Chicago Tribune
March 5, 2008
Our loss.
That's probably heresy to most hard-core Bears fans, but it's true. Anybody who likes football, who likes emotion and effort and dash, had to like Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre.
Oh, I know, he haunted the Bears for years. I know he usually did whatever he wanted against the team from Chicago, and what he wanted to do most was win. So that's what he did, over and over against the Bears, to the tune of a 22-10 record. By all rights, he should have had carpal tunnel syndrome from the 53 touchdown passes he threw against the Bears alone, but the guy never seemed to get injured.
The NFL became a colder place Tuesday with word of Favre's retirement. Chicago even might have dropped a degree or two in response.
I can't think of a higher compliment than to say he was Chicago, even though he lived in a far northern suburb we refer to as "Wisconsin." He was what Chicagoans want in their athletes. He was hard-working, fun-loving, daring, devilish, unblinking, unpredictable and opportunistic. He was as tough as a Chicago winter, which, admittedly, is a Green Bay winter with training wheels. But you always had this vague, empty feeling he belonged here. In search of proof, you kept waiting for that bayou drawl of his to produce a few "dees," "dems" and "dohs."
He accomplished a lot in 17 NFL seasons, winning a Super Bowl and three most valuable player awards. Those things were him, of course, but they were not all of him and certainly not the best part of him. No. That was reserved for his approach to football.
He looked like a kid who was playing a game in a park, and even the most cynical among us had to appreciate that, especially in a sports world in which greed and self-absorption seem to be the most prevalent attributes. If he threw a touchdown pass, the look on his face would lead the uninitiated to believe it was the first time it had happened to him.
There was something about his wild, reckless smile that made you feel as if you were in on the stunning accomplishment or the bawdy joke. There was some cowboy and fighter pilot to him, with a pinch of Jack Nicholson thrown in.
The cowboy imagery probably works best. He made it feel as if your six-shooter had just been shot out of your hand by the fastest gun in the West. No shame in that, you told yourself. And you were right.
If you're sick of Favre beating you, then you're probably happy to see him go. The Bears trotted out 21 different starting quarterbacks during the time he was entrenched in Green Bay. So some of you are saying "good riddance," which is understandable. But in a broader sense, his retirement is a blow to the NFL, which becomes more structured and sterile with each passing year. Favre was anything but that. He probably has permanent smudges on his finger from drawing up plays in the dirt.
If the early reports are true that the Packers did little to encourage the 38-year-old Favre to play another year, then shame on them. He showed last season he could play a low-risk game without feeling he was selling his soul. And Green Bay won in the process.
Perhaps he simply figured it wasn't going to get any better than last season, when the Packers made it to the NFC championship game, losing to the Giants, the eventual Super Bowl champions. Or maybe it's exactly what he told ESPN, that he couldn't stand the thought of coming up short again, of going to the Super Bowl and losing.
Whatever the case, it's our loss.
He had his failings and his dark times. Off the field, he got himself addicted to painkillers. On the field, he too often tried to make the spectacular play when the safe play was the right play.
He was human, and he let his humanness show. He wasn't shy about showing his excitement over a big play, and he wasn't afraid to cry at a painful loss. He dealt with his addiction, his wife's breast cancer and his father's death with candor. He did not have a spokesman ask everyone to respect his privacy. He was honest-to-goodness honest. He seemed to embrace his relationship with the public. There was something symbiotic about it.
We avoid calling athletes heroes anymore because they so often let us down. And when men and women are dying in combat, it seems embarrassingly hyperbolic to throw around such lofty words. But let's agree that there was a lot about Favre that was worth emulating.
Find joy in what you do.
Put your talent to work.
Try to rise to the occasion.
Don't shy away from your problems.
Toward the end of Favre's career, gray hair started taking over his buzz cut. If the lion were not yet in his winter, he was seeing his share of snow showers. But he played on and played well.
It's a little colder now. Can you feel it?
No comments:
Post a Comment