A long time ago, in a league far,far, away........
There was a team that struck gold. In fact, it was their main color for their uniforms. In a trade with a team from the South, this Republic garnered themselves a new leader. A bright eyed, bushey tailed, gun slinger who harkened thoughts back to days of yore. When their former leader threw laser passes all over the state and gained this little Republic National recognition. Led by a future thinker who the entire Galaxy would turn from a mere mortal into a God.
The brash gun slinger started slowly, then continued to progress. His unnerving consistancy of throwing into double and triple team coverage was mocked aloud by the so called "Galactic Experts". Yet, the errant decisions continued to pay off, because of surprise and speed. As one after another met the hands of their inteteded target. The gun slinger became the talk of the republic and eventually the entire galaxy!
The "Galactic Experts" reversed their thought process and crowned this young master as the new King of the Signal calling Jedi! He eventually proved them correct in their thinking as he guided the smallest Republic to the pinnacle of the on-going War as the Champions of the Galaxy! (Even though the real hero was a decrepit old runner who for 1 game, gave everything he had and put the Gunslinger in position to attain the glory.)
Yet, that mattered not. The Republic's Great Jedi had masterfully conquered all! Long live this new leader. The cheers of his victories rained constantly from mountain to plain as he lead his group of Suicide teamates to the land of Conference trials. Yet, something strange began to happen to the hero. His smile was becoming more and more of a mask; as his words cut down his teammates and even the Republic that gave him his powers. The errant throws came more often, although now, they were only finding empty space or were even intercepted on the way to its target. His Suicide Teammates tried to come to his aid, even as he ripped them to shreds with his forked tongue.
He was so devastated that he even admitted a flaw that made him all to human. An addiction to a magic pill that made all his war wounds feel better. The Galaxy rejoiced as the Jedi became mortal, just like one of them. Yet.......the Jedi was growing ever darker, ever more sinister in his demeaner.
The Little Republic, fearing that the Great Master might leave, looked to a distant planet to find a suitable student for the Master, in another galaxy called "The Draft". Luck was once again on their side. They came away with another bright young phenom. Some thought, with a little grooming from The Master, he too might lead the Republic back to the promised land. However, no one took into account the Master's temper and Ego. He flat refused to have anything to do with the young gun, fearing that he would one day take his throne. And everyone in the Galaxy would find out his other terrible addiction.......
So Great was his rankor, the Master, held the tiny Republic hostage. Saying he wouldn't lead them into war any longer unless his demands were met. Holding on to the one thing the Republic had in short supply....time. Finally the Master capitulated from his stance, and all was forgiven; at least on the surface. Behind the scenes, the Master waited, and plotted his escape from the Republic that spawned him. then....lightning in a bottle. A sly grin eased across his face. He would tell the Galaxy and the Republic, he had tired of war and would leave the fields of battle forever! All of his worshipers fell to their knees and wept openly as their hero walked into the sunset...never to be heard again.
The Galaxy moved forward without stopping. The Young gun was given the keys to the Republic with heavy, yet hopeful hearts attached. Just when the galaxy wars were to begin anew.....The old Master returned! Saying he still missed the fight too much to walk away. He needed to come back, and reclaim what he felt was rightfully his. At first, the little Republic was happy, yet, upon further review, they balked at the worn hero's sincerity. Besides, they had already hinged their hope to the young gun in waiting, as he had shown enough guile and smarts to lead the Republic anew. The Master was outraged! How dare this young, pathetic gun imagine he was the Master's equal! Haden't he left him to wither and die on the vine of obscurity? Something must be done to save face!
The Master demands the Republic allow him to move his base to the close moon called Minnesota. The Republic refuses, as the Minnesotans aren't just too close fro comfort.....they have also been staunch enemies for eternity. The rift became so violent that the God of the Galaxy (affectionatlely named The Commissioner) had to step in and seperate the two, before it tore assunder the entire Universe. Thusly, he made a truce between the warring parties. The Republic couldn't hold the Master indefinately, and the Master couldn't go to Minnesota.
