Circe

The Odyssey has the Oracle, football's got bookmakers.

Circe the witch turned those sailors into pigs, the NFL turn fat guys into hogs.

And Tom Brady, for what it's worth, is looking more and more like a cat.

Although, that may have less to do with voodoo than it does Botox.

The Shorelore of the Goddess Begin on a bright morning on a wooded island at the fire of a friend in the last quiet hour before the hardest sailing of a man's life.

The island was Ayaya, and the friend was the goddess Circe, and you may remember them both, or you may be meeting them now for the first time.

There was a house of dressed stone and a clearing in the woods, with a great lume in it that sang all day under a goddess's hands, and wolves and mountain lions lay about the yard as gentle as farm dogs.

and the man who had come there an enemy a year before was leaving it now a friend.

He did not dwell on it, going down to the water that morning, and neither will the fire.

But he knew the arithmetic, the way he knew everything, and he carried it quietly, the way you carry a small stone in a pocket, not looking at it, always feeling it there, They ran the ship down into the shallows, and stepped a mast in its box, and set the white sail, and took their places along the benches at the oars.

And Circe, who was a friend now, and a friend to the very end, did a friend's last kindness.

She sent them a wind, a good wind, a following wind.