Friday, September 5, 2008

Dear Jake...

Dear Snake,

How’s it going? I’m writing to you because I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Not in a gay way or anything. I’m just one of your biggest fans and it’s starting to sink in that you might not be playing ever again in the NFL.

I’m a full grown man and have a pretty good job. I go to work 5 days a week to my boring job and the one thing I had to look forward to all year is the football season featuring my favorite player, Jake Plummer. Well, now you’ve retired rather than play for Tampa Bay. I can understand that. Tampa Bay is far away and it’s very hot and humid. I don’t like humidity. It makes my clothes all sticky. You can see my nipples when my clothes get sticky. This probably is less of a problem for you because you’re so big and strong and well-built, but I’m sure it’s still bothersome.

Anyway, I’ve been moping about the house. Baseball is meaningless to me and even my favorite TV shows aren’t as interesting anymore. Every time I’m close to being entertained by something, I imagine your handsome, full-bearded face dancing in front of my eyes, as you drop back to throw a sure touchdown. Sometimes you pull the ball in close and start running for the first down. Either way, I become depressed because I start wondering if I’ll ever see it for real again. My girl is telling me to get over you, but she doesn’t understand how I feel about you. You’ve been a part of my life ever since you first suited up for Arizona State, and now that you’re gone I don’t know what I’ll do. I realize that sounds harsh, like you’re dead or something, but if you aren’t in a football uniform, you just aren’t as alive to me as you used to be. And if you aren’t alive, I wonder if I’m really alive.

Sometimes I stand at the edge of the cliffs out by my house and wonder if there is life after Jake. I never jump, because you wouldn’t want me to jump and I respect that, but even so, I wonder and despair. I’m not mad at you, Jake. How could I be mad at you? You’ve been there for me through all the good times. Like the time my dog died, and I was sad, and you made me feel better by beating the Cowboys in the playoffs with the Cardinals. That was a nice thing you did Jake, and even though you may not have known it, I really think that was meant to make me feel better. I also remember the time I jinxed you when I forgot to pick my girl up from her mom’s house, and the next day the Broncos lost to the Colts in the playoffs. I know it’s hard to forgive me for that, but a good guy like you probably did.

Anyway, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I know you’re happy in your new life, with your pretty cheerleader wife and your money, not having to play with that mean guy Shanahan with his little golden boy quarterback, who isn’t half the guy you were. But since you haven’t actually turned in your retirement paperwork, maybe you could take one of Jon Gruden’s phone calls and come back to play. Even if it was just to be the backup, it would do me a lot of good to see you on the sidelines with your handsome moustache and a headset, calling in plays to Jeff Garcia even though you’re better than he is. Terrell Owens said he was gay. I don’t know if that’s true, but I know one thing for sure: you aren’t gay, Jake. No sir. You’re too much of a man to be gay, and I love that about you too.

You don’t have to write back to me. Returning to the game I loved watching you play would be response enough. Until then, enjoy your vacation and continue being great.

Sincerely, Your biggest fan, Jack Snake

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