A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 11

Dear Brett,

You know how if a song played during an important moment of your life--first sleepover, first basketball game, first kiss, losing one's virginity, insert any other significant moment-- you tend to relive that moment whenever you hear the song, no matter when or where you hear it or how much time's gone by, that's what you've become.

No matter how far removed from your time as a Packer we Green Bay fans are, the mentioning of your stupid streak and whether or not you are going to play with a broken ankle, a concussion, a shattered vertebrae, or a tarnished legacy takes all of us back to the days when we used to spend all week holding our collective breath awaiting your decision on whether to suit up or not.  And we hoped to God you always would, your "I think I can play" sounding like a rainbow after a flood.

And, while your body was broken for that streak (and we all sat comfortably in the stands or on our couches), that streak happened in large part because we cheered.  Face it, without us you wouldn't have sacrificed shit.  You needed us, and you know it  And we're tired of you not letting this story come to a a sensible end.

We beat you and your Vikings last weekend, busted your team's hopes and two bones in your ankle, yet you couldn't let the streak end there, where it started.  No, you had to suit up and limp through a game against the Patriots today, wearing that hideous purple and gold, that purple the color of a bruise showing us that our cheeseheads and our painted bellies had nothing to do with your Messiah complex.  You didn't give a damn about our dreams.  You did this all for yourself, maybe some guys in the locker room, but the color of the uniform had nothing to do with it.  And we had nothing to do with it, and you never really cared for what we cared for.

The streak should have ended in Lambeau, your reputation limping naked through the Wisconsin wind in nothing but a pair of crocs.  Clay Matthews should have been the one to bury you. That would have been a decent ending.  That would have been coming around full circle.  But then you've always been terrible at endings, so this abomination of a season must go on, and your name must arrive in our ears like an annoying text message in the middle of the night, begging the question: why did we ever root for you in the first place?  And why can we not enjoy a 9-0 win against the New York Jets without having to be reminded at 4:00 that everything that happens to our current team is somehow related to the shit you do?

Sincerely,
a Packers fan


PS Does Ryan Longwell dress up like you for Halloween?