Sunday, January 2, 2011

A Filthy Letter to Brett Favre.

Dear Brett:

You don’t know me. Unless you consider that whole Tap That award, but I don’t so you shouldn’t.

Not the point.

The point is, just under a year ago Mr. Favre, I sat down and jotted off a letter to you.

I begged you to return. I beseeched you to bring me, my town and my team a Super Bowl.

And then, in an act of pure genius, I vowed to chronicle the season, providing a literary allegory for my own growth and success this year. I dreamed of a Hollywood ending where my dreams all came true the day you brought a Super Bowl to Minnesota.

So that was an amazing plan.

Not the point.

The point is Brett, I tried. 
Really hard all season. Really hard to drum up something positive.  All year – for you, the team and for me.

And now here we are – last game of the season. No playoffs. No stadium. No, well we’ve got nothing.

And I spent a lot of time trying to think about a way to properly wrap up this season. This chapter. 

And then it hit me like a random sext shot of your…sorry, I can’t let that go.

Not the point.

The point is, then it came to me - Fuck ‘em Brett.

Just fuck ‘em.
The haters I mean.

No matter what anyone wants to say - the world loves a story.  The ratings and continued interest in our little team this year proves it.  And I’m pretty sure Goddell and his 50K baby fine proves it too.

No matter how hard the haters try to argue, this season was never about a championship, it was about a story. 

Your story.

A story of redemption and return. Of letting go and starting over.

You see no matter what side stories popped up this season, you know which one will live on?

The one about how 2010 became the season you finally sealed your rightful place in the history of the NFL:

Filthiest MF Ever to Play the Game.

It’s like I told you at the beginning of the season, the vast majority of us are just hanging out here in NFL fandom going through our day-to-day lives looking for something to be passionate about. We all secretly hope for something to come along and rustle awake some little piece of ourselves that’s gone or long forgotten.  

And on some level, whether we admit it or not, we’d all love another chance to keep that kind of passion burning just a little bit longer.  We’d all love just one shot to write the ending of our dreams.

Real legends always go down on their terms Brett and if nothing else you provided a GenX Fight Song to dull the static gathering hold of our lives.

A bit dramatic?

What do you expect from a gal who was taught to believe a Coke and a smile could change the world?

Not the point. 

The point is, I thank you for sharing this closing chapter of your career with me, my town and my team. 

And more importantly thanks for bringing me, my town and my team what we all really wanted - one hell of a good story.

If nothing else you helped this aging veteran realize it’s not always about winning.

It’s not always about one last championship title.

Sometimes it’s just about getting back on the field, playing the game you love and refusing to quit until they damn near have to drag your dead body off the field.

And then when the time is right, it’s about stepping aside and watching from the sidelines.

But still smirking because after all these years, you figured it out – when love of the game is what you’re out there for – the rest is just background noise.

Hat’s Off Brett.

You are.

Simply, the best that ever was.

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