New England Patriots personnel received a disturbingly angry email addressed to coach Bill Belichick that was sent to the Foxboro offices early Monday morning in the wake of the team’s 35-34 loss to the Indianapolis Colts on Sunday night.
I am so mad at you that I cannot contain myself from pooping and peeing myself, repeatedly. I am beside myself with rage. Who in the world do you think you are? Your horrendous decision making has ruined my life and I despise your very existence. Had your Wikipedia page not been locked for editing, I would have created an account simply to embellish horrific stories about you in your biography section.
Don’t you have any clue about the impact of your decisions? Have you absolutely no respect for reason and rationality? An entire region of loyal, goodhearted fans is confused and dumbfounded by your stupidity. You intended to defy steep odds with your own foolish whims and hunches. Look, now, where it has gotten you.
There’s a reason why statisticians are employed by every professional sports team except the Kansas City Royals. There is a set cadence to this world and you gosh darn better follow it. Without a set order of things, nothing would matter. Anarchy would rule and everyone would just do whatever the heck they felt at any particular moment. That’s not how the world works. YOU ALWAYS PUNT THE BALL ON FOURTH DOWN AND TWO FROM YOUR OWN 28 YARD LINE!!!
You punt that ball, Bill. You punt it. That’s the way NFL coaches have been doing it for years. And that’s the way they’ll continue to do it. That late in the game, Bill, what the players do is insignificant. It’s what you do as a coach to ensure they win the game in the consistent, conventional way that they’re used to.
I can’t even believe we’re having this discussion. I hate yelling at the TV. I really do. I’ll never understand it. Never. I am a god-fearing Christian man with love in my heart and tenderness in my soul, but I will never forgive you for this unnecessary pain and anguish. These games mean something. Winning against a hated rival matters. It matters!
It will be days before I can even think about leaving my house. All I can do now is curl up in my bed, eat my grits and try to forget it all. Perhaps by Wednesday, I will stop shaking with anger. Don’t bother giving us a bunch of convoluted percentages and witchcrafty mathematical formulas. You made the wrong decision and now you have to live with it.
– Grady Little