Dearest Martin,

So sorry to hear of your recent follies.  I know you had the best of intentions but sometimes these things happen.  Chin up  my good man, like they always say, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.  I know you’ll be making lemonade out of life’s lemons in no time.  Its in these moments where we need to rely on our friends to get us through.  Lean on your teammates my friend.  Im sure Charles Grant and Drew Brees will look past the fact that they killed themselves for 60 minutes only to have you shank one in the waning minutes.   No really, why even bring up that you alone caused the momentum to swing last night, what with your ground hugging kick in the first quarter that a midget could have easily blocked with his little Vienna sausage fingers and taken to the house, let alone a fully grown NFL cornerback.  Surely they won’t even bother mentioning that this is the second time in 3 weeks that you have had a game winning kick in front of you, only to completely shit the bed.  Im sure management and the coaches will be completely understanding of your plight and give you another opportunity to cripple their season.  No seriously, don’t worry about it, Im sure it’ll be fine asshole.

On second thought…

Pack your bags you greasy haired, over celebrating, game winning kick missing, team spirit breaking ass clown.  You will not ruin another Saints game for me so help me God.  They could easily be 4-1 if not for your failures at the one thing that makes your measly little existence relevant.  Morten Anderson may be older than dirt and have questionable sexual preferences but at least that tub of goo never missed when it counted…and they all count Martin.  

Good Luck and Godspeed.

Yours Truly,

Bunkie Perkins

PS.  When Sean Payton cuts you today, remind him that, late in the game, throwing incomplete passes stops the clock and gives the other team more time to take the ball down the field, running the ball, however, does not.  Thanks.