Reds, please sit down, we need to talk.
I think you know what this is about – it’s been coming for a while now.
I got your email about renewing my membership. Thanks, but I think I want out. I guess you’ll agree – we’ve been heading in different directions for a while now.
Me, well, I’ve been trying to move forward. I’ve ditched the Ralph Lauren polo, burned my school tie, and have kicked off my boat shoes.
I quaffed my last pinot gris this morning, then cancelled my Foxtel.
I call it personal growth.
I’m sorry Reds. But it’s not me, it’s you. I’ve stood by you through thick and thin – the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. But last year was the final straw.
You were belted by the Sunwolves, and lost twice to the Tahs. You’re play ranged from listless to inept. I turned up to every game, but I’m not sure that you did.
You’ve lacked spark for a while now. And with “to be announced” in the halves it’s not getting any better.
First you boned Will Genia, then Nick Frisby, and now Quade Cooper. But please don’t get me started on Quade. Love him or loathe him, he sure is unique. If nothing else, he was the only Kiwi in south Brisbane without a scaffolder’s ticket last year.
And who knows where you’re headed? You’re a walking contradiction. You focus on defence, then leak a record number of points.
Crowds are at an all-time low, but beer prices keep rocketing skyward. It’s time to reconnect with the fans, you say – sure, then why charge us to watch a suburban trial game?
The best seats at Suncorp are even out-of-bounds, and the game-day experience has bordered on absurd. If you tolerate loud dance music and flame throwers, then your children will be next.
Membership is a steal at just two hundred and fifty bucks, you reckon. But wait, there’s more, you’ll even throw in an inflatable finger.
Umm thanks, I guess. After twenty years of loyalty, I still trust it’s the middle one…