Brett Favre. Are we finally done talking about him for a few months? I'm gonna need a rest from being swamped in Favre Fever. It's like botulism, but with more vomiting. But the only thing I can think about is that when January comes, we're going to be right back here again.
That's the problem with all of this. This makes, what? Six years of Brett Favre retirement speculation, with two and a half actual retirements (the half was from just a month ago, where he told the Vikings that he was staying retired). I probably should even say this, but fuck it: I feel sorry for his wife, because we all know how women love a decisive man.
Look, I understand that retirement from sports can be a difficult thing. You're being forced to give up a game that you've played since you were a kid, a game that, in your mind, you never stop being able to play well. I get that. Professional athletes are generally retired by 40 (except tennis players, who retire by 25). That's a young age. It's not the 1700s anymore. You've still got half of your life left to live, and Lord knows your trophy wife doesn't want you spending it around the house.
But can we get you to pick a side and stick with it? You're not being asked about foreign relations with North Korea; We're just talking about whether or not you're going to keep playing a game that you still want to play.
For three years, sportsmedia was held hostage in the offseason by the prospect that Brett Favre, the eternal child, could retire. Not that he had announced that he would, but that he might. All Brett Favre had to do was nip this crap in the bud and say, "Hey, asshole. I'm not retiring. I'm only 35."
But he didn't do that. And sportsmedia apparently fell in love with the idea of digging in Favre's garbage, checking his used tissues, and dispatching CIA helicopters to wherever he is, so it continued, even when he actually did retire. Thing is, no one believed that he was really retired. And clearly, neither did he, because he spent the first few months of retirement trying to get traded.
Now, why couldn't he just say, "No, I'm not retired." How hard would that have been? Instead, we had to sit through his press conference, where he got all emotional and teary-eyed, and damn near electrocuted himself on the microphone. We had to read everyone's half-assed tributes to Brett Favre <(including my own). He knew all along that he wasn't staying in Hattiesburg. Have you ever been to Hattiesburg? If there weren't stoplights in the middle of town, there would be no reason to stop.
And after forcing a trade to the Jets (because no one would have been dumb enough to trade him to their biggest rival), he decided that he had to up the ante a little bit. Of course, he doesn't know that he wants to go through training camp again (the same bullshit that he's fed you since 2004), but he also needs surgery on his throwing arm! And he's 39! How tough must he be to do all of that at 39? Maybe those Wrangler jeans commercials were right.
You're not fooling me, Brett. You're setting up a return that will pave the way for beatification. If all goes as planned, one day, people will tell their grandkids about the time a 40 year old Brett Favre stopped a sniper's bullet from killing the President with his surgically repaired shoulder. Phases one, two, and three are now complete. And now, we wait. Oh, yes. It's just a matter of time before everyone is wearing St. Brett medals, the patron saint of indecision and media oversaturation.
Didn't you learn anything from Michael Jordan on how to retire? Sure, he came back one too many times, but the difference between his retirements and St. Brett's is that Michael actually retired, let us think about something else, like the Lewinsky scandal, and when he came back, we gave a shit. I don't think the NFL is going to devote the Pro Bowl to glorifying Brett Favre's career, because they're gonna be pissed when they spend all that money and he's got football fans by the balls again next season. And they wonder why fans throw batteries from the upper deck.
All of this could be avoided by Brett Favre opening his mouth and saying, "Yes, I'm coming back," or "No, I'm retiring." Exhaling three or four words isn't going to shave any time off of your life. If you were so worried about that, you wouldn't have played a violent contact sport for 16 years. 16 years that's likely to turn into 17. Or 18. I need a drink.
All of this Machiavellian scheming just so he can stick it to Packers GM Ted Thompson. Now, how petty is that?
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