Roughly two years ago, Antonio Brown started working on a canvas of grievances.
It was a wildly abstract and unquestionably messy passion of the mercurial NFL wideout, with social media contours aimed wherever his jarring bursts of emotion took him. It was almost a form of attack art — rarely aspiring toward the deft precision of Michelangelo but always leaning into the all-angles aggression of Jackson Pollock.
Through it all, one undeniable interpretation emerged about Antonio Brown: His…
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