It will be alright, Thomas. Fortunately, you are here to do some of your most beloved residents of Massachussetts a big favour indeed. Tell me, my dear fellow, are you a fan of the New England Patriots?
TAWMMY: DOES THE POPE SHIT ON A GOLDEN CAN? YOU FACKIN’ BET, SINCE BEFOAH EVEN THE DAHHHK TIMES OF 2005-2014. NO ONE DENIES THIS!
BRADY: And tell me, good sir, are you a fan of free beer?
TAWMMY: I’D SELL MY COUSIN SULLY TO THE FACKIN’ PUERTO RICANS IN PROVIDENCE IF IT MEANT I’D GET SOME FREE FACKIN’ BEEAH!!
BRADY: Wonderful. Please, observe the pitchers in front of you. They are all for you, and have been prepared specially for this very instance.
TAWMMY: WELL FACK ME, YOU KNOW HOW TO FACKIN’ PAHHTY DONTCHA! [grabs the pitchers and chugs, gulping down the foul mess]
BRADY: And now, my Lord, if you please, the final piece of the ritual.
[The HOODED FIGURE reaches into the cloak and produces a picture in a frame, seen below, which is placed on the ground in front of TAWMMY, who’s now swaying back and forth and feeling very nauseous.]
TAWMMY: FACK ME, I THINK I’M GONNA SPEW, BOYS…
[He violently vomits everywhere over the picture of Goodell]
ALL OTHERS: HAIL BLEERGH!
BRADY: Thank you, gentlemen. The ritual has concluded. We shall reconvene tomorrow morning on this same field, this time as true brothers in every sense of the world, and now will be prepared properly to win at all costs. We all appreciate your time here tonight.
[EDELMAN, AMENDOLA, GRONK and the others untie the new Patriots, all leave, save for BRADY and the HOODED FIGURE]
BRADY: Well, that was pretty good, but at the same time, I feel it wasn’t quite our best effort.
HOODED FIGURE: [grumbling] Well it’s about fuckin’ time this is over. I hate these shapeless robes.
[The HOODED FIGURE removes the robes to reveal GISELE BUNDCHEN underneath]
BRADY: I just wish you didn’t see the need to involve yourself so much on our behalf. We were running the ceremony and this team just fine before – I quite liked having Belichick here as part of the ceremonies in years past – it scared the new guys even more.
GISELE: Well, you didn’t win last year, and that’s just unacceptable to me. I’m doing what I have to do to put you back on top. Now shut the fuck up and let’s just go home, it’s too late for any more of this bullshit.
BRADY: [sheepishly] Yes, my Lord.