Take a trip to Valley Forge in January, hold a musket ball in your fingers and imagine it piercing you. There won’t be a doctor or an athletic trainer, so wait your turn.
Then, on to the beach in Normandy, where the only blockers were the dead bodies in front.
Take a knee in the jungle in Vietnam, from Khe Sahn to Saigon, no playbook. Come home to be spit on by cowards.
Take another knee in Fallujah in 110 degree heat. Wear your Kevlar helmet and battle dress; your number won’t be printed on it unless your number is up. No one to spray Gatorade into your mouth.
Real Americans have given their lives all over the world! When you use the banner under which so many have fought as a source of your displeasure, you dishonor the memories of those who bled for the freedoms you have. That’s what the red stripes mean.
No cheerleaders, no announcers, no coaches, no fans.
Your “protest” is disgraceful to a nation of true heroes and only points out your ingratitude for those who have defended you and whose banner will still wave after your jersey is issued to another player.
Neil Burkel, Shelton