Dear Keyshawn,

           I'm sorry that you are so obsessively jealous of Terrell Owens. I'm sorry the Cowboys let you go, then immediately signed him, but hey, he's one of the best in the game and you were gettin up there in the years. Oh wait, you guys are the same age. Anyway....I'm sorry that you never had the guts or the drive to put yourself through the borderline psychotic training Terrell Owens puts himself through that allows him to get better with age. I'm sorry that of the legendary 1996 wide receiver class that included yourself, Owens, Terry Glenn, Marvin Harrisson, Mushin Muhammad, Eric Moulds, Joe Horn, and others, you were drafted first but rank near the middle of the pack in production. I'm sorry that not even your daddy Bill Parcells invited you to camp this year.

          Look at it this way though Key, at least you can fall back on your character, which you constantly remind us is so much better than Terrell Owens. You are truly a man of your word, Key. When you were a rookie, you said that you were going to play 10 years, and then get out before the game took more from you, than you were able to take from it. Like the man you are, you kept your word. Year after year, you put in countless hours of lying around on the beach, and running your mouth, staying in marginal shape, just good enough to survive the year. You put in 11 years of average effort, and now you can hang your hat on your slightly average career you former 1st overall pick you.

         We'll always have memories right? Like the time when you wrote that book called Just Give Me the Damn Ball. And boy did the Jets ever oblige your request....106 times... and you got in the paint.......ONCE.  You threw blue collar hero Wayne Chrebet under the bus, and did enough for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers to pay you to stay home. But I know, I know, you are God and Terrell Owens is the Anti-Christ. I keep forgetting.

         I guess what I'm trying to say is look at yourself in the mirror. Take your shirt off. Did you notice there ain't a muscle on your damn body? That's your fault. That same laziness is the reason you are sitting next to Chris Berman on Sunday morning instead of getting your cankles taped and getting ready to go ball.

        If your only source of resolve is to talk trash about the Cowboys (particularly T.O.)  and say crazy things like the Panthers are better off without Steve Smith, that's cool. But we all know where you would rather be. I hope ESPN makes you cover Terrell Owens' Hall of Fame induction.

                                                                               Sincerely,

                                                                               Everybody.