OK, Rexy, you’ve done it. The Bears are back in the big game. You carried your team to the Super Bowl, or rather, they carried you through emotional issues, drinking binges, lack of preparation, and lack of skill. But you’re not T.O. You didn’t give up and take a few too many supplements to escape much berating from the Chicago media. So now, with two weeks to go, we would like to give you the fatherly advice that we think Brian Greise has never given you.
The game won’t be about Peyton. You will be going up against the only intelligent white person in Indianapolis (his intelligence in the pocket and the advertising world are on par with that of Donald Trump). But remember, he can never make up for the fact that he’s a giant twat. You’ve seen the Gatorade commercials, Rex, and you know that any man who emerges from a plastic womb at the age of 30 really is no man at all. This game is all yours (just like all those bottles of Stolichnaya). Take the reins, and win one for the home team. Awake the sleeping giant that is your passion for the game, and enter the clash of the titans knowing that you might, for once, not be the most despised quarterback on the field.
And when the coaches continually call for running plays because of their immense fear that you will throw a pick on every pass, just remember that they are in charge. We don’t doubt your knowledge of the game nearly as much as the accuracy of your arms. Nonetheless, have faith in yourself, Oedipus Rex.
Remember, it’s only football. This isn’t ’Nam. For many, the world will continue no matter the outcome. You will be Sexy Rexy—the sex cannon, lover of women, girly drinks, and five o’clock shadows. And while we know that you will continue to be these things, most people will deem you incompetent whether you win or lose. So for the next two weeks, keep your calm. We don’t want you to overtax that amazing mind of yours. And be careful to protect your arm, because you'll need it to defend yourself from the 12-year-old fans of the losing team.