This is a moment I’ve been secretly dreading for years, that sad day when I step away from the computer and say, “Enough.”
After 27 years, this job has finally gotten to me. It’s not one thing, but a steady, demoralizing drip of misery and woe. Certainly, the constant harassment from Bills and Sabres fans who confuse reasoned criticism with negativity has sapped my spirit.
The pressure of being a TV star, and dealing with Bucky, has added to the burden. The need to produce witty Mailbags has become unbearable. The Twitter ghouls who beg me to quit and go back to New England (lately, they’ve taken to questioning the size of my hands) have beaten me down.
So I’ve decided to retire while my soul is still intact. Don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll have more time to drink with Rex Carr. Melinda and I can open our pie restaurant. I might even consider running for political office or entering the odd PGA Senior Tour qualifier.
Retire? Come on. Even the biggest fool wouldn’t fall for that one.