Pat: The Magazine for Guys

To Whom It May Concern: Reading the paper this morning, I couldn’t help but notice the Bears organization has let every single halfway decent free agent at the quarterback position go by without signing one to a contract. Therefore, I would like to announce my intention to apply for (and win) the second-string position.

The first reason I would make a great QB is because of my love of--and devotion to--the Bears, even though we are the fourth-worst team in the NFL. I never miss a game, whether I'm at the bar high-fiving homeless people, at my Bears club parties with Johnny K (who might make a good third-team candidate, based solely on the fact that two years ago, he was ejected from the Packers game at Lambeau Field for drunkenly cursing Kordell Stewart in front of children), or standing alone in my basement, eating three jalapeno poppers for each can of Old Style and screaming at the TV until the neighbors call the fire department. My affair with the Monsters of the Midway began at an early age with Superbowl XX and continued obsessively until some point in high school, when I considered myself an "artist" and thought of football as something for "jocks" that I was above. I realize now that I was just a huge pussy. After years of not caring, I was reborn as a fan in the year Y2K with the rise of Brian Urlacher and the fall of Cade McNown; I was held captive each Sunday that fall, watching in amazement at the myriad ways with which we could lose. Each game would start out promisingly enough with a tie score (0-0) and then spin out of control and fall apart. But enough autobiographical "wankery," let's take a look at my qualifications:

I have no experience playing organized football, but did participate in several no-pads, full-contact vacant field games with neighborhood kids in 6th grade and feel I held my own, as I was not once brought to tears (I have no emotions).

I have a big heart. This seemingly intangible quality, so desired in pro athletes, is a physical reality for me and results (according to my physician) from eating entire stuffed pizzas by myself on a regular basis.

I run the 40 in just under 15.5 seconds as well as a 10-minute mile, two of which can be done consecutively prior to nausea/dehydration/kidney failure.

I will not let the feeling of drowning in an ocean of failure affect my performance on the field. My only experience in team sports is in volleyball. I have been involved in a mere 7 victories in about 6 10-game seasons, so I understand the courage and confidence it takes to lose without being a loser.

I have the mental know-how of football strategy, as I am proficient in the John Madden '03 video-game and I DO NOT EVEN OWN A PLAYSTATION 2. Illustrious opponents I have defeated at one time or another include, but are not limited to: Jimmy Skullpuff, Richie Savage, Freddy Freaker, and Johnny K; the last two retired in frustration after I finally beat them, earning me the nickname, "Career Killer," which I gave myself. I also once got 11 Tetrises (making 4 rows of bricks disappear at once) in a row.

I have no qualms about taking steroids to maximize my potential because I've always wanted a cool, jutting brow-line like Triple-H from the WWE, and with balls as big as mine, a little shrinkage might not be a bad thing.

I have great eyesight thanks to my prescription glasses, this will stop me from throwing any interceptions. If my bespectacled appearance is not intimidating enough, I am willing to grow a goatee or maybe even get one of those popular "tribal" tattoos around my bicep, as long as the tribe is Aztec, Inca, or A Tribe Called Quest.

I estimate I'm down to about 30% body fat, or if we're talking fractions, 1/3 of my body is fat, mainly my stomach and cock*.

I'm not afraid to play in the cold; I'm like a feverish polar bear as a result of this case of Malaria I can't seem to shake. I would also take a couple shots of whiskey during our home-field January playoff games to put a little extra "fire" in my belly.

I am handsome and charming. My natural charisma will delight critics in the media and hopefully take the spotlight away from the team's poor play.

I've only had my driver's license since last summer, but studied David Terrell's press clippings and received several tickets shortly thereafter. I know how to get pulled over.

My only weakness would be my crippling stage fright. Would all the games have to be played outside in front of people? Also, I have a shoulder impingement (muscle tissue pinched between gliding bones) and positive neural tension in my throwing arm. One other thing would be that I suffer from frequent outbursts of uncontrolled violence stemming from feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness dating back to childhood, where I would constantly be losing my textbooks in school and therefore failed many classes and had no outlet for my aggression brought on by the scorn of my family and ridicule of my peers. This could actually be a boon, as I assume most of the berserker rages would be directed at members of the opposing team and their fans.

I will play for minimum wage, save for a 2.1 million signing bonus. My only other request is a personal cheerleading squad that only cheers for me and strip whenever I get sacked. I will also hold out until mid-season regardless of whether or not my demands are met. I also need twenty bucks, like yesterday.

I do not have Athlete's Foot, body lice, or any other communicable diseases, except for the aforementioned Malaria and Herpes. Maybe Herpes wasn't aforementioned.

I enjoy wearing tights and helmets in my personal life and rarely rash.

*I omitted the word "cock" when I sent this letter to the actual team.