The Voice of Reason

This has been the spring/summer where the term 'unretired' has come into our lexicon. The person who has improved our collective word bank is our beloved southern good-ol boy: Brett Favre. After his tearful departure in March, Packer Nation went through the process of grieving and moving on.

Starting a few weeks later, Favre decided half-heartedly, then wholeheartedly that he wanted to play football again. When it became apparent that the Packers' brain trust had seriously moved on with their plans to give 2005 first-round pick Aaron Rodgers a legitimate chance to see his skills before he left for free agency (his contract is up in 2009), Favre decided that he wanted to head to Minneapolis where he could play in the relative comfort of the Metrodome and play with his longtime golf buddy Ryan Longwell. When Packers' management said that wouldn't fly, Favre became petulant and started calling everyone out. He leaked private conversations, called out GM Ted Thompson for not hiring his buddy Mariucci, and not trading for malcontent Randy Moss. His interview with Greta VanSustern was a train wreck to watch. As my friend Kevin, a recovering alcoholic for the past 17 years simply said: "He's acting like an addict." Which, of course, makes sense.

Sense is what we've been seeking for the past several weeks. We were in Green Bay this week for our annual Lambeau Family Night with the kids and the scene was surreal. While the team was getting ready to take the field Sunday night, the monitors around the stadium were giving an O.J-esque blow-by-blow of Favre's plane landing and his getaway in an SUV. During the scrimmage, a camera panned the Favre-family suite and Deanna was displayed. Her quarterback husband, while not in the picture was somewhere in the suite out of camera eye. The whole thing made no sense to me, much less my 4-y-o, who asked me last week 'What is a diva'? He's been watching too much of the news.

Through this all, I've been waiting for Professor Bob McGinn to chime in on the situation. McGinn, for those who don't know, is one of the preeminent pro football writers in the country. The fact that he works for the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, and that he covers the Packers makes him a state treasure that rivals Summerfest and the Madelaine Islands. If you haven't had the pleasure of reading McGinn's work, let me give you a rundown. His network of contacts throughout the NFL is astounding. He out-works everyone else in his field and his insights are spot-on. His detail is amazing and I would gladly pay him personally in order to read his daily stories during the football season.

In a column penned today, McGinn came out and said that the Packers made the right decision in moving on without No. 4. Here were some of the highlights:

Regarding the organization's perspective --

"From a purely football perspective, the organizational shift against Favre began that November night in Dallas, gained steam in the arctic cold of Soldier Field and became a blaze during Favre's pathetic second-half showing against the New York Giants with a Super Bowl there for the taking.

Just about everyone who counted in the football department reached the conclusion that Favre could never win another championship. His dismal playoff record in the past decade couldn't be overlooked. And the Packers concluded that it would be the mother of all mistakes if Aaron Rodgers got away without being properly evaluated as a starter..."

And this --

"Once Favre tearfully retired, the die was cast. The singular comment made by Favre on March 6 that remains etched indelibly was his admission that he really didn't want the ball in the clutch anymore.

After that, the Packers cut the cord, and rightly so. Favre had come across to most as an emotionally spent 38-year-old with nothing left athletically that he cared to give."


And finally --

"The Packers blame themselves for making some communication gaffes along the way, which they did. They gave away their motives by announcing plans far too early to retire Favre's jersey and to send him his locker. Ted Thompson hid behind too many no-comments.

But when the endgame is to remove a legend, there is no smooth way of doing it.

Favre went on to risk his future as a heroic figure in the state for perpetuity by his actions last month. All but calling Thompson a liar. Revealing intimate details of conversations with Thompson and McCarthy. Selling out offensive line coach James Campen after he went out of his way to help his old pal.

During one interview, Favre criticized Thompson for not interviewing his buddy, Steve Mariucci, for the job that went to McCarthy. After the horrendous job that Mariucci did in Detroit, Thompson would have been roasted for even considering Mariucci, let alone hiring him.

Those were just a few examples of Favre operating almost in a delusional state, hearing only what he wanted to hear and acting as if he was larger than the team."

I couldn't add anything more than that. Favre is probably the most exciting quarterback ever to play the position and his style and exuberance made easy to relate to and cherish. In the end though, no player is bigger than the franchise and the Packers have one 11 NFL Championships without him. We'll see how long it takes to win No. 13.

It's official: We're growing old

The first time that I ever saw Brett Favre throw a pass is implanted on my mental hard drive. I was sitting in some girl’s flat in London with my friend Chris watching a 30-minute NFL recap with a couple English broadcasters and a former kicker who was doing the color analysis. It was the first football we’d seen in several months while traveling the continent with our backpacks. In the game, Favre hit Kitrick Taylor (or was it Sanjay Beach) with a laser to beat the Bengals in the final seconds of their regular-season game. I looked at Chris and said something like “I hope Majikowski isn’t hurt for too long.” Also indelible in my memory was that we were summarily kicked out of that London flat a day later and had to spend the rest of the week in a crowded hostel. (Editor’s note: The fact that I broke the host’s toenail clipper while trying to cut my unseemly talons was just a small factor in her decision.)

The Majik Man never saw the field again for the Packers. Instead, Favre played for the next 17 years.

I can pretty much pinpoint the points in my life and what I was doing with various Favre moments. The playoff win against the Lions in which Favre’s last-minute (is that getting redundant) pass to Sterling Sharpe resulted in a huge hogpile on the floor of the bar, Fowl Play. The Halloween victory over Chicago in a driving rainstorm; the Raiders’ game that featured the first Lambeau Leap by LeRoy Butler; the game I took my then-girlfriend, now wife to – the Yancey Thigpen drop that gave the Pack the division title; the NFC Championship win over Carolina – I snuck into the game without a ticket and sat in the aisle; or this past January when a snowstorm hit us during the Seattle playoff game. Of course the Super Bowl victory receives the top billing: I remember my roommate and me spending several hours before the game creating our own version of the Lombardi Trophy. The “trophy” was a Nerf football on the top of an empty Miller Lite case, ensconced in aluminum foil. It looked ridiculous but there wasn’t one person at the party who didn’t want their picture taken with it after the Patriots had been dispatched.

All of those were pretty great memories that will stay with me until I die or dementia sets in. I would prefer the former rather than latter.

When I heard about the retirement, I tried to think back to any of the other retirements of Wisconsin athletes that had a similar affect. Robin Yount retired from the Brewers in 1993. He was special because I went back with him to the mid-1970, when sports still had a special magical quality. The only other retirement that I think comes close was Al McGuire’s retirement from Marquette University in the 1977 season. I remember I was home that afternoon and watching my mom cry during the press conference. I had a vague sense of who he was, but anytime you see your stoic German mother in tears it’s a pretty big deal for a 7-year-old. I guess we hold our icons pretty close to us in the heartland.

My 4-year-old, Nicolas, has become a big sports fan. He calls me his football buddy because I watch games with him and take him to games when possible. His favorite player – guess: Brett Favre. He has imitated Favre’s post-touchdown dance, the one with the index finger raised and running in a circle with hip thrown out to the side. In fact, it’s become his signature move after he scores in t-ball, soccer, and hockey. Minutes after hearing the announcement my brother called to commiserate. We were discussing how to break the news to our little guys. His 5-y-o cried for a half-hour after the Packers’ loss to the Giants, about 30 minutes less than his old man. Both Nicolas and his cousin are still in the stage that their sports heroes don’t get old or stop playing.

For Nicolas, his scoring dance has become habit. I imagine that in five, 10 years that he won’t have a clue where it originated from. That’s when his old man will pull out the DVDs – or whatever format is in use at the time – and remind him of when he thought his heroes were magical.