Not My Favre-orite

JW,

As you know, and as our readers have begun to guess, I’m a man of many contradictions. A (rebel) flag-waving Southerner, I dislike most Southern states. A college-educated twenty-something, I detest Barack Obama. A hearty fan of the political invention that was good ole’ boy George W. Bush, I roll my eyes at legitimate good ole’ boy Brett Favre.

Why the attitude? Perhaps it’s due to the potential ending of the Favre news-cycle-that-wouldn’t-die, a culture-defining moment on par with the lunar landing. Now that Favre seems ready to fade into the Mississippi sunset, I’m ready to declare something shocking. Excellence aside, I don’t particularly like the guy.

Hard to believe, isn’t it? Disliking Favre is like disliking fireworks: You’re okay 364 days a years, but once every July you’re just an a--hole. Here’s the thing, though. Favre is one of those guys whose legend has so far outpaced his actual accomplishments, they’re barely visible in the rear-view mirror. Yes, he’s great. Perhaps he’s even in the discussion for best ever. But he’s disgustingly, almost religiously admired by all, and he’s been the subject of waaaaay too much sports journalism. In the end, doesn’t that outweigh the good?

Look, I know the overexposure isn’t all Favre’s fault. Al Michaels, John Madden, and the rest of the fawning cretins who’ve covered him for the past eighteen years are largely to blame, as are the ESPN producers whose Favre-watch marathons have turned the guy into the sports equivalent of Chandra Levy. He practically has his own Sportscenter logo, for heaven’s sake! All joking aside, you’ve got to admit that sportscasters’ love of Favre is the most self-referential love the world has seen since George Foreman named his sons. Consider, for example, the following praise, edited for clarity:

“Favre hasn’t missed a start in all this time [that I’ve been covering the league].”

“I just love [talking about] that guy [for money].”

“He’s such an ambassador for the game [because he’s always in the news].”

“Everyone’s going to miss him [until Tom Brady’s first game back].”

I could go on, but I’d only be contributing to the problem, adding to the trillion words that will be written about the man between now and his inevitable 2010-2011 comeback. So perhaps I’ll leave it at this. Favre will be remembered not for his records (many of which Peyton Manning will surpass) but for his endless, dreadful waffling. For someone who did everything on the field but over-think things, that’s pretty sad.

-GM

GM,

How much can one really like a professional athlete anyway? You might watch a guy and say, "Man, I love the way he hustles," or, "His athleticism is unbelievable," or, "I'd love to just sit down and have a few beers with him." In those ways, I suppose it's possible to like LeBron James, or Phil Mickelson, or Manny Ramirez, or Brett Favre. When it comes down to it, though, we know very little about these guys as people--well, individually at least. Collectively, though, we can all assume they suck. Think about it. These are people who have had their egos stroked and fed since they were children. Few societies offer social rewards like ours to athletes. Right now, there are thousands of high school quarterbacks who are being given every possible indication that they're better than their peers, and most of them won't even play in college. Imagine a kid with pro potential! Is there any way he's not being shaped into the most arrogant bastard in his county?!

So what's to like about Brett Favre? Well, he wears Wrangler jeans (the FTC requires spokespersons to actually use the product they endorse), has a Southern accent (which seems to go well with football), appears to have fun playing the game, is not a criminal, and looks like he's actually trying to answer questions candidly when the media ask them. These things alone have caused many to love the man. They have caused me to assume he possesses higher character than most of his league mates. But I never doubted that he thought a lot of himself--even enough to make entire cities hold their breaths while he took his time. To be honest, I'm going to miss the drama. It was the only saving grace for ESPN programming in July last year. No offense, Title Town, USA.

-JW