Since it looks increasingly likely that not only will he start, he will be much the same as he has always been.
You are bad for me.
I mean that not in any metaphorical or figurative way.
You are bad for my mental and physical health.
I become a different person when I see you on the field, angry and infuriated and cruel and vindictive.
Seeing you fumble the ball off your own hip reminds me of all the years we’ve sadly been forced to share together.
It no longer surprises me.
It still disgusts me.
I don’t like the person I am while you are “leading” my team.
I forgive you.
I hope you find happiness in your future career as a mediocre grocery store clerk.
I promise not to laugh when I see you bagging some poor old lady’s bananas, dropping them on the floor, then stepping on them and pratfalling your way into some intricate display your coworker just finished.