Enough is Enough

All right, Brett Favre, you asked for it. You're a nice guy and a reasonably decent football player, but would you please . . . just . . . go . . . away.

During last season's NFL playoffs, I was yearning for the Packers to lose just because I was so sick and tired of the Favre love-fest that had long since reached and surpassed the boundaries of gastrointestinal endurance. A nice story. A decent comeback. A solid playoff run in what appeared to be his final season. But, really, now. I was glad to see the Giants knock them off in the NFC championship -- not as you might suppose, because I assumed at the time that the Giants would be an easier Super Bowl target for the Patriots, but because I knew I couldn't take another two weeks of Favre-mania without moving to Zimbabwe.

Around the time that Favre announced Retirement I, Bob Ryan penned a column that articulated my feelings far better than I could. Ryan focusses on the folly of the consecutive games streak as well as the excessive number of interceptions. Those points are well taken. My main objection to the sainthood of Brett is a little simpler -- he only won one SuperBowl, and the other one in which he appeared he folded like a cheap suit against the Denver Broncos. I further maintain that he would not have even won Super Bowl XXXI if (a) Desmond Howard hadn't returned two kickoffs for two touchdowns (the margin of victory), and (b) Bill Parcells hadn't been taking calls from the New York Jets before, during, and after the game.

The in- and out-of-retirement scenario might remind some of Michael Jordan. This is unfair to Michael Jordan. Jordan was perhaps the best player in his sport of all time, certainly the best of his era. Brett Favre was neither. A competitive, durable, and statistically proficient player who played for a team with a national following. Maybe in the top 20 of his position after 1970. The same number of rings as Kurt Warner, Jim McMahon and that guy who played for the Ravens. I've seen enough.