It’s a simple exercise and a simple question.
You are Carson Palmer.
Why do you want out?
Now, allow me to don my chain mail helmet and take up my Styrofoam sword and give you my best answer.
(The following is a hack blogger’s best (which is still really bad) attempt at duplicating someone else’s thought process and should in no way be associated with Carson Palmer’s actual brain whatsoever.)
I just can’t take it any more. I’ve given up the best years of my career, my knee, my elbow, and every last bit of patience I’ve had for this organization. And yet, we have zero playoff wins. Last year was the most frustrating year of my football career. We had talent – some thought it was Super Bowl talent. But we missed the playoffs. And ended up with the fourth overall pick in the NFL Draft.
I’ve kept my mouth shut at some times and said the right things all the others. I’ve played with undisciplined receivers, an average offensive line, and inside a scheme that didn’t work more often than it worked. I wish I knew exactly why things haven’t been better. All I know is that it hasn’t been working for me and the Cincinnati Bengals together. And it may never will. Thus, I believe a separation is best for the both of us. They have a new quarterback now anyway and no longer need me.
So just let me go. Please Mike Brown, let me go. If you don’t – and I have a feeling you won’t – I’ll retire. I have plenty of money and I don’t need the spotlight. I’ve never been one to be on VH1 or Dancing With The Stars or the back of a rodeo bull.
I’ll quit football entirely if I have to.
Just get me out of here.
There, that’s it. Now, it’s your turn.