Brett Favre: I'm in town to play the Dolphins dumbass.

It was never about the football for us. It was never about the unprecedented 3 MVP's or the Super Bowl title. It didn't matter that he held all major passing records.

You see, Brett Favre gave the game of football to us. He came in wide-eyed with a cannon for an arm--an old school "gunslinger". His first completed pass came against Tampa Bay. Do you know who caught that pass? He did. That was when we knew there was some hope to be seen in this guy with the oddly spelled last name. Favre? Seriously, it's pronounced "Far-v"??? WTF!?!?! When he came in for Majik and orchestrated the comeback against the Bengals in 92', with a TD pass w/under a minute left, we knew there was no turning back. Here was the guy who was going to bring glory back to Titletown. You see, back then, it was all about the football. We were in a recession. The only chance for glory came when you talked to your parents or your grandparents about what it was like when Lombardi was in town.

First came Ron Wolf. Then came Mike Holmgren. Then came the trade w/the Falcons for Favre. Then came some wins. Then Reggie White came to town. Next thing you know we're in the playoffs and then the Super Bowl. The game had come back to Green Bay. We were "Titletown, USA" again.

To us, Brett Favre was what a football player should be. He was there every Sunday, starting every game--275 in a row. He was the reason sermons were cut short on gamedays. With every pass, he caused us to scream, swear, close our eyes and pray, all in one breath. His reckless abandon made him unique. He could stick a spiral through three defenders and you were amazed, but never surprised, that somehow Green Bay came away with the ball.

But then he became one of us. His painkiller addiction, his family tragedies. Suddenly, he wasn't just a football player. He was someone we saw at a personal level. His pain became our pain. Then his father died. There isn't a football fan that could forget that Monday night game in October of '03 at Oakland. I'll always be able to spout off the statistics: 399 yards, 4 TD's, a perferct passer rating. When he walked off that field with his wife at his side, and you shed a tear, and you knew that he meant a little more to you than anyone else you've never met. Here was a guy who came out every Sunday and showed you that it was possible to love the game just as much at 38 as you did at 8. Pee-Wee to the NFL he always celebrated as if every touchdown was his first. The image of him after he threw the 54 yarder to Rison on the second play of Super Bowl XXXI will always be the iconic of image of a big kid at heart.


You see, it was never just about Sundays. He was everyday to us. He was the game, but in 17 years, the game never became him.

Thank you Brett. It's been a fun, wild, emotional ride that was well worth the price of admission. We knew the day would come when you would leave us and while it's hard to say goodbye, I hope you remember, you gave us more than a game.

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