Some things in life are inevitable. Birth. Death. Taxes. Cold winters in Providence. And Brett Favre's inability to decide his future.
He flip-flops more than John Kerry and your pair of beach sandals combined.
It might be fair to say that the rock song "Should I Stay or Should I Go?" by the Clash plays in his head on eternal repeat. But for now, Favre's presence on the Vikings rocks the scale of power in the NFC North in Minnesota's favor.
Picture this: Brett Favre on his ranch in Mississippi, sitting in a big, comfortable leather chair, possibly with a moose head mounted on the wall behind him. Don't picture him sitting back and relaxing with his feet up on the ottoman, for he is in too much distress, thinking to himself— Should I stay? (This ranch is kinda nice.) Or should I go? (The NFL is also nice). Hmmm.
Now that the NFL offseason is heating up, there is one question that has worn out its welcome: Will Brett Favre return next season?
The beginning of February marked the end of the NFL season and, dare I say, Brett Favre's career. This time, he might be ready to hang it up, throw in the towel and any other sports cliche symbolizing closure you can think of.
During this past NFL season, one of my colleagues at The Herald wrote about "the increased hate-ability of Brett Favre," and I was drawn to the article, still sick and tired of the incessant media coverage surrounding Favre's pondering and waffling the past two summers.
The summer after Favre retired from the Packers and rumors of his return to football swirled around like the winds at the old Candlestick Park, one could say the media had a field day with the story. Except it was not just one day, it was many days, even months of the same thing. Will Brett Favre come back? Will Brett Favre return? Or more indirectly, will we live to see another day of Brett Favre on the gridiron? (Wrangler commercials don't count.) During the monotonous, laid-back summertime, when long, hot summer days and cool, crisp summer nights blended together, the one thing that constantly changed was the status of Brett Favre.
Favre retired from the Packers following sixteen seasons, but came back to sign with the Jets, then retired again, only to unretire once more. When Favre joined the Vikings, the Packers's rival, fans wondered how he could betray the adorable Cheeseheads. "Try him for treason. He's a traitor — a modern-day Benedict Arnold." But before anyone gets the guillotine, or the noose, hold on.
Favre certainly was not the first star quarterback to end his career with another team. Johnny Unitas, Joe Namath and Joe Montana all left the teams with which one would still associate them.
But there was still something wrong.
Green Day sung "Wake Me Up When September Ends," and I thought to myself, wake me up when Brett Favre makes a decision.
So after considering his situation, I wondered:
IS FAVRE THE VOLDEMORT OF FOOTBALL?
Well, like Voldemort, Favre just won't seem to die. He just keeps coming back. Obviously, the media's infatuation with Favre has only exacerbated the constant hoopla surrounding him, but don't blame me. I am only here to set the record straight, finally. Just be thankful the media is allowed to say his name: "Favre." It would be way worse if he were another You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
According to J.K. Rowling, Voldemort possesses a fear of death. This strikingly resembles Favre's fear of growing older and not being able to play football. Voldemort believes he is superior to those around him, and some might argue Favre feels the same way about himself by essentially playing by his own rules when deciding whether or not he will return to football.
Both figures have inflicted much harm on others. Voldemort cast physical harm and death, and Favre left his former fans in Green Bay with emotional damages. But Favre cannot be Voldemort because Voldemort did not have the capacity to love. Favre's enthusiasm and love of the game are unparalleled in an age when professional sports have become more about maximum contracts and salary arbitration than about the pure joy of playing the game.
When Favre plays, he jumps up and down, he slaps his teammates's backsides and he jokes with the young guys. It is his last chance to be a kid again, and he keeps coming back because, like anyone else, he would rather be young than old.
Every year, Favre realizes his body is tired and that it is difficult to prepare mentally and physically for the game each week. But then as the season looms closer, he realizes how he cannot live without football. In life, there are certain things that often go together like salt and pepper, peanut butter and jelly, and Simon and Garfunkel.
Then there are things that have to go together. Without daytime there would be no nighttime. Without life there would be no death. And without football, there would be no Brett Favre, as we know him. But there is one problem with this analogy.
Football does not need Brett Favre. Brett Favre needs football.
A B.L.T. without bacon is no longer a B.L.T. But football without Favre is still football. And therefore, football will recover after Favre leaves it for good. Meanwhile, Favre will be relegated to that big, comfortable leather chair in Mississippi where the only type of quarterback he will be playing is of the armchair variety.
And so when he does retire for good, it will be a sad day for football, but an even sadder day for Favre.
Favre lives for football, literally. Going into his senior year of college, he got into a car accident, which nearly cost him his life. He lost control of his vehicle when driving around a corner near his parent's house. The car flipped three times and eventually crashed into a tree. Favre was taken to the hospital after his brother smashed a car window with a golf club, allowing Favre to escape. (Perhaps Tiger' wife, Elin could learn a few lessons.) In the ambulance, Favre asked his mother, "Will I be able to play football again?"
Favre will be forever remembered in the record books, but he does not seem like the kind of guy who settles for consolation prizes. No one can recreate the feeling of leading a game-winning drive, winning a Super Bowl or having an entire state, or even nation, watching your every breath and counting on your every move. In Green Bay, Favre was a god. In Minnesota, he was almost a savior. In Mississippi, he will eventually be an AARP member.
After all this, I realized I did not hate Brett Favre. In fact, I really like Favre. I just hated hearing about his possible return to football. Now I have learned not to care whether Favre will come back at this stage of the offseason. He will decide once again when he feels ready to make a decision. Some might say this is unfair to the Vikings because, if he is not going to come back, they may want to draft a quarterback. But they will just have to accept the fact the Favre will not be able to make an informed decision about his future until the season draws closer.
Some things in life are inevitable. Birth. Death. Taxes. Cold winters in Providence. And Brett Favre's love of football.
And if you still are not convinced that Brett Favre is awesome, here is why you should be:
– His name is spelled F-a-v-r-e, not F-a-r-v-e.
– His gunslinger mentality
– He caught his first NFL completion.
– His Wrangler Jeans commercials (except his follow-through has bad mechanics).
– He sang "Pants on the Ground" in the Minnesota locker room.
– The Brett in There's Something about Mary turns out to be Brett Favre.
– John Madden's infatuation with him and Frank Caliendo's impersonation of it
– His epic, heart-
warming Monday Night Football performance after his father passed away
…and, of course, his love for the game.
