Sing to me Muse, so that I may so sing,
Of a man who played with a broken wing.
Throughout his tenure, his time, if I may,
He made us scratch our heads, oft in dismay.
But unlike those whose face inspires bile,
There was something to him vaguely worthwhile.
Marrying his sweetheart long before June
He brought the playbook on his honeymoon.
Despite hostile Press and a gloomy coach.
Allow me Muse, this here subject to broach.
Speak of Chad Pennington this August morn;
Even the cynic feels slightly forlorn.
He came to us as QB's often will,
Fresh-faced, honest, young and modestly skilled.
Randy Moss said at Marshall U it seemed
Chad Pennington was the best he had seen.
Imagine Chad, mild mannered and clean
Throwing to that unstable philistine?
So disappointed from promises past,
We knew not to worry if Chad would last.
Hope is a terribly beautiful thing.
And we made it on Chad Pennington cling.
When he was good, he reached the playoff air.
When bad, it was like he wasn't quite there.
Without arrogance, or malice or greed,
Taking a pay-cut to support the team's need,
It's hard to have hard feelings for this man
Whom I admir'd as a miser'ble fan.
So I see his best works with happy thoughts,
And think on the happiness old Chad wrought.
Before there was a champion Peyton face,
Chad threw him a 41-zip disgrace.
Recall how that Jets squad they called "The Shrek"
Then bowed to Romanowski's steroid neck.
What commenced from there were highlights and lows
Hands dislocated, shoulders and elbows,
All subject to that one cold Hand of Fate
That has made Jets fans glumly ruminate.
I speak of Injury - she who felled Todd,
Namath, groin of Pat Ryan - this harsh god.
All our best promises blithely wiped 'way
Chad Pennington in an ex'bition game.
Against the Bills a torn rotator cuff
Made us think our season done enough.
Yet Chad snatched a win from playoff loss
In San Diego (oh, my cookies, tossed!)
And yards away from defeating the Steel,
Whom we humble little Jets had made squeal.
But lo! that rotator cuff din't quite mend.
And we figured Chad was finished by then.
So then Brooks Bollinger got the green light.
(This is why Jets fans are frustrated, right?)
Another coach, another outlook grim,
Chad Pennington got in there yet again.
And was the League's Comeback Player named
For at the least finishing every game.
In the playoffs he looked somber and weak,
Losing to Those Of Whom We Do Not Speak.
It was hard to see The Wheel turning clear
'Gainst Chad in another odd numbered year.
Look up years oh-three, oh-five, oh-seven
And against Chad are gathered the Heavens.
Bad luck, bad mojo, call it what thou will,
Last year Chad Pennington always seemed ill.
So the debate raged, yet many a fan
Saw that in training camp Chad was the man.
"His arm's too tir'd, he lacks the killer look."
"He's got the best knowledge of the playbook."
Whatever. Av'rages will tell a tale
Suggests that quarterbacks on average fail.
Our hero's career was now meant to run
To a place behind Kellen Clemens' gun.
But what came next I hardly suspected,
The Favre Saga my summer infected.
Expecting to see Gruden's stupid grin,
I see the short-lived Brett era begin.
So farewell Chad, you swim now with Fishes,
Far from the land of Lox and Knishes.
Actually, you could find plenty of them there,
Though I'm not sure they were ever your fare.
Do you bemoan saying goodbye to us,
With all of our angst and callous disgust?
We were so used to ourselves in the glass -
Arrogant ass beholds arrogant ass.
You were a Southern Gentleman compared
To the Jets fan, all mug and mullet-haired.
And now we meet you on opening day;
I will root against you, though I must say
We owe you at least this grateful adieu -
We will likely fare no better than you.