Brett Favre finally retired yesterday morning.
I was never a big fan of Brett Favre. Really, I was never a fan at all. It doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy what he brought to the game. It was just that I wasn’t a guy that would root him on every Sunday and act as if I was a supporter to the fullest. To me, he was a quarterback that wished too much reward on too many risks.
I use to joke around with my father that Brett Fart was the preeminent Interception King. Nobody could knock the guy’s glory or intrude on his pride. He knew how to throw picks like the worst of ’em. We’d sit back and have a few laughs every Sunday when we seen the scoreboards saying “Favre: 2 TD, 3 INT.” We’d hee-hew for a few hours over Favre’s interceptions and not stop laughing about it until we had a ‘next time’ to laugh about Favre’s pick total.
Though, there’s one sentimental moment I got out of Brett Favre’s career (that’s relevant to my father) that I never got out of Joe Montana’s, Johnny Unitas’s or John Elway’s career.
Three days after my father passed away (Dec. 18, 2003 — December 21, 2003), Brett Favre’s father passed away. At the time, I didn’t think anything about the comparison, 99.9% because I was mourning and was in a state of mind where I could barely think about much of anything.
You know how some people resort to alcohol to get themselves in a better mood (only to crash later)? Well, for me, it was sports — mostly football or NASCAR. A day after December 21, Favre opted to play Monday Night Football against the Oakland Raiders. A decision that startled every NFL fan in America (including me). Of course I watched the game, though; like I said, it was my get-away-from-reality-for-a-little-while zone (a zone every man has).
Favre passed for 400 yards and completely electrified the fans. You could practically see the electricity emanating from Favre’s passes on every throw. It was amazing. I can’t explain in person or write about how I felt watching Favre put all the then-nascent action into, well, action.
Throughout the game tears began to flow out my eyes. I began to think about how my father and I would have been watching this game and how we would have been talking about Favre’s astonishing performance. Then, shortly thereafter, was the part that started making my eyes commence the waterworks: I began thinking about how Brett was overcoming the adversity and putting on a show in front of thousands of people, having possibly [in my opinion] the game of his career. Every shot of him on the sidelines looking emotional, I could relate to the guy — I knew what he was feeling. Exactly what he was feeling. Yet, he was tossing footballs down the field for touchdowns with ease, even though he had just lost the guy that made a huge impact on his life.
That moment forever inspired me, because I knew that if Brett Favre could go out ONE DAY after his father passed away and do what he loved the most — play football — I could do whatever the hell I wanted to do in life with dedication and an incredible exertion of hard work; my father often told me those morals when I was a kid, but I never seen it in action until I saw Favre lay it on the line that game. I was never a fan of Favre’s before (as aforementioned), but that night, for the first time ever, I took some solace in watching that game.
I can’t exactly say I’m going to miss Brett Favre in the NFL, but I will say this: I’m going to miss every touchdown strike he threw from December 22, 2003 until January 2007, because they all reminded me of that Monday night game.