Dear Alex,

I’ve always liked you. Ask my friends; they’ll back me up on that. I defended you during your lowest points, saying stuff like, “If he hadn’t been thrown into the fire too soon he could have developed at his own pace like Aaron Rodgers did,” or “If he didn’t have a different offensive coordinator every year he could have flourished under a set system.” You should have heard me gloat last year after that beautiful pass to Vernon Davis that sent New Orleans home. I seriously considered changing my voicemail to “I told you so,” just to rub it in a little more. They tried to put you down after the NFC Championship game loss to the Giants but I stayed supportive. “Next year,” I said. “He’ll be back.” What did you do? You shredded the Green Bay Packers in your opener and had me back to my gloating ways. I’d point to your passer rating and completion percentage, both of which sat atop the league. You can’t argue with that. Yeah, you were never going to be a 300-yard per game guy, but it didn’t matter. That 6-2 record was evidence of that. We could win with you. And for a fan as desperate as I was, that’s all I needed. Which leads me to this: You clouded my judgment, Alex. You know the old saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?” That was my chief argument. And boy was I wrong. The 49ers were by no means broken, but dear God did they go and get one hell of a tune-up anyways. I didn’t see it at first, but I definitely see it now: Colin Kaepernick, in the words of Vernon Davis, is the man.

Up until this season, your performance last year against the Saints was the best football I had ever seen. It had everything: Perfect throws, beautiful runs, and, most importantly, courage. You showed some serious cajones in that game, refusing to lose even against the great Drew Brees. But, umm, did you see Kaep against Green Bay? You were good. Kaep was better. And honestly, it’s as simple as that. You’re just not as fast as he is. Did you see him make Clay Matthews do a little pirouette at one point? Clay’s next fathead is going to be of him in a tutu because of that. And your arm, well, it’s not quite as strong. I’m pretty sure I saw a little smoke behind the ball on that 12 yd touchdown to Michael Crabtree. I don’t know, I could be wrong; I was pretty high up in the stands and had a few beers in me. The point is, he threw that thing hard. Let’s put it this way: You’re a Prius, smart, ok looking, dependable. We know what we’re getting with you, and for the most part, it’s good. Colin though.. He’s a Ferrari. Excessively fast and extremely dangerous, he’s almost too much awesome in one player. The Prius might get me to my destination eventually, and the Ferrari might crash and burn along the way. But I want that Ferrari, because the Prius will never give me that same rush I get every time that Ferrari gets going.

Don’t take all of this the wrong way, Alex. I’m not trying to put you down. I still wholeheartedly believe that you’re a good quarterback. It won’t be here in San Francisco, but your career will continue to prosper. But you’re not Colin Kaepernick, and, well, that’s kind of a problem. As much as it pains me to say it, your days here are numbered. I’m proud to say that I stuck by you the whole way. I was even a little upset with Jim Harbaugh when he first benched you. I don’t think either one of us can argue with that decision now, though. Once again, Jim showed why he’s the coach, you’re the backup, and I’m the guy writing this stupid letter. I will say this about you: You’re a true professional, a fact that makes me even prouder to have been an Alex Smith guy for so long. You weren’t a distraction after the benching; not a lot of pro’s could do that. It’s time for you to move on and be that same pro somewhere else. I hope you succeed, and I hope you use Kaepernick’s success as motivation to get even better. Unfortunately for you, you two will be forever linked. On a happier note, however, enjoy your Superbowl ring! Make sure to shake Kaep’s hand on the way out.

Sincerely,

Martin.