Dear John,
It's been a great ride these two score
and two years past, but John, can we talk?
Aren't things just a little out of control?
Hasn't the idol image, the great American
hero persona, taken us over the edge?
As a fan, John, it is difficult for me to
say this, but will you please move on? Can
we look today and not see your mug
grinning us to death? Can we not be
reminded of your "greatness" every time
we pick up a newspaper or turn on the
tube.
Fifteen minutes, John. That's what you
got. Your last 15 minutes, or so I thought.
Monday Night Football's Al Michaels
gushed with such insignificance that his
blubbering and babbling was not just
sappy, it was just plain embarrassing.
The media's scuttle was, of course,
about you, John. The Elway-less Bronco
stories were dry, dull, and seeming to
annoy, not only Bronco fans, but the entire
nation. We couldn't escape it.
You had center stage on prime time
television - millions watching - wasn't that
enough?
Think of all the other great players
gone before. Never, not in my memory, has
any one player received the royal treatment
we saw bestowed upon you.
Why didn't Ray Nitschke have his 15
minutes? How about Deacon Jones? Walter
Payton? I don't ever remember national
television broadcasting their retirement day
at the ball park.
Couldn't you just fade away? Go back
to the dealership or the insurance agency
or, hey, how about coaching a pee-wee
football team?
C'mon John, do it for us fans - The
fans who enjoyed your career, but could
care less what kind of beer you drink.
Take that mountain fresh barley pop,
settle in with the family, and enjoy life.
Please?
We love our heroes, but, please, don't
hang around too long. Professional football
fans are programmed to focus on the here
and now, the what-can-you-do-for-me?
credo.
Synonymous with football are new
heroes, new stars, big money, and big
business. The new millennium is sure to
bring us a new game.
People experience the fix from sports,
and because the need for speed and greed
is so strong, the rich and powerful
ownerships and young, highly talented
athletes represented by agents, have forced
the game to the bottom line. This power
structure has been emerging for decades.
Now it is here without reason to believe it's
going anywhere.
You don't fit in, John. You're old
school. Time for others. In five years, we'll
be saying the same thing to Brett Favre.
Hello, Peyton Manning. Goodbye,
John. Hello, Warren Sapp. Goodbye, John.
Hello, Mike Mckenzie. GoodBYE, Johhhn. Hello, Randy Moss. GOODBYE, Johhhhn. John? Are you still there? Really, John. Please? Don't make this difficult.