A Get-Well-Soon Card to Trevor Siemian, Former NU Quarterback, Everyday Hero, and Possible True North of My Life

Dear Trevor,

In the words of I think Jesus Christ: It takes a great big man to admit his mistakes. Today, I am that great big man.

I was upset, Trevor. I felt betrayed and deceived by you. Hurt. I just wanted an explanation of how you could be so good and so right for other people, and yet, so wrong for me. It was a hard thing to accept. I didn’t want to believe you had grown into someone better, but there you were, your face in lights, your aw-gosh smile shining, your hair swooshed with just the right amount of sweat … I couldn’t believe it. I sounded off. I lashed out. It was low-key very insecure, and high-key very petty.

But hey, couples fight. We both said things we regret now—that’s okay. I forgive you. Will you forgive me? Will you take me back? I hope so.

I’ve changed now. It’s all thanks to you. When you hurt your shoulder and were carted off against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, it was like you had literally taken on my pain. You lifted it from me, and all that was left as I watched you ride away was disappointment and regret. I wanted you back out there. I wanted you in the NFL. I wanted Big-Boy Trevor back, even if he reminded me of Little-Boy Trevor.

Here’s the thing: Even though your success made me so angry and disheartened as a Northwestern fan, I really didn’t know what we had, Trev. Jesus also said, probably, “You never know what you have until it’s gone,” and he was right. Jesus was right about you and me. I didn’t know what we had until you were off the field and I saw you on the sidelines, nursing your shoulder. I’ll nurse your shoulder, T-Man. Was that your favorite shoulder to cry on? You can have mine instead.

Now that we’ve had some time apart, and some time for both of us to do some soul-searching, I’ve thought a lot about how well you’ve done in the NFL so far. I thought about how it’s taken you four games to reach six touchdown passes and how you had seven your entire senior year at Northwestern. I thought about how you’ve participated in four NFL victories and how that’s only one shy of your total as NU’s full-time starter. I thought about how poised you look against the Panthers and Bengals when a pack of Wolverines was enough to frighten you out of your shoes just two years ago. I thought about those things and for a moment, I felt the baffling rage rise again, but then I simmered down, and I stared out my window pensively, and the sun was setting, and I realized something.

Trevy, you’re a growing boy. I am too. It took some time for me—four whole weeks, in fact—to grow up, to realize that with your new scene and new friends and new football family, you were going to be a different person than the wildkitten I knew. And it took some time for you—two whole years, in fact—to grow up, to mature into the fully-fledged man we all hoped you would be. Everyone matures at different rates; it’s okay. Just know I accept you for who you are now. Don’t bother crawling back to me. I’ve already closed the distance. I’m already at your feet.

Take this humble letter as my olive branch. Go forth, T-Town. Nurse your shoulder. Seize the day. Emerge from your tiny injury cocoon an even greater version of the NFL butterfly we saw in September. I’ll watch you, and I’ll be proud, but I won’t forget the pathetic pupae you were in college. That will always be a part of you. That will always be a part of us.

Time heals all wounds, from shoulders … to hearts. I’m pretty sure Jesus said that too.

With love again,
Daz