Goodbye Chargers. I'll see you in August.
If only there hadn't been a stupid kick return for a touchdown. If only there hadn't been a tipped ball for an interception. If only Weddle's head hadn't been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If only our offense had taken the field for more than five seconds in the third quarter. If only the officials didn't make an exponentially horrible pass interference call.
I still love you.
I love you for coming back and beating the Chiefs in the last minute of the game. I love you for beating Tampa Bay and kicking the snot out of the Broncos. And I love you for figuring out how to win in overtime against the Colts. I'm sorry that you had to go to stupid Pittsburgh with their stupid terrible towels and their stupid over sized quarterback without our beloved Tomlinson.
You should feel sorry for me as well. You should apologize for the fact that, while I devoutly watched you play football, I had to endure 80,000 Subway commercials. It really was a sacrifice on my part. Because if I have to hear "Five. Five dollar. Five dollar footlong." one more time, I just might punch my television in its face.