Ever try to squeeze the square block into the circular hole? It’s tough. Never seems to fit, no matter how hard you push. Number 4 can, with ease. He’s made a habit of it, metaphorically. The times when you think there is no possible way for to snake out of a situation; there he is, with a smile on his face.
He once stood in the shadow of his own field goal post and threw a 99-yarder to Robert Brooks. He’s thrown the same seven yard quick slant to Donald Driver for six years. He’s shovel passed to Ryan Grant, Samkon Gado, Ahman Green, Dorsey Levens, Edgar Bennett and Vince Workman during the last 15 years.
Brett Favre, at times, is all you need to say when describing the NFL. He’s a man that is breaking records every time he straps on a helmet and laces up his cleats, literally. He has played 251 consecutive regular season games in his career, an NFL record, and looks like a man who has no intention of stopping. Even when his body, and all logic, tell him to.
This last weekend he surpassed Dan Marino, again, when he threw one of his famous quick slants to Driver in the fourth quarter to push his career passing yards to six yards further than Marino’s. He finished the game with 227 yards, but who’s counting anymore? He is a first ballot Hall of Famer and might have his own wing in Canton.
Even the fans who don’t like the Packers, like Favre. He plays the game coltishly and never misses an opportunity to have fun on the field. Fans live vicariously through Favre. Not only because they want too, but because they can. Because with Favre, it’s all about mentality. He was once quoted, “Mind over matter because if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Almost the American working man’s motto.
Favre is a down south kid from a big family. He grew up in Kiln, Mississippi which is about as big as a ripe Georgia peach. His father coached the high school football team. His upbringing was as American as apple pie with Cool Whip on top.
Every time fans watch him gallop up the field after a touchdown pass they cheer and laugh with him. And after an interception, when Favre pulls his chin strap from his left ear with frustration, they feel his anger and aggravation.
But that is about as angry as you will ever see Favre – the few seconds after an interception. By the time he sits o the bench he has usually calmed down. He’s almost painfully stoic.
Empathy might be the best word to use in conjunction with Favre. It seems to be the motif of his career. Empathy is the audience projecting itself into the performer. If what the performer does involves strain or joy, the audience experiences it also. Tom Hanks has made millions off of it. Favre has made a career of it, too.
He has battled through quite possibly the longest string of bad fortune that any quarterback has ever faced in the history of the NFL. He was involved in a near fatal car accident, addicted to pain killers, his father passed away, his brother-in-law was killed in an ATV accident, his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and Hurricane Katrina ravaged his home. That’s just to name a few. And every Sunday or Monday, and sometimes on Thursday Favre puts on his pads, throws on his jersey, straps up his helmet and walks out onto the field.
But after all of the records and all of the fame, Favre might be best remembered as the best testament to the working man in this country. For those people who work 12-hour days, raise a handful of kids and make it to service every weekend. Brett Favre is a shining beacon.
Some people mock his perfect attendance. For showing up to work regardless of the obstacle put in his way. Much like they did for Cal Ripken. Others say he doesn’t deserve the passing records.
But he does. If there is one person who fits at the top, has earned his stripes and paid his dues, it’s Brett Favre. Haters can push their dislike of Favre as hard as they can, but chances are it will never fit.
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