Like that would ever happen.
In the last game of the 2006 season, the Packers secured an 8-8 record with a meaningless 26–7 win over Chicago. As a sign of respect, McCarthy removed Favre in the fourth quarter, and he was saluted with a standing ovation from the Bears players. Afterward, he choked up during a TV interview and said, “It’s tough. It’s tough. I’m going to miss these guys and miss the game.”
When Favre entered the NFL 15 years earlier, snark and ridicule weren’t big parts of the sports media landscape. Sure, every so often a newspaper columnist might rip you. But overall, coverage was straightforward. Deadspin.com, a relatively new entity on the sports media landscape (and one more drawn to the social pratfalls of athletes than on-field results), was not an outlet prone to sentimentality or cliché. In Green Bay, journalists often behaved as if the quarterback’s decisions were Christ-like in importance. Not Deadspin. Wrote Will Leitch, the site’s editor: “How can we tell he’s not done with us yet? Well, first off, he’s Brett Favre. He was back to his old ‘will he or won’t he?’ games with the media last night, refusing to take questions after the game, which is something media types typically hate, unless they’re Brett Favre. But why go out and answer the same ‘hey, Brett, we know this is the 47,000th time we’ve asked this, but, uh, so . . . next year, we were wondering . . .’ questions when you can just ignore them and get everyone talking about you even more through the next week?”
The piece was pitch-perfect, and prophetic. Ten days after the Bears game, Favre said he was planning on returning. Fourteen days after that, he said he was uncertain, but didn’t want to “drag this out.” Finally, on February 2, Favre told Al Jones of the Biloxi Sun-Herald that, yes, he would grace the Packers with another season of quarterbacking. “We have a good nucleus of young players,” he said. “I am so excited about coming back.”
Thompson and McCarthy were ready to move forward with Rodgers, yet Favre was an icon. To dump him, or trade him, would bring the wrath of 95 percent of Wisconsin—which just so happened to be the source of an enormous chunk of the team’s revenue. Hence, the Packers issued a lukewarm statement from Thompson, expressing moderate delight (or tolerance) with the news. Noted Mike Hart of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: “That was probably chosen over the more candid, ‘Why doesn’t he just &%$#@!! retire already!?’”
So how did Favre thank the organization that allowed him a 16th season? First, by ripping Thompson in an interview with WMC-TV of Memphis for failing to acquire Randy Moss,* the eccentric star wide receiver who was dealt by the Raiders to New England. “The last thing I want to do is start anything,” Favre said—before starting something. Second, by announcing he would skip the team’s mandatory minicamp to attend his daughter’s high school graduation ceremony.
Third . . . by playing some of the most masterful football of his career.
It’s perhaps the greatest mystery of many Brett Favre mysteries. How does a 38-year-old quarterback coming off two straight subpar seasons, with a hatred of the general manager, an indifference toward the head coach, and a young hotshot nipping at his heels, engage upon the ultimate revival? Answer: By just playing. Once the season began, Favre stopped worrying about Thompson, about no Randy Moss, about retirement. He performed with the boyish enthusiasm of yesteryear, and didn’t seem to mind that he was now surrounded by teammates who were elementary school students when he starred at Southern Miss. Over the past few years, young Packers tiptoed around Favre, hoping to spend more time with Rodgers, their contemporary. Favre often seemed in a rush, unapproachable. He had his guys, and if you weren’t one of them, skedaddle. In 2007, that appeared to change. Green Bay opened with four straight victories, highlighted by back-to-back 30-point outbursts against the Giants and Chargers. In the San Diego win, a 31–24 home thriller, the injury-depleted offense started DeShawn Wynn, a rookie seventh-round draft pick, at halfback. Wynn and Favre had exchanged approximately 17 words in their time together, but now they found themselves standing side by side in a shotgun set. “I was on his left, and he changed the play from a pass to a quarterback sprint to the right,” Wynn said. “But he didn’t give me the time to move over.” Wynn, in his third NFL game, screamed toward Favre, in his 264th: “Move me over! Brett, move me over!” Favre took the snap, rolled right, and found himself met by half the Charger defense. “Brett! Brett! Brett!” Wynn yelled. Without making eye contact, Favre fired the ball left to the rookie, who scampered for a 22-yard gain. “Brett ran at me, jumped on my back, hugging me,” Wynn said. “It was awesome.” In the locker room afterward, Favre admitted to reporters that he didn’t know Wynn’s name. “God, he was cool,” said Wynn. “He’d be eating a Snickers bar in practice, he would come over, offer some to us.”
