Dear Mr Starr

Last updated on: November 11, 2015 at 12:02 pm by John Mark N. Reynolds

Dear Mr Starr 2015-11-11T12:02:09-04:00 John Mark N. Reynolds

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Dear Mr Starr,

They tell me in this fiftieth year of the Super Bowl that you are ill, though getting better. I thought I would tell you two stories in the h0pe that against all odds you would see this letter and be encouraged. Many of us would rather see you at a Super Bowl halftime than whatever flash in the pan they find to perform.

When I was a boy, you had retired from the game and come back to coach the Packers. I had become a Packer fan reading about the exploits of the Green and Gold in your glory years as a player from books I found in the library. Yes, I was and am a nerd. And you seemed like the coolest uncool guy who had ever lived: five NFL championships, the MVP of two Super Bowls, and a disciple of Lombardi.

I was a fifties kid stuck in the 1970’s and I appreciated you. When society made fun of our values, you stuck up for them. When you won, you were a man and when you lost you were a man.

When I heard the Packers were going to fire you, I wrote a letter to you. I forget what I said, but knowing me it was flowery, misspelled, and dramatic. You wrote back. I wanted you to stay. You didn’t, but you did write me back on Packer letterhead.

I kept the letter in a frame over my bed for years.

Whenever I met a blustering person, aware of their own fame, who would demand my students bring the right color sharpie or they were leaving, I remembered your letter. You were more famous than anyone I have yet to meet, but in a tough year of your life you wrote me back. Whenever I have met blowhards and bullies, I have recalled your humility, Mr. Starr. You treated a kid like a human being . . . and this made me much happier than you can know. Since then narcissists in academia, politics, and sports have seemed absurd to me: Bart Starr was better than that! You made all those Lombardi truisms about “team” and “community” incarnate at that little moment.

And then I got to meet you before a Super Bowl in San Diego at a Fellow of Christian Athletes meeting. Many players were there. Many players, who had less stature in the league than you, came, spoke, and left. I watched you stand and sign every thing that was given you, talk to each person personally, and then (when your plane was leaving) give us your address so you could sign the pictures of anyone you missed. When I talked to you, you looked me in the eye and asked me a question. You were a gentleman. Was it any wonder that the line around you contained more young people, folks too young to remember your playing days, than any other player?

At the point, I realized you were not just a star, but Bart Starr. You were an older man who was a gentleman. I have a great Dad, I have been blessed with wonderful mentors and teachers, and was lucky enough to grow up with a “celebrity crush” on a guy that was worth it. We needed you and we need you still.

You have saved many young people from abuse by your work at Rawhide Ranch. You held up traditional American values when Broadway Joe appeared to be the future.

I am thankful for your career, your work, and having gotten the chance to be your fan. I remain a fan, but most of all, a person who admires the content of your character.

Get well, Mr. Starr,

John Mark N. Reynolds

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