Dear Panthers, I quit you.

This relationship has become too much for me to handle. *sniffling* I simply don't trust you anymore.
Every week, I tune into the game with the best of intentions. I sit there with my chips and Kool-Aid waiting for kick off. It always starts well. Then before I know it, it's the second half and you turn into a Pop Warner team - a bad one. I'm always so happy until the middle of the third quarter. That's when the tears start.
I can't keep going to work every Monday with puffy eyes telling my co-workers I "fell." Something tells me they've stopped believing me. I just don't see where we went wrong.
We've been together since '97. That's a long time. We've been through so much together: making the playoffs our inaugural year. The NFC Championship. The Super Bowl the same year as NippleGate. Those were fun times.
But just as there have been good times, there have been horrible ones too. The 4-12 season in the Dom Capers era. Rae Carruth's terrible game of Hide n' Seek. Losing Fred Lane to a crazy ass wife. And now, Jake "Mr. Bojangles" Delhomme's pick throwing ass and John Fox's unwillingness to bench him.
At the moment, we are currently 4-6. Delhomme has thrown 14 interceptions. Explain to me how we have a Pro Bowl wide receiver in Steve Smith and two Pro Bowl-worthy running backs in D'Angelo Williams and Jonathan Stewart, yet, we are still 4-6.
I can't handle this abuse anymore. Every time I threaten to walk away, you always straighten up and win a game or two. And as soon as I get comfortable, something goes awry. I mean, what can I do better? Am I not cheering loud enough? Could I have said something?
This just isn't working for me anymore. Until we can get some consistency, bench Delhomme and get rid of Foxy, I'm afraid we're done. I'm tapping out for the season. I still love you, but I can't be with you anymore. I'm drained - emotionally. I'm gonna get some help. You should too. For next season, I mean. In the form of Michael Vick.
I think he (and a new offensive coordinator) could really revamp the team. But right now, we need a break. This isn't goodbye. It's just, so long. You know, for the season. It just might be really awkward if I hang around this year, y'know, since my heart's not in it. Tell the guys it's not their fault. Well, not all of 'em. I put the blame square on Mr. Bojangles and the offensive line for not protecting him better.
We'll see each other again - soon. I mean, next year's not too far away. In the mean time, you might hear something about me cheering for the Colts. Don't listen to that. It's just a rumor. You know how people "talk." I don't really love them. But I don't like you very much right now and I need a way to spend my Sundays. They seem to have room on the bandwagon and I plan to ride it all the way to the Big Game.
Don't feel bad, I simply can't watch you anymore this season. I hope you understand. I wish you well.

Love,

Smarty.