Even without Moss, Green Bay featured its best wide receiver corps in years. Donald Driver, Favre’s closest friend on the team, was now in his ninth season and as good as ever. Greg Jennings was in his second year and had a playmaker’s skill-set. Koren Robinson possessed Andre Rison–level talent (but also Andre Rison–level inconsistency). Because Ahman Green, the standout halfback, left for Houston as a free agent, McCarthy needed Favre to throw, and throw, and throw. Which sounded wonderful to the quarterback. At the Vikings on September 30, Favre surpassed Dan Marino as the NFL’s all-time leader in touchdown passes, connecting with Jennings on a third-and-7 slant from the Minnesota 16. The play was quintessential by-the-seat-of-his-pants Favre. Jennings was supposed to run an 8-yard hitch, but when Favre read blitz he called an audible. Donald Lee, the tight end, failed to hear his quarterback because of the crowd noise. With the clock running down, Favre sprinted toward Lee, told him the instructions, sprinted back behind center, took the snap with a second remaining, watched Jennings bolt past cornerback Marcus McCauley, and hit him in stride. Touchdown. Record. Favre lifted Jennings off the ground as if he were a bag of sugar. He was mobbed by teammates as a message from Marino played on the Metrodome scoreboard, The Packers won 23–16, and Favre was giddy. “It was everything I thought it would be,” he said. “Everything.”
So was the season. On the one hand, Favre would never again be the same guy he had been as a kid quarterback, bopping around the room and spitting out hip-hop lyrics. “As I’ve grown older I’ve become more of a loner,” he said. “I used to thrive on that adrenaline. I never wanted it to end.” Media access nearly vanished; his once joyfully meandering answers to questions were replaced with a simple yes or no. He hid in side rooms. Stayed out of sight. When, at year’s end, the Pro Football Writers of America gave Favre their Good Guy Award, local media members laughed. “I thought it was bullshit,” said Greg Bedard, who covered the team for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. “My first week of training camp I introduced myself to him and said, ‘See you around this year.’ He couldn’t have been nicer. The next time I saw him in the locker room during media availability was the playoffs, when he held court for the national media. I watched that and thought, ‘You must be fucking kidding me.’”
And yet Favre was happy, especially when Ryan Grant, a nobody running back acquired from the Giants for a low draft pick, emerged as Green’s second coming. Grant was everything Favre liked in a runner—tough, hardened, not one to choose the sideline over contact. He ran for 956 yards and eight touchdowns, and knew he had arrived late in the season, when on an otherwise forgettable Thursday morning, Gordon “Red” Batty, the equipment manager, tapped him on the shoulder and said, “R.G., what are you doing for lunch after practice?”
“Cafeteria,” he said. “Like I always do.”
“Nah,” Batty said. “Go to the back.”
Grant retreated to a private section of the locker room, where once a week Favre brought in a luxury chef to cater a gourmet spread. “Hey, Ryan, grab a plate,” Favre said. “Come back here and get yourself some food.” Grant was equal parts euphoric and bewildered. “It was really cool of him to accept me,” he said. “But I also understand why there were mixed feelings about Brett. He didn’t ch
ange with us. He didn’t shower with us. And it’s not like you need to shower next to Brett Favre. But why is he on his own? This is a team sport, no?”
“He didn’t spend much time with us,” said Wynn. “But on the practice field he was amazing. And we won. That’s what’s most important.”
