Think of this letter as my own personal "This is it", just for you.
So here goes, I’m sick of your shit.
I get it. I admire it. On some level I attempt to emulate it.
But I’m sick of it.
Let me walk you through the program:
Either you’re a legend.
Or you’re not.
Bottom line Brett, the books ain’t going to give a Mississippi Mud Hound’s nut sack about anything else if you leave now.
The Lambeau Legend? The comeback kid? The only grandfather to QB in the NFL?
And you’ll go to pasture as the whiny douchebag even the Packers could figure was all washed up.
And Brett, if I were a betting woman, and let's be honest, I think it’s pretty clear I obviously am, I digress...
If I were a betting woman, I'd easily lay down a solid hundy on your silver fox ass giving me a shout-out as you take the field in New Orleans.
Cuz you see Brett – we made a deal.
I’m going to keep chasing the dream in the off-season. And then you take over come Fall.
And together you and me prove once and for all the whole world loves a comeback. It's what makes us human.
Why the hell else would I have ended up in Missouri again?
Not the point.
The point Brett?
The point is Brett I call bullshit on this whole will he/won't he game.
I don’t think you can walk away like that.
And you know why?
Because it’s not about a Super Bowl. It’s not about money. It’s about the story.
And you my friend – are a man innately fueled by story.
Don't kid yourself.
The fact you’re still a little pissed at Green Bay for booting you without letting you close the story on your terms and in your town doesn’t hurt.
Between you, me and the fence post you’re sitting on sweet cheeks– the season is upon us.
And you got an ending to write.
Show your horns.
Oh and P.S. I gotta tell you. I don't think we're talking commercial anymore Brett. I'm pretty sure we're moving awfully close to movie territory. Have your people call me. Oh and don't force me to pimp out a dedication version of Kenny Chesney's new "Boys of Fall" hit -- I'm not above that Brett. Not in the least.