Tuesday, January 03, 2006


Even though Brett Favre's last game was in all likelihood played on Sunday, I didn't get to watch the entirety of it until just now while Maya's down for a nap. We had a New Year's Day brunch on Sunday and most of my prime football watchin' time was spent prepping waffles and making sure everyone's coffee was toasty and delicious. Better late than never when it came to this throwaway effort - the Pack won 23-17 over the Seahags and Favre played throughout until stepping aside on the final play when the error-apparent, Aaron Rogers, took a knee as the TV cameras lustily followed the always classy Favre. I will never be anything but a Packers fan. Period. That's frustratingly genetic and anyone who's got a serious sports affiliation knows exactly of which I speak. But my connection to the Packers I fear will forever be lessened by the loss of Brett Favre. He was my compatriot. We're the same age and he came to prominence as I was leaving college and beginning my own journey 'round the "Country" (his nickname throughout much of his career). To say that he grew into an infinitely classy fellow would be a grand understatement. Brett was an amazing athlete. He took horrifyingly original chances, delighting those of us infuriated by the risk averse. Brett improvised like a homeless shelter kitchen manager. And he looked great doing it even during the worst year of his Hall of Fame career. Or, I should say, he still looked like Brett Favre this year even when he was unintentionally abandoned by a team of mediocre talent and screwed by a coaching staff and front office of inexcusable lameness. When I was home in Wisconsin over Christmas, everyone hoped to avoid discussing what comes next for the Pack even though everyone knows what is coming next. Favre is leaving, and the decade-long hangover will hit almost immediately. To have missed the chance to seriously tie one on while he was still at the Party will be lamented for years and years to come. But I'm not bitter. Hell, I even hope he hangs it up and once-and-for-all shows us all how a truly classy ironman can walk away and not be remorseful. Brett can write his ticket anywhere both in and out of football commentary for the remainder of his lifetime. I just hope he ignores all of those that missed the chance to appreciate his contributions to a great American sports legacy. Walk away healthy, rich and strong. You did a heckuva job, Brett. And for once, that means something real.


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