*BUMPED FROM 7/27/07*

Steve Gleason, we hardly knew ye. We were well aware of your hair. But ye? Not so much.

What we do know is that you’re a badass. A cult hero. A fan-favorite. By all accounts, a genuine good guy who has given his blood, sweat and tears for our New Orleans Saints every single day of the six years you’ve been here. And as far as we know, not once have you ever maimed a dog for your personal pleasure and financial gain.

We’ve heard that you’re a pretty strange cat, and we say that in the most complimentary way possible. A dude who does his own thing, and is in love with life. A damn fine American. All that good shit.

The Saints put you on injured reserve yesterday, and we’d just like you to know that we think that’s a damn shame. A damn shame. I once asked God why bad things happen to good people, but he never got back to me. I’m pretty sure my correspondence got eaten by his spam filter. Stupid fucking AOL.

We can only hope that we haven’t seen the last of Zombie Shakespeare you in a Saints uniform. (Oh snap, I seem to remember reading that you don’t own a tee vee, so you probably didn’t get that reference. Shit.)

But even if that turns out to be the case, we know you’re gonna be all aces regardless. You’ll have legions of black & gold bleeding admirers following your career whatever happens, and rest assured that you’ve earned that.

It’s almost a shame to boil it down to this, because it really doesn’t do justice to your body of work, but dude…. dude….

You’ll never know how big that was.

I know you "get it." But will any of us, individually, ever really get it? Four blocked punts. 98 tackles on special teams in only 83 games. Bitchin’ hair. The guy who set into motion the greatest play in the history of the Saints. And quite possibly one of the finest moments in the history of the city.

Dude, Brian Milne ain’t got shit on you.

7000 backpacks to Katrina kids. Promoting literacy, environmental responsibility (without being too hippie about it) and actually walking the walk rather than just cutting the checks and taking the deductions. Way to drive a biodiesel-converted truck.

Rock on, Steve Gleason. Rock right the fuck on.