An Open Letter to Scott Pioli from Manning (the Ship).

Dear Mr. Pioli

You don’t me.

But as I understand you’re some sort of a strange little paranoid man. 

http://bit.ly/zivJJ2

That’s cool.

Judgment-free zone Scott, carry on and be as Weirdo McWeirderstein as you need to be.

And in the meantime sack up.

This damn town needs you.

I need you.

Peyton needs you.

I need Peyton. Wait. What?

Nevermind.

Here’s the thing about Kansas City Scotty. This town’s got a serious self-esteem problem. It’s like the nice guy who consistently misses out on the right girl because he doesn’t understand how to be nice without being a complete pushover.

Scott, I’m begging you. Look around! Do you EVEN know what you see in the eyes of the fine citizens of this town, in the eye’s of fans of this team?

You see a subtle flatness, Scott.

That’s right flatness.

It’s not unhappy. It’s not even discontent. But it’s flat.

It says, “ Yeah. It’s a nice town. It’s a good place to raise a family. Well I came back when it was time to grow up.”

And you know what you don’t see?

You don’t see the quiet confidence of the original mob town, wild west, bad ass mutha chuckin’ Missouri crazy, Scott. You just don’t see it.

And you know what that means Kim Jong Piloi?

It’s your time to shine little buddy.

This middle-aged crisis town and team is either going to buy a Corvette or start sleeping with some young bimbo who'll ruin the whole thing. 

Looking at to you Tim Tebow.

I digress...

Look Jam Master P, You got a reputation in this town. And between you, me and the listening devices you’ve got all over Todd Haley’s hot self, it ain’t a good one.  

No one does crazy quite like you Scott, so let’s see it. 

Show us your bat shit and get this Manning thing done.

It’s time to say goodbye to East Cost paranoid secret society conspiracy bullshit white collar asshole and reinvent, remerge old school KC bad ass old money mob boss go for broke on this whole fucking thing.

You get who you need to get in a plane.

You get them here.

You make them an offer they can’t refuse.

And you proclaim, for you, 

The Chief’s, 

The City and the entire god damn world that Kansas City’s back. 

And we're not fucking around this time.

Mr. Pioli. I need a man who has powerful friends. 

I need at least fifty million dollars in cash. 

I need, you Pioli, all of those politicians that you carry around in your pocket, like so many nickels and dimes. 

Because Peyton Manning needs this town and this town needs Peyton Manning.

You’re excused.

The Manning Family

An Open Letter to Peyton Manning. From KC's Other Manning.

Dear Peyton:

You don’t know me. Unless you consider that one time I convinced this complete moron I used to work with that you were my husband back when you still played for Tennessee.

Yup that happened. Ask around.

Or that time when against all the hipsters of the time I proudly stood up and wrote an absolutely stunning editorial on why you were the better choice to go #1 against Leaf.

Not the point.

The point is this:

Long, long ago in a blog post far away or not that far if you just click here: http://themaulofamerica.blogspot.com/2010_01_01_archive.html -

I set forth on a new chapter of life. And pinned all the dreams of my new start on the shoulders of the Minnesota Vikings and a little town on the Prairie called Kansas City, Missouri.

Look I didn’t say I was the smart one in the family Peyton.

I digress.

Anyway – four score and a strange parallel life story thing with Brett Favre as my role model and idol later – I’m still here. Stronger than ever.

In Kansas F’n City, Missouri.

Looking back – I’m still amazed on a daily basis how completely lost I was when I started this little journey through life/NFL prognosticator extraordinare blogger way back then.

Sadly for my Minnesota Vikings, things are, stuff’s well, suffice to say – the material’s a little dry in the NFC North these days.

So faced with the heart wrenching sadness you can only feel when you’ve been through knowing that no matter how hard you try, the place you always thought would be home, the place you grew up, had your best memories and the place that, well your heart was just couldn’t be anymore, with that kind of sadness I just prepared to let go of Maul of America.

Then a funny thing happened.

Plus, your brother won the Super Bowl, and, as I like to do at the end of the season – I tried to remember what I predicted and I found it right here, at The Maul of America. Where on December 31, 2010 I ended the season by predicting:

Game on Indy. Game on. A new Manning's Coming to Town.

And everyone thought I was crazy - and sure as hell, you're out in Indy and a new Manning came to town to win the Super Bowl.

Who's crazy now Peyton?

I'm like a damn Nostradamus of the NFL right now. And with the Mayan Curse of 2012 rushing toward us with the four horsemen of the Apocalypse and a pregnant Snookie to drive death down upon us - you wanna make sure you've got a mind like mine and a town like KC behind when you when it all goes down.

You’re a smart guy Peyton.

I’m a smart girl.

I think you can see where I’m headed.

And I trust you see what we can do together.

If not, let me paint you a picture:

For over two years the Maul of America has been a little platform of dreams. For me and other NFL and life fans who have to have a fairy tale ending to be shooting for, this little corner of the Information Superhighway has provided at the very least a laugh or perspective on what day-to-day life in our little spheres can feel like.

And now, I’m here – in life, in KC. I’m happy. I’m healthy. And I’m fucking completely amazed on a daily basis how lucky I am to have had the journey the last two years has taken me on.

And for some reason it all just ended up coming together in Kansas City.

So Peyton, it’s time.

And I’m talking Manning to Manning here.

It’s time to beat the cynics.

Together.

Let’s you and I finally pull this off – middle-aged woman with odd NFL obsession finds the right QB in the right town to write the comeback story of a lifetime.

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

Real legends always go down on their terms Peyton, and legendary Manning’s even more so.

Let’s do it Peyton let’s write the GenX Fight Song Fairy Tale Ending to put ‘em all to shame.

It’s an election year. The world’s going to end anyway – why not dream big?

Come on Peyton.

Pick Kansas City.

Pick helping me write the ending to the first female NFL novel in all of time and space.

Pick hanging on to the belief that there’s still a fairy tale ending and you’re “THIS CLOSE” to grabbing it.

Pick Kansas City.

A bit dramatic?

Maybe.

But let's face it, in a world and in a time when unless you’re not paying any attention whatsoever you can’t help but be seriously cynical about some of the crazy shit going on.

The world needs us and a little something to believe in.

And Kansas City’s the right town. 
And now’s the right time.

(In fairness Peyton, what did you expect from a gal who grew up believing and makes a living banking on others believing a Coke and a smile can change the world?)

So P, for the love of God and Red and Gold and everything else, it’s time to choose KC.

Not for the Super Bowl. But for the story.

The world, and this little Vikings fan who’s now ready, after a lifetime journey to let go of a little piece of home to shoot for the dream of a new town and whole new kind of home in particular, could use a little sumthing' to let us know it's still ok to hope.

I beg you Peyton, toss me a bone.

Pun intended,

Sarah

Oh and p.s. When you do come back, make sure you sign the deal to make the commercial about this letter - it'd be pretty bad ass. And I’ve got the perfect agency in mind to help you launch it. Have your people call me.