It's the end of an era in Green Bay, if not the NFL. The Ironman himself, a team player in an era of free agency, a man who cared more about W - L than TD - INTs. A gunslinger (yes, I'll say it), in an era of system quarterbacks and playbooks thicker than treatises. I won't lie. A year ago, when watching Green Bay limp to a 4-12 finish and knowing that Favre hadn't been really spectacular since his 2003 Oakland Raiders game, I questioned why he wouldn't just retire. Green Bay had him under contract until 2011 and couldn't release him without a violent revolution in Wisconsin, but I thought maybe it was time for him to step aside for Aaron Rodgers. Maybe it was time to hang it up, he had his Super Bowl ring and every player can't go out a winner.
I was wrong.
Favre rallied in 2007. He extended his streak to 275 regular and post-season starts. More importantly, he brought the playoffs back to Lambeau. After Vince Lombardi left, the Packers made the playoffs three times in twenty-four years. The only NFL team that was still community owned, the NFL's little brother, was just that. A junior team in a big boys league. Favre brought winning back to Green Bay. He brought statistically solid seasons, big wins, the playoffs, the Super Bowl.
Favre's career ended one game away from his third Super Bowl appearance. It ended on a cold day in Lambeau. His last throw of his NFL career was an interception on a play he was doing his damnedest to keep alive. His last NFL Sunday ended with a move that was a little too risky, a little too brash.
In his first season, filling in for injured starter Dan Majikowski, Mike Holmgren, then his first year head coach, came up to him and said something to the effect of: You are me are stuck at the hip, we will rise to the top or we're going to fall into the dumpster, but we're going to do it together. Holmgren did his best to teach a QB whose first NFL completion was a throw to himself, followed by a tackle for a loss, how to play in the NFL. After weeks of film work on how to read defenses, mid-way through the first quarter of a game, Brett turns to his backup Ty Detmer and asks: Hey, Mike's been talking about this all week, what's a nickel? Ty explained to him that it was an extra defensive back put in instead of a linebacker on passing downs. Brett says: Oh, that's it? Well that doesn't matter.
When Favre was still a backup, his job was to relay plays from the sideline to the QB, and his job was to invent the signals. Most teams use obscure hand gestures, that kind of thing. For Texas-42, Favre came up with an imaginary lasso.
Favre, other than probably LeRoy Butler, is the player most associated with the Lambeau Leap. The native of Mississippi came up from Atlanta and made the 'frozen tundra' of Lambeau Field, traditions and all, his home.
This was a player who thrived on wins, and if not wins, then spectacular attempts. It was either going to be a TD or an INT with Brett, he didn't do 3 yard dink and dunk. He was either going to make it or break it, and Favre gave his last shot at it during that last NFC Championship game. What mattered was not that he lost, but that he was home, and football was too. His last interception didn't matter either, because what mattered was that he might lose it all, but not before laying all his chips on the table first. Seconds before that play, the future was fluid. Favre was on one last drive, one last shot at the Super Bowl. In the time that it takes you to read this sentence, the possibilities gradually narrowed to one. Corey Webster got the ball, and the Giants won minutes later. Win or lose, you have to admire the man who gambles like that, betting himself against 11 other men. And, win or lose, you have to admire Brett Favre.
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