I ain’t gotta tell ya that you’re awesome. Any overpaid analyst still chasing Brett Favre with a microphone can attest to the way you own a football field. Nobody has to remind you that you rank in the league with other legen(wait for it…)dary quarterbacks like Ken Stabler, Kurt Warner, Dan Marino, and–grudgingly–Tom Brady. You’re a smart boy; you can read the stats just as well as any of us can.
Statistics don’t tell the whole story, though. What you’ve done for the Saints, for New Orleans, for Louisiana, and for the Gulf Coast is beyond measure. How does one capture pride with a number? Ya see, the problem with statistics is they don’t account for character. The coveted Cover of Madden isn’t awarded for grace, integrity, humility, or for failing to get caught testing the law. A shiny trophy says nothing about your foundation, and how it has gone beyond its mission statement to partner with other organizations to improve lives.
And stats don’t show heart. They can’t portray inspiration. Numbers can’t tell the world how you make Who Dats feel. We really try to fall in love with the team–not the players–but dammit, Brees, you’re really making it difficult.
You’ve probably noticed that Who Dats are a devastatingly loyal bunch of lunatics. We love the Saints, and you are the cherry on top. You came to us in our darkest hours, after one of the saddest times of our lives, and you gave us something no FEMA trailer, no lip service, and no fundraiser could provide: hope. Call it impeccable timing, or call it fate: you were a radiant beacon in the midnight fog. We don’t just love you for what you do on the gridiron. You’re a good frickin’ guy.
Let’s just lay it all out there, shall we? If you were twice the football player you are now, but instead of behaving yourself you were actin’ a fool and being some pompous, arrogant assclown with lots of money, we probably wouldn’t like you as much. We’d be like, ‘So uh, that’s our quarterback in the squad car. He’s a real member, but he’s got a hell of a right cannon when it’s not cuffed to his left one. Yay…Go Sain….[*paper bag*].’
You’re so nice I almost can’t stand it. Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard the slurred meathead argument, “Character doesn’t win championships! [*slogs beer* *wipes drool*]” But it doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re humble in your fame, generous in your praise, calm in your frustration, and gracious in your time to the community. I have never seen you behave like a certain tempermental coach with the attitude of someone who is always rolling the crimson tide, if you catch my drift.
As the old saying goes, if you love something, let it go. We understand one day you’ll have to move on from New Orleans, but you’ll never leave New Orleans, and New Orleans will never leave you. My point is this: you made our 43-year-long dream a reality. At the least, we owe you a farewell parade Who Dattin’ and high-steppin’ down Canal Street. Wherever life takes you after the Saints, we believe you would be a gift to everyone who knows you.
and celebrity, you chose to share the moment with your son. Collectively, we said, “Aww, sha.”
But for the love of hot boudin and cold cous cous, we just can’t turn ya loose yet! I think I speak on behalf of all da Who Dats when I say you deserve a Saints contract in the league of your peers. We’d love for you to retire in New Orleans, water your Uptown lawn in a black and gold jersey, and occasionally pass a sammich or two at your Jimmy Johns. The big wigs betta reconnize a good thing when they see it (if they don’t, I’ll have an Open Letter for them, too). You’ll always be our saint, and we adore everything you’ve done for the city. The Saints were our diversion from the flood waters and continue to be a point of pride, hope, and joy for all Saints Fans. Thanks, bro.
Sincerely,
Lacey Pyle