Brett Favre


Anyone that has spent any time at all in Wisconsin certainly needs to read no further than this: Brett Favre, more than any football player in history deserves to be solidly punched in his big dumb face.  We realize that without close examination he may seem like a lovable guy; so loved that half of the overweight, drunk-driving(fifth time’s a charm!) morons who support the Packers are suddenly more inclined to follow the Jets because ‘you just gotta support Brett.’  But this does not speak to his popularity, rather this speaks to a colossal ego that has surpassed any notion of team.  Then again, Mr. Favre has the good fortune to be a white athlete so it’s not an ego, rather it’s a firm knowledge of self-worth.  He’s as real as Usinger Bratwurst.

If one looks at the 1991 Atlanta Falcons team picture they will find Mr. Favre  strangely absent though he was on the roster.  He couldn’t make it to his job that day because he was too hungover.  Everyone has been there, right?  Later in his career Mr. Favre admitted that he was a junkie of the prescription pain killer kind.  But anyone who has had his or her wisdom teeth removed can understand the draw of the occasionally opiate.  No big deal.  And to be fair, it is what the athlete does on the field that counts, unless you are talking about the grit (GRIT!) that allows a man play a game days after his father dies and manage to beat the Oakland Raiders. That grit is everywhere.  Or the absolute tenacity that allows one to play his whole career missing some intestines, not that anyone knows if missing a fraction of one’s intestines really makes a difference in any aspect of life other than the time it takes from ingestion to evacuation.

We will not deny that Brett Favre is a very good quarterback.  He holds many prestigious records and, like Jim McMahon, Trent Dilfer and Brad Johnson, Mr. Favre has won one Super Bowl.  Always the class-act, he laid down and gave Michael Strahan that single season sack record.  Which somehow did not make it seem like a gift, cheapening the effort and making a record as much about Mr. Favre as it is about the man who actually worked all season to break it.  And what of when he was shut out for the first time in his then 16 year old career?  Again proving his mettle Mr. Favre stormed off the field without speaking to reporters, not because he was acting like a spoiled brat, but because he had to stoically go about mowing his own lawn or some other such activity that men do.  And his indecision three years in a row as to whether or not he would return to football.  Which was not only annoying, it was supremely unfair to the Green Bay football club that had been so supportive for his career.  The Packers were not able to prepare during the off-season because they had no fucking idea whether or not the big baby would be back.  For two years in a row.  And then he retires the third, no, whoops, mistake, he’s back!  Not a selfish man, not Brett.  Simply a man that loves football soooooo much retiring or returning is all he could think about.

Not to mention the fact that word around Green Bay is that Sir Brett is a supreme asshole, or the fact that he has forced talented coaches and players out of Green Bay, or the fact that he can’t sell a shitty pair of jeans without a fucking Golden Retreiver or the fact that he used his charity as a platform for his retirement drama or the fact that the Jets did not make the playoffs yet again (and others are pointing some serious blame) or that he is not Peyton Manning.


One response to “Brett Favre

  1. In defense of golden retrievers, that’s just smart advertising.

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