You know I love you like crazy. I have loved you for a good, long while now, in fact. Which is why I feel like we need to have a talk about your current state of complete insanity.
Honey, what are you doing? You retired in March. It was graceful and gracious. It was beautifully timed. The way you got a little weepy about leaving the NFL? Priceless. We will all remember you as the Packers’ Best Quarterback Ever, that unfortunate time in Atlanta notwithstanding. It was, after all, just your rookie season.
Well, that’s how we would have remembered you if you hadn’t lost your freaking mind. The Jets, Brett? Really? Now you’re like Joe Montana. (Becky, I know you love Joe, but outside of Chiefs’ fans, does anyone remember him as the Chiefs’ quarterback? No. Also? Don’t hit me.) Or maybe Michael Jordan. (That time with the Wizards? God help us all.) Or Mark Martin. (Sorry, DEI fans, but I had to say it.) You’re the guy who doesn’t know when to stop. freaking. playing. because you’re still good enough to stay in the pros.
But as I’ve oft opined – the fact that you can doesn’t mean you should. Please, for the love of all of us who love you so dearly, hang it up. Spend some time with Deanna. Teach Brittany how to spot a jerk. Help Breleigh build a treehouse. Whatever. Just don’t be a dumbass and play football for the Jets. (No offense to the Jets.)
Since it’s too late for you to make another graceful exit, just make a damn exit. Please?
Oh-so-sincerely,
Peyton Manning’s new #1 fan (Again, Becky, don’t hit me.)


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