Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Righting A Wrong: An Open Letter to Brett Favre to Join the Jets

Dear Mr. Favre –

I completely understand why you want to return, let me just start there. Maybe you were rushed into making the decision by Packers management who wanted to kick-start their youth movement and usher in the new era of football in Green Bay. Perhaps they kept whispering in your ear how much better your life would be trudging around your four hundred and some odd acre ranch in the middle of nowhere. They probably kept reminding you of your injuries and the games in the bad weather and kept saying things like “you should go out on top” or “you returned the Packers to glory, but it’s time to move on” or something along those lines. And with the playoff defeat still fresh in your mind six weeks later, you knew you COULD still play, but you weren’t sure you could put yourself through another year and fall short of the ultimate goal: the Super Bowl. Because, let’s be honest Brett, the busted thumb, the sore shoulder, the twisted ankles, the bruised knees, they all pale in comparison to the hurt of losing that last game of the year. You weren’t sure you could put yourself through that one more time and disappoint your teammates, your fans and yourself. That’s what truly sparked your retirement announcement, wasn’t?

So after floating the idea to your former bosses a few weeks ago who were less than thrilled with the idea, you’re now sitting on your back porch seriously contemplating taking the field again this year, but this time in another jersey. You’re probably having moments of disgust thinking of those old pictures and videos of Joe Montana in a Chiefs jersey, Johnny Unitas in a Chargers jersey or Joe Namath in a Rams jersey. But here’s the difference Brett: none of those guys switched teams after throwing for 4,000 yards and nearly 30 TD’s the year before. They were all in the twilight of their careers, and they knew it. They just couldn’t give it up. You can’t give it up either, but you’re still putting up Pro Bowl seasons. It’s completely different. Even if it’s not, do you think the fans of Montana, Unitas and Namath think any less of them? Hell no. Will Packers fans think any less of you? Hell no.

You still want to play because you still can play, there’s no denying that. Even if Ted Thompson wants to deny that, you can’t. You go ahead and show up to training camp if that’s the way he wants it. If he doesn’t want to give you back YOUR team then he should be man enough to let you finish your career some place else. Now he will obviously not want you to go and play for a division rival and he will obviously not want you to even stay in the same conference. But guess what? You don’t have to. There’s been one wrong that has been burning to be made right Brett. In 1991 you were one pick away from being a New York Jet. It’s now time to bring you home Brett. To the big city with the big lights where your Wrangler billboards can be plastered all over the city. The Jets are built to win now Brett. GM Mike Tannenbaum and head coach Eric Mangini went on the mother of all spending sprees to fix the defense and the offensive lines. The Jets have a running back tandem in Thomas Jones and Leon Washington that are begging not to see eight men in the box. We have two outstanding receivers in Laveranues Coles and Jerricho Cotchery, a freak of nature rookie tight end in Dustin Keller, and your old buddy Bubba Franks. You remember him, right? All the puzzle pieces are there Brett, the Jets are just missing that one piece that can make this team a Super Bowl contender. They tried jamming the all guts no glory of Chad Pennington into the puzzle and the misguided quarterback of the future Kellen Clemmons into the same space, but neither quite fit. Right the Wrong Brett. Fulfill your destiny and get that Super Bowl ring in 2008. Be a Jet!

Thank you for your time,

Sincerely,
TD Hill and every single Jets fan on the face of this planet

1 comments:

Anonymous said...

That is one hell of a dream my friend, but you know it will never happen.