*Clears Throat. Turns and presses play.*
Dearest Niner-D, et. al.,
Salutations! It has been quite some time since I penned you a letter. But it turns out that a local boy is coming home to see you. His name is Aaron Rodgers, some of you know him real well. Real well. Last year, he came around and torched what was left of you for four touchdowns. He threw for 305 yards on 25 attempts. He humiliated you. He and his 'pal' Davante Adams had a field day against you, the latter netting 173 yards over the course of ten receptions. But we have forgotten all of that haven't we? All anybody wants to talk about is how he wanted to come here and be your buddy. Well, he didn't come, did he? I don't give a damn what the reason was that prevented it from happening. What I care about and you care about is redemption. And I have one simple request for you.
Put him on his ass. Don't hurt him. We are above that. But if he is on the field, I want him counting blades of grass or imagining how much better he would be if he was with us. Be clear. He isn't.
Put him on his ass. Don't break him. You are above that. But when he is on the bench, I want him to think about last year and lament that what he achieved last time was a f**king fluke.
Put him on his ass. Don't wish ill on him. We are better than that. Wish him well as he sits in the opposing locker room wondering what it must be like to be on the other side where champions are being molded.
Put him on his ass. Don't forget to say goodbye to him as he and the 1-2 Pack leave Levi's. You are better than that.
And as he sits on the bus and rides his way out of town to the airport, where he'll catch that flight for home that really isn't his home anymore. You'll know, I'll know, and he'll know that he just got put on his ass by the team of his childhood a team destined to put a lot of folks on their ass this year as they reclaim that which is theirs.
Glory.
It is game day, motherf**kers.
I am Fropwns
[ Edited by fropwns on Sep 26, 2021 at 10:41 AM ]
