Dear Brett Favre

Dear Brett Favre -

It’s me, Mat. I wanted to drop you a quick note, tell you I support your choices. I wanted to say, Don't Cry, Be Strong. It’s not easy having to leave something you love, and I guess now we both know how hard it can be to come back again.
It’s the same thing that happened to me when I retired from high school soccer my senior year. My family stood by me, just like yours, and I had a lot more time to focus on my homework. But the thrill of being prepared for calculus was nothing like the thrill of sprinting down the sideline. Every time I looked out at the fields between classes, it being my senior year and all, well I felt empty.
I didn’t quite leave the legacy that you left, let’s be honest. I played JV for three years, scoring only a handful of goals each season and I was often mildly injured. But like you, I played with pain, I laced up when even lacing up hurt. And when my senior year came around, and it was time to go, I got on that train and I left that station.
They offered me a severance to stay and to keep me involved in the organization. It wasn’t $20 million dollars over ten years, but being the equipment manager carries a lot of responsibility and I could still lace up for practice if I wanted to. Someone has to keep those soccer balls inflated, it’s an integral part of the game, but it wasn’t for me.
That’s why I support you standing your ground and leaving your retirement to play for a few more seasons. Sure you’ve already got a Hall of Fame bid locked down, you’ve got a legacy young players (and even some of the quarterbacks in the NFL currently) try to model their careers around. They grew up with you, we all have.
Plus that jet has to be expensive. I know how that goes too. I have a ‘95 Ford Explorer with 204k miles on it that turns heads whenever I pull it into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. I’m not trying to be flashy, but the car speaks for itself. It’s expensive to keep something like that up and running, especially with the gas so expensive and the miles per gallon on that dream-machine hovering around eleven. I have a friend who flies jets like yours, so I know what that’s all about. I could sit in one if I wanted to, but the front seat of my Explorer is where I’m most comfortable.
You and I, we’re both about being comfortable, Brett. You know what was uncomfortable? Trying to play soccer in college after taking a year off from it. I threw up on several other players, Brett, and while my hustle and never-say-die attitude was something that the coaching staff admired, my inability to actually play soccer was something we couldn’t, collectively, get past. I fell subject to fear, Brett. I was scared that I had left too soon and when I watched red gatorade and vomit come screaming out of my nose, my chest heaving and my legs like jelly - I knew that I’d never be able to come back to the sport.
But fear is helpful too, isn’t it? It’s one of those things that is both great and uncomfortable. Fear is what brought you back to the NFL, fear that you’d miss it too damn much. Fear is what took me away from soccer in high school too, the fear that if I wasted three months of life at age 17 that I’d never get laid. If your prospects with the New York Jets end up like my senior year in high school, I think we can both agree that following your heart is the best way to go. I’m glad to have you back. Good luck in New York.
It's New Jersey, actually huh? Well. Double the luck then, New Jersey’s kind of a crazy place to be in general.


All the best,
Mat Snapp