On December 30, Green Bay wrapped a marvelous season with a 34–13 slaying of the Lions. The 13-3 record resulted in an NFC North title, a second seed in the playoffs, and a first-round bye. Favre’s 4,155 passing yards were his best in nine years, and he cut his interceptions to 15 while raising his touchdown throws to 28. His 66.5 completion percentage was a career-best. “He literally eliminated [mistakes] from his game,” said Tom Coughlin, the Giants’ coach. “I haven’t really seen anything like that for quite some time.”
In the lead-up to the playoffs, Sports Illustrated named Favre its 54th Sportsman of the Year. The magazine’s editors did not select Favre because he was the NFL’s best quarterback (New England’s Tom Brady threw 50 touchdowns, and his 117.2 passer rating was far superior to Favre’s 95.7). No, they cited his “perseverance and his passion,” and pointed specifically to a Week 13 game at Dallas, during which—on a single play—Favre separated his left shoulder and took a helmet to his right elbow, that resulted in numbness on two fingers. “To no one’s surprise,” Alan Shipnuck wrote, “Favre said he expected he would not miss a game.”
Against Oakland the following week, Favre started his 270th straight contest. The Packers won. He threw for 266 yards and two touchdowns, including an 80-yard bomb to Jennings.
It looked to be terrific fun.
On the afternoon of Sunday, January 13, in what increasingly felt like a dream season, the Green Bay Packers were handed a gift. One day earlier, they slaughtered the overmatched Seattle Seahawks, 42–20, to reach the NFC title game, where they were expected to meet the top-ranked Dallas Cowboys at Texas Stadium.
Then, against all odds (literally, the Cowboys were favored by a touchdown), the subpar Giants pulled out a 21–17 stunner, thereby assuring the Packers home-field advantage for the chance to reach Super Bowl XLII. In the season’s second week, Green Bay destroyed New York, 35–13, at Giants Stadium. It was presumed this matchup would end similarly. “In a nutshell,” wrote Todd Finkelmeyer of the Capital Times, “the Packers have a significantly better offense than New York, a marginally better defense than the nicked-up Giants and special teams units which have shown the ability to make the big play. Add in the home-field, home-weather advantage, and this is the Packers’ to lose.”
The game began at 5:42 p.m., with a temperature of 1 below. A sellout crowd of 72,740 filed in for what was being called Ice Bowl II. On the New York sideline, defensive lineman Michael Strahan gathered his teammates for a pep talk. “All you hear is Brett Favre this, Brett Favre that!” he bellowed. “The past is the fucking past! This is the present!” Favre, who by now was as much Wisconsin as Mississippi, looked miserably cold, primarily because he was miserably cold. He wore long white sleeves and a black stocking over his head and neck. At 25, the chills had rarely bothered him. He could not say the same at 38. Favre was also experiencing nerve issues in his throwing arm. The more frigid the temperatures, the more difficult the follow-through on throws.
With five minutes remaining in the third quarter, the Packers took a 17–13 lead on Favre’s 12-yard pass to Donald Lee. On the next drive, New York’s Ahmad Bradshaw ran for a 4-yard touchdown, but Green Bay tied the score at 20 with Mason Crosby’s 37-yard field goal. When New York’s Lawrence Tynes missed a 43-yard field goal attempt with 6:49 remaining in the fourth quarter, all felt aligned. When he missed another one, this time 36 yards with 4 seconds in regulation, all felt arranged. “Everything was right there for us,” said Will Blackmon, the Green Bay cornerback. “The Giants were coming with the expectation of losing, and they were right to have that. There was no reason to think we don’t pull that out. Plus, we had Brett. I mean, think about it. We had Brett Favre.”
The game went into overtime, and the Packers won the toss and received the ball. Along the sideline, cornerback Aaron Rouse walked man to man, screaming, “Let’s go! Right here! Let’s go!” Larry McCarren, the Packers Radio color commentator, leaned toward the microphone and said, “It’s Favre time. Here . . . comes . . . Brett.”
The Giants had a fierce pass rush and a strong linebacking corps, but the Packers knew they could throw on the defensive backs—and especially Corey Webster, a third-year corner out of LSU. “I don’t think they realized how good Corey was,” said Dave Tollefson, the former Packers defensive lineman now playing for New York. “Maybe his statistics weren’t amazing, but he made everything look so easy. He could make a mistake and correct himself very quickly.”
