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Why Brett, Why?

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Brett, are you listening?  You are one of the greatest quarterbacks in NFL history.  There isn’t anything left for you to accomplish, neither good, nor bad.  You own just about every record that a quarterback could, from yards and touchdowns to interceptions and retirements.

Brett, your desperation to have an Elway moment is as apparent as a junior high student walking around the halls with a book strategically held around his beltline.  You aren’t quite a punch-drunk Muhammad Ali stumbling around the ring against Trevor Berbick, or a lost Willie Mays in the outfield for the Mets, but you are getting close. You beat vicodin addiction, persevered through the difficulty of a spouse dealing with cancer, and even the pain that accompanies losing a parent. You continued to shine, continued to play the game like a kid on the schoolyard, but unfortunately Brett, every kid on the schoolyard turns into a forty-something adult remembering what it was like to be a teen and immortal.

America loves “the last hurrah”.  Jack at Augusta in ’86, Watson’s near triumph at Turnberry in ‘09, the aforementioned Elway, riding into the sunset with back-to-back rings. The main problem Brett, is that you can’t stay out of your own way long enough to be the underdog. Your career has gone from Vincent Chase season 1, on top of the world, to Vincent Chase season 6, dating porn stars and addicted to coke. The reason is, the media sets out the bait, and you take it every time like the red snapper that you should be fishing for on your boat in Louisiana.

The 2009 season ended in the rudest of ways for you. Riding high, on the way to the Super Bowl, your 20 year old mind squared off against 40 year old body, and as always is the case, father time won that battle.  In one throw, you went from “Pants on the Ground” with Percy to sessions on the couch with your therapist.

You were close, so close, to having your moment, but when that pass fell into the hands of Tracy Porter in the NFC championship game, the writing was on the wall; it just wasn’t meant to be. You refused to acknowledge it, and allowed yourself to be talked in to coming back, again.  Has it been worth it? Since coming back, NFL fans have been treated to, aside from a sporadic flash of brilliance: bad football, desperate voicemails, and pictures that can’t be unseen.

Tiger has gone through his share of troubles, but when he is in contention, the country is pulling for him, as much as they will say that they aren’t; check the ratings.  MJ wasn’t anywhere close to his peak capabilities on the court with the Wizards, but everyone was watching for those jaw-dropping Air Jordan moments.  Your constant running to the media, telling them that you don’t want to talk, but in the same breath telling them everything, has put you in the same category as Octomom and Mel Gibson’s phone messages; irrelevant sideshows.  Legends don’t make themselves available, they don’t have to.  They don’t tell the world that their coach is an idiot. They don’t tell teammates that they are done, and deny it the next day.  Legends have an air about them, a constant forward stare. They don’t worry about the periphery, they don’t have to.  The big dog doesn’t cater to the mutts, but you Brett, you are too busy looking around to notice.


2 Responses to “Why Brett, Why?”

  1. Hope Brett gets to read this. Maybe it will help him focus one way or the other. You’re right on.

    Posted by sportnut679 | October 23, 2010, 7:41 pm
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