Culture Blues

The Rant: Brett Favre

When I was choosing something to rant about this week, it’s possible I could have chosen something a little more original.  Perhaps I am being a bit of a hypocrite, as the amount of coverage this man gets has been known to piss me off.  Just the same, I wanted to get this off my chest.  So here goes.

There are certain things in life, certain interests, which I just don’t like to question.  I fear that if I think about them too long and too hard they will lose their appeal (see: breasts).  If you break most things down to their simplest level, it’s easy to think of them as silly and not worthwhile.  Why, for instance, should I care about dudes I don’t know competing in athletic contests for obscene amounts of money?  Can you really think of a good reason?  In high school I didn’t cheer on our football team, because I thought they were all a bunch of dicks.  Why should this be any different?

Growing up in Wisconsin, I never really felt like I needed a reason.  Rooting for the Packers was just something you did.  Unless, of course, you were one of those kids who picked a random team just to be different, but that’s another rant for another time.  My father went to the Ice Bowl, and it was ingrained in me at a pretty young age that these football games were pretty important.  I followed other sports loosely, but baseball, basketball, and hockey just never really did it for me.  Sure, I can participate in a conversation about any of these sports and sound like I have some idea what I’m talking about, but nothing ever resonated with me as much as football.  At the center of this obsession was Brett Favre.  While other NFL teams saw a constant rotation at QB, we had it pretty good: a sure fire first ballot hall of famer who never missed a start, played at a high level, and put the Packers back on the map.  Several years ago I was on vacation in Florida waiting in line when someone asked where I was from; after I responded the first thing they said to me was “gotta love that Brett Favre.”  Football announcers reminded us regularly that he could do no wrong.  And, by gosh, he was just a kid out there having fun!  During a Thanksgiving Day game against the Cowboys, John Madden once theorized that he became a better player after he was injured.  It was like a bad Chuck Norris joke.

It is only now that I realize how unbearable this had to be to some fans, but hey…I loved it!

The biggest criticisms against Favre were turned into strengths.  His gunslinger mentality gained endless praise.  Unnecessary risk taking became hip.  We quickly forgave his errors on the field, and off.  In an age where substance abuse (performance enhancing or not) gains maximum attention, Favre’s addiction to vicodin seemed to fade out of the public consciousness quicker than expected.  This was a guy that we all wanted to be perfect, we wanted it so hard.  We wanted to believe that he didn’t care about money, that he was a mythic unicorn with a rocket arm and a love of the game.  We wanted to justify our faith in professional athletes.

But then a funny thing happened: Brett Favre turned out to be a bit of an asshole.

Let me get this out of the way right now, I’m not one of these crazy hicks who think that Brett should be dragged into the street and beaten to death for leaving the Packers.  In a lot of ways, it wasn’t even his choice.  The first time he un-retired I actually agreed with him that if he wanted the starting job he should still have it.  The Packers brass didn’t see it that way, and there was a most ugly divorce.  As I watched it unfold, a bit of my tolerance for pro sports faded.  The one player who I thought was a shoo-in to play his whole career for one team, my team, was going elsewhere.  After he left the Jets and his teammates came forward with a laundry list of complaints about how he acted above everyone else, a bit more of my tolerance evaporated.  As the interviews went on, and I had to sit through Favre acting like the victim because the Packers wouldn’t trade a Hall of Fame quarterback to the exact team he wanted to go to (a division rival no less), I felt almost sick.  When Chris Collingsworth sympathized with him and wiped his tears, it was the end of an era for me.  I would never have a sports hero ever again.  It was suddenly too ridiculous to bear.  He was “just a kid out there” indeed, a five year old who needed attention.

In some ways this isn’t even a critique on Brett, but on people like me for putting him on a pedestal as if he was more than just an incredible quarterback.  It is a critique of the media for making a man into a god.  But he’s not the devil; he’s just another spoiled athlete who likes his name in the papers.  If you don’t think this is a joke by now, consider this: since I started working on this piece, the following events have unfolded.

-Widespread rumors of Favre texting several players and coaches that he is retiring

-Favre saying that he will play again if he’s healthy

This is in the span of two days!  How can anyone even bring themselves to care anymore?  This is a circus.

This shift in ideology is inevitable, I guess.  I’ve become more and more cynical as time passes.  As I’ve gotten older Lambeau Field has lost some of its magic as well.  It is no longer a place of wonder and excitement as much as a place for drunken idiots to complain about every call that goes against the home team.  When Viking fans taunt me that they swept us last season I don’t really get all that angry, I just agree that they had a better team and move on.  Even so, as football season approaches I find myself excited none the less.  No matter what my brain says, my heart is still involved, irrational as that may be.  I will still bitch about every predictable play call and poorly timed turnover.  I will still watch every Sunday.  I will agonize over every close game right along side a lot of the same fans I complain about.  But it won’t be the same.  It never will be.

I am surrounded by people who either want to elect #4 president, or murder him.  Like in most cases, the answer lies somewhere in the middle.  This article is in some ways a thank you to Brett for helping me let go of the notion that these brats actually deserve my allegiance.  At the same time it’s a big time “fuck you.”

Because part of me still wants to believe in a fairy tale.

Tagged as: Bitter Wisconsin assholes, brett favre, Green Bay Packers, Just a kid out there, Minnesota Vikings, Unretirement