On the second play of the extra period, Favre grabbed the snap at the Packers 28 and dropped far back into the pocket. With defensive end Osi Umenyiora charging from the blind side, Favre took two small hops and launched a pass toward Driver 20 yards down the field. It was the quarterback at his best (powerful arm) and worst (boneheaded decision), and Webster jumped the route, corralled the interception, and ran it back 9 yards. Lambeau went dead. “I just didn’t throw it outside enough,” Favre explained. “Just didn’t get it out far enough.” It was, by all measures, a horrible pass.
Four plays later, Tynes hit a 47-yard field goal and the Giants escaped with a 23–20 shocker. Favre was devastated. His shoulders slumped beneath a green Packers parka, he shuffled off the field, suddenly feeling all 38 years on his body. “That’s no way for Favre to go out,” wrote Barry Wilner of the Associated Press. The fans were watching the end of something they would never again witness. Through the crisp, biting air, that much was clear. In the locker room afterward, there was no peppiness, optimism, hope. Favre simply wanted to wallow.
“I didn’t rise up to the occasion,” he said. “I have in the past. So my emotions aren’t good. I know I expect more out of myself. I know it’s part of the game but it’s very disappointing.”
Brett Favre was ready to retire from the NFL.
The Green Bay Packers are as storied as any franchise in NFL history. Yet of all their superstars, no player approaches the legendary status of Brett Favre.
© Jim Biever
Brett Favre and Reggie White spending some quiet time alone during a commercial shoot in the mid-1990s. Though very different people, the two teammates formed a tight bond that lasted until White’s 2004 death.
© David Thomason
Brett, with “Big Irv” in 1998, always credited his father with much of his football success. As Brett excelled, Irv basked in the limelight.
© Jim Biever
Brett Favre (second from left) and his older brother, Scott Favre (second from right), shared loves of football, golf, beer, and hijinks. Later, they also shared tragedy.
© David Thomason
Brett, here with younger daughter Breleigh, was a loving yet distracted father during his days in Green Bay.
© David Thomason
Although Brett’s friends have varying opinions of Deanna Favre, no one can deny the hell the quarterback-husband put his wife through.
© Jim Biever
Though he came to think of Green Bay as a second home, Favre relished simple days back in the yard in Mississippi.
© Jim Biever
Days after his father died in 2003, Brett Favre returned to the field for a Monday Night Football game at Oakland. He performed brilliantly—and refused to hide his emotions afterward during a locker room speech.
© Jim Biever
While far from a vocal leader, Favre could use his words to motivate from time to time. Here, before a game against the Vikings, he stands and delivers.
© Jim Biever
Favre joking around with two of his favorite targets, wide receivers Donald Driver (left) and Greg Jennings.
© Jim Biever
After the Packers used a first-round pick to select quarterback Aaron Rodgers from California, Brett Favre
dedicated himself to making the newcomer miserable.
© Jim Biever
One of Brett Favre’s seemingly endless retirement announcements—but this one, in 2008, was for real. Sort of. Kind of. Actually, no. He was a New York Jet months later.
© Jim Biever
There was no more upsetting sight for Packers fans than Brett Favre in Minnesota Viking duds. To many, it was borderline treason.
© Jim Biever
23
Soap
* * *
WHAT THE HELL am I doing?
Those were the words circulating through Brett Favre’s mind, over and over and over again. For half a decade, he had been alluding to retirement as if it were a decision akin to canceling a magazine subscription, or upgrading from economy to midsize rental car. In his heart, deep down, Favre mostly knew he wouldn’t be hanging up his uniform. He simply liked the attention, the buzz, the speculation. He mentioned the R word, and members of the media spun round and round. It was fun and relatively harmless, and even put a little pressure on the organization to upgrade the roster.
But this . . .
This was different.
On the morning of Thursday, March 6, 2008, Brett Favre found himself sitting on a stage inside the Legends Club in the Lambeau Field Atrium.
Gunslinger Page 39