Matt Patricia seeks his old job.
I never got an answer from my last letter. I hope you got it.
I made a mistake Bill.
Can I come back.
Things aren’t going well here at all. I don’t want to stay. I’ll whatever you want. I’ll cut all the sleeves off your hoodies. I’ll erase all the tapes myself. I’ll buy cases of Tom’s fancy water. I’ll teach Gronk to read. Anything.
I can’t take it anymore.
No one listens to me. I tried to be tough and make us practice in the snow. I wore shorts an everything. The players said I looked like a homeless Santa Claus.
I think the mascot laughs at me behind my back. I can’t prove it.
I don’t think Mrs. Ford knows who I am. The other day she asked me what I thought of the new coach. I just mumbled something about him having great posture and walked away.
Don’t get me started on Stafford. I don’t know what to do Bill. I scratch him behind the ears and tell him he’s a good boy, but I can’t get him to listen to me. The other day I tried to get him to stop playing with his Tonka trunks and read his playbook. I finally got him back inside by laying down a trail of M and M’s.
In the quarterback’s room, I wanted him to draw up one of the new plays on the board. He ended up just playing tic tac toe, in which he lost. In a game. By himself.
We have to call them playbinders because he’s scared of the word ‘book.’ Anytime he hears it he pulls his shirt over his head and starts yelling “Letters make Matty’s head hurt.”
Just tell me what I need to do Bill. Is it because I won when we played. I don’t know how that happened.
I hope you get my letter.