Dear Michael,
I'm going to cut right to the chase.
Being an Eagles fan has never been easy. And you showing up has just made it that much harder.
See, Philadelphia sports fans have a reputation for being... shall we say... overly tough on our teams, the opposing teams, the opposing fans and anyone dumb enough to tick us off while they're in the process of being tough on the aforementioned groups. We're loud, we're passionate, we're, at times, overly boisterous, and we truly do not care what the rest of the sports world thinks about us.
And now we're fans of the team that brought you back into the NFL. Which might change that 'we don't care what the rest of the sports world thinks about us' bit.
When I first heard that you'd signed with the Eagles on Thursday night, my immediate reaction was, "WHAT?! This doesn't make any sense!" After four days of reflection, that's still sort of my reaction. Everybody immediately said "Wildcat!" as the news started spreading, but we ran the Wildcat last year sporadically and without you. We had DeSean Jackson in the backfield slot. We can do Wildcat stuff with Donovan. We don't need you to do that.
Look, from a football standpoint, there's a non-zero chance that this won't even work. You haven't played in two years. You're not in football shape. You play the most difficult and demanding position on the field. You're doing it in a system that may be the worst possible fit for your skill set and it happens to also be a system you haven't had a whole lot of statistical success in.
And frankly, Mike, if you were looking for a place where you could get a lot of playing time and fast-track your playing career, this wasn't it. There are other teams out there that didn't dismiss the possibility of bringing you in even if they didn't come out and say they were interested. There were some teams that, frankly, you'd be a massive upgrade at the quarterback position if you'd joined them. And, of course, there was always the fledgling UFL, where you were guaranteed a spot and would easily be the biggest name on their marquee. Here, you're a backup. A situational guy at best. And if you ever become more than that while you're here, then something's gone horribly wrong and you're going to be under more pressure than you've ever faced on a football field.
Oh, and if all that wasn't enough, there's also the elephant in the room known as your dogfighting conviction.
I'm about to tell you something that I'm sure you know by now: People love dogs. Dogs and horses are the world's favorite animals; I've always believed that. I grew up with three dogs; more than half my life has been spent with a dog in the household.
The things you did were horrific, Mike. I don't need to rehash the sordid details for the 2,513,467th time because I'm going to be sick. But ultimately, you didn't get away with it. You spent 18 months in jail, some of that in Leavenworth, one of the few prisons in the world that's known by its name. You spent five more months in federal custody at a halfway house. While that was going on, you lost your multi-million dollar contract and all of your corporate endorsement deals. You had to pay for the rehabilitation of the dogs they were able to rescue, and not all of them came out the other side. You had to file for bankruptcy. Your personal reputation was left in shambles.
You finished out your sentence. You're back out in society and you have the right to provide for yourself and your family and loved ones.
I'm willing to accept that, Mike. But not everyone is, or ever will be.
See, when you think of all the bad things that have happened in the sports world - cheating scandals, drunk driving fatalities, assaults, attempted murders, actual murders - I'm only slightly surprised that there's so much outrage over what you did.
Part of it is because there's really nothing that we can compare this to.
And part of it is because you're a professional athlete who made a lot of money.
The harsh truth is that if you were a mortgage broker or a commercial fisherman or drove a UPS truck, I wouldn't be writing this letter because nobody would know who you were or that this had even happened. But the fact is you're a professional athlete who was in the spotlight and you decided to throw away two years of your life and over $100 million in contract money and endorsements over this foolishness.
It just doesn't make sense. Even to the people who are willing to forgive and/or forget.
People are rooting against you, Mike. Don't ever think otherwise. There are people out there who don't believe you should get another chance to succeed. There are people out there who want to see you fail on the field. There are people out there who don't think you can stay on the straight and narrow off the field. Even the people who aren't actively against you will be watching you at all times. You will be held accountable not only by Eagles fans, but the media, the Humane Society and the SPCA among numerous others. Believe me when I tell you that your margin for error is slimmer than the thinnest piece of sashimi at Morimoto. Sliced in half again.
It's not all gloom and doom. Remember earlier when I said that I thought you were redeemable? It doesn't really matter whether I think that or not. The good news for you is that I'm not the only one. For the first time in what I feel like is a long time, you've got people in your corner who are actually going to look out for your best interests, set a good example, and teach you some of the things about responsibility and integrity that you should have learned a long time ago but didn't. They've put their necks on the line for you here, and I honestly believe that if you're serious about being a force for positive change, of helping spread awareness and discouraging people from dogfighting, that'll get you bigger cheers than any 80-yard pass you throw or any 60-yard run you break. It should, at least.
Here's the rub, though: None of those people are going to determine whether this works or not. There's only one person who controls that.
That person would be you, Michael Vick.
Good luck. You're going to need it.
Sincerely,
Matthew Spaulding
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