Take the money. Wherever it comes from. Sentiment be damned. Because if we’ve learned anything in this Bill Belichick Era, it’s that sentiment is just another word in a musty old dictionary that no one ever looks at. By all accounts, the Patriots didn’t have to go into the witching hour of free agency that began Tuesday afternoon, with your fate with the Pats as up in the air as a windblown punt. This all could have been resolved a long time ago — the pressure off, your future here secured, the public assurance that the Patriots not only value you but are prepared to make sure that you remain Tom Brady’s security blanket. That they did not means this is all about business. Or as the age-old player lament about professional sports goes, “When I say it’s a sport, they say it’s a business, and when I say it’s a business, they say it’s a sport.” Rest assured, Wes, it’s a business. Then again, I suspect you’ve always known this. You should, judging by your football resumé. You’ve always been a great story, of course, the ultimate overachiever, someone who’s always overcome a whole football field full of odds. You were the undrafted guy out of Texas Tech, the guy who always had to prove it every step of the way. Too small. Too slow. Too something. This always was the unwritten part of your resumé. And in an NFL world that’s all about size and athleticism, you’ve always had to prove it. Why? Simple. You’ve never passed the eye test.