A Letter to Tom Brady, Quarterback of the New England Patriots

Dear Tom Brady,

I am a twelve year-old boy from Lafayette, Indiana. I am writing this letter to you from my hospital room, where I stay all day because I have lung cancer. I was left at an orphanage soon after being born, so I've never met my mother. (Neither have I met my father.) Doctors tell me that my lung cancer comes from all the cigarettes that the mother I've never known smoked while I grew - unwanted, apparently - in her womb. I don't blame my mom for not wanting me, though. Or for poisoning my lungs before they got a chance to be used in the real world. Everybody makes mistakes, right? Also I have AIDS.

Things are real rough for me, Mr. Brady, but one of the things that keeps me going is rooting for my favorite football team, the Indianapolis Colts. I watch them every Sunday from the beginning of September to usually the first or second weekend in January. My favorite player is Peyton Manning, who must be the greatest quarterback of all time because his statistics are so good. I have never met Peyton Manning, but lots of people say that he is really smart and hilarious and lots of supermodels are jealous that he's married.

I think that you're a real good quarterback too, Mr. Brady. In fact, even though you don't have as many touchdowns or passing yards as Peyton Manning, I think you're one of the best quarterbacks of all time. Winning three Superbowls in four years makes you a legend, Mr. Brady. And that means that you only place your legacy has to go is down. What's one more Superbowl? Is four that much better than three? Winning another one can't make you a bigger legend than you already are; but losing a playoff game will only make people say, "Hmm, well Tom Brady isn't all that great, is he?"

I don't think anybody wants this, Mr. Brady. You don't want it; Patriots fans don't want it; I don't want it; surely that handsome, statistical marvel Peyton Manning doesn't want it to happen. That's why I think you should retire, Mr. Brady. Tomorrow. Before the game against the Colts. Take it from me, a little boy from Indiana who has cancer and AIDS: Life is short. If you keep your legacy intact by retiring tomorrow, then you can overcome life's brevity - you will be immortal.

I'm not interested in being immortal, myself. (Who would want to live forever with cancer? Or AIDS? And in my case, both?) But maybe that Peyton Manning could be immortal with you if he wins a Superbowl this year. Wouldn't that be great! Later in life, the two of you could reminisce about your Superbowl victories in Peyton's backyard in New Orleans with the football-shaped pool and twin hammocks. Peyton's lovely wife would even bring the two of you sweet tea and her patented "Victory Ribs", the dish she makes for Peyton whenever he wins a football game. (And also after losses to cheer him up.)

I get so excited when I think that you and Peyton Manning might be Superbowl buddies after this year. I know you two would be such great friends. And I'd sure like to see my favorite team and my favorite player win a Superbowl before I die, which the doctors here tell me will probably happen in about a month and a half.

Please retire.

Sincerely,
Little Boy

P.S. If you do retire, I have good word that Peyton Manning would gladly share half of his lucrative promotional earnings with you. That'll buy a lot of lobster. (Please, please retire.)