Letters from the edge
By Jordan Bell
In lieu of e-mail, letter writing sent
through the age-old process of mailing has all but disappeared.
In homage to pigeons and mail people (equality my friends),
we at The Gazette's sports department decided each week we would
send a letter to a worthy recipient.
Dear Donovan McNabb,
I can forgive you for hawking inferior, diarrhea-inducing soup
(ie. Chunky Soup, "the soup that eats like a dead raccoon
I can even forgive you for being a 26-year-old who still breast
feeds (everyone needs a sugar momma).
But I can't forgive you for your performance
during prime time on Monday Night Football against Jon 'Chucky'
Gruden and the reigning Super Bowl champion Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
I waited the entire summer, through a Major
League Basebore schedule, an Ontario-wide blackout (of which
left me questioning my dependence on MSN Messenger and Petite
Danon yogurt cups) and sweaty balls, just to witness Mr. McNabb,
the Eagles saviour, embarrass the Bucs with his fleet feet and
And what was I left with? Warren Sapp standing
on the field, arms outstretched and Gruden smiling like a frosh
after losing their virginity on O-Week.
The Gazette offered you our backing when
we chose your Eagles as the strongest team in the NFC. We looked
past your transgressions, including losing to the Bucs the last
Instead of wooing us, you went out and threw
for a paltry 148 yards and forgot to listen to Stifler's lacrosse
coach in American Pie when he said, "If you've gotta score,
you score." Tampa Bay 17 Philadelphia 0. Even I've scored
more than that, although I'm not sure if a photo dark room rendezvous
with The Gazette's inflatable woman counts.
I understand it's early in the season and
you're still trying to erase the rust from your Hawaiian vacation,
but the Bucs were the Western Mustangs' version of the Queen's
Golden Gaels. They smacked you around like Whitney Houston,
yet you still ceased to show them a little crack and a washed-up
rapper ain't gonna get you down.
Next: the New England Patriots. If I wasn't
so busy writing a letter to you, I would be carpet bombing Tom
Brady's house. Hopefully, the sight of Brady's hoes on the sidelines
will force your defense to buck up.
2003-04 was supposed to be the year for the
"City of Brotherly Love." I ask you, Where is the