Into the fray steps a large group of native warriors from the East; named New Yorkers. They currently had 2 field battalions in their sphere. One of which had faced eons of humiliating defeat. So to that battalion, the Master ventured. All was well in the Galaxy as the New Yorkers welcomed the old veteran Master with open arms. The Master sneered, (almost smiling) at them promising a new day had arrived. At the beginning of the new wars, the Master, almost looked like his old self. But, not quite ready. Everyone attributed this to rust from lack of on-field combat. Time passed and the Master got his legs back. Again the errant throws found their mark. The New York Battalion looked unstoppable, as the wisened Master carved his likeness into the team. Yet, tragidy struck. The Maser's body wasn't as willing as his mind. It was failing him and he couldn't allow the rest of his followers to see his weaknesses. So onward and forward he pushed. Making mistake after mistake, until the land of Conference was out of reach. Even his most staunch followers, began to leave him. Finally the wars had ended and the Battalion limped off to once again lick their wounds from a disappointing showing.
The Master once again, hatched a plan to remove himself from the fray. He would again cry and bemoan his inability to compete on the battle field and walk away. Again, the faithful wailed in angwish as their leader abandoned them to the fates, thinking he had left complete wreakage and carnage behind. Unfortunatley, these New Yorkers, were used to being left in the lurch. They schemed a perfect scheme and withdrew from the ranks of the other Galaxy "The Draft", a most promising Signal Jedi. One that the rest of the Galaxy coveted. Younger, more handsome, and chisled from the Signal caller Masters of the Universe called USC. The New Yorkers danced in the streets! waiting with baited breath the new wars to begin.
The Master cursed! His plan to destroy yet another republic was foiled by a forward thinking council, and the lack of attention of the populace. Didn't they realize HE had walked away from THEM? What imputance to celebrate the crowning of another leader when they should mourn his passing! Blasphemy!
"AH HA!", said the Master. While they look at their new cherubic Jedi, I can sneak in the back way to Minnesota. So far, the plan has worked. The New Yorkers were all but too willing to allow the Master to leave. He then conversed with the new head of the Minnesotans named Childress. Who was excited at being reunited with his former pupil. Before the plan could be hatched to fruition......the ever present "winds of the News" gathered the clandestine information about the pending merger. The Master had to spin fast. Sayiong to one wind: " No....I am happy to be away from the battles. My family and dogs keep me occupied." (Smile, Smile) The other winds' inquiries gather info saying that it is only a matter of time before the Master guides the Purple Warriors onto the field of battle.
In essence, I write this story to say this.......I am SICK OF BRETT FAVRE AND HIS ADDICTION TO ATTENTION! Why do we allow ourselves to be besieged with this pathetic soap opera year after year. Either retire, and stay there......or get on the field and die as a man! don't continue to tell us....the populace of the Universe, that you no longer can stand the pain. Stop ripping our memories of your glory days to shreds by insulting our intelligence! Allow the younger generation to take over already. Yes, retirment can be tedious, even (dare I say....BORING!) Especially for one who has been worshipped so vehemently. Do you think you are the first Master to ever feel fear of the unknown of retirement? History has been littered with the feats of many more than you. Some batter, some worse. But all have left themselves and their glory days behind to enjoy a life without battle. Many have been to the promised land and set up property. Other have honly looked at it from afar. Yet, they mourn not for those days of yester-them, and yester-glory. They are happy to be away from the trials of trying to attain immortality through battle.
What else do you need to satiate your hunger? You have the all important "Ring". And possess practically every meaningful stat a QB could ask for. Are you so bereft of life inside your sphere of influence, that you must pollute what used to be yours, simply for the thrill? What is your motivation?
It can't be money. You don't seem to enjoy the high life that money brings.
It can't be glory. there are entire tomes written to your honor. A place amongst the Gods awaits you a short time from now.
It can't be youth. For everything that draws breath; eventually withers and dies away.
The only option left...is revenge. If in fact this is the truth, that you want revenge against your old Republic......Spare us. It is a concept you can't fathom. A battle that you can't win. and a war, those you choose to align yourself with, aren't prepared for. Let the hands of time, and the fates control the future of this new Galaxy. One that still worships your drive, your former victories, and your accomplishments. Instead, we will all marvel, at how a demi-god falls so short of true immortality by allowing the basest of human failties to destroy your legacy........Jealousy.
This is a FanPost and does not necessarily reflect the views of Niners Nation's writers or editors. It does reflect the views of this particular fan though, which is as important as the views of Niners Nation's writers or editors.