Gunslinger

by Jeff Pearlman

  The Packers filed tampering charges against the Vikings, who by now were communicating with Cook about Favre coming to Minnesota. (The Vikings refuted the charges, but they were lying. There was regular contact between the team and the agent—“That is undeniable,” said Wied.) Green Bay then hired Ari Fleischer, the former press secretary to President George W. Bush, to handle Favre backlash. On the night of Saturday, July 19, Favre came to Lambeau Field to induct Frank Winters, his friend and longtime center, into the team’s Hall of Fame. He spoke for three minutes, noting that Green Bay is “a special place. There’s a lot of tradition.”

  Favre then walked off the stage and ducked out a side door.

  The back-and-forth continued. The rumors flew. On the same day the New York Post published a story insisting Favre would remain retired, the Minneapolis Star Tribune ran a piece suggesting Favre would wind up a Viking. Favre agreed to not report to camp with the other Packers—but that didn’t mean he would permanently stay away. An exasperated Murphy traveled to Mississippi on July 30 and—without Thompson or McCarthy’s knowledge—offered Favre a 10-year, $20 million deal not to play football. Favre’s people immediately leaked the information to select members of the national sports media. “His solution,” Favre wrote in a text to ESPN’s Ed Werder, “although awkward and unsettling for most, may be the best in the end.”

  Finally, the NFL stepped in. Roger Goodell, the league’s commissioner, decreed that either Favre and the Packers come to some sort of agreement by Monday, August 4, or he would take action. “I think we have to force it,” Goodell said. “It’s come to the point where there needs to be some decisions made.”

  That Sunday, the Packers reluctantly agreed their old quarterback could return and battle Rodgers. Brett, Deanna, and Bus Cook boarded a plane later that day to fly from Hattiesburg to Green Bay. In a few hours the team would host the annual Family Night scrimmage at Lambeau, and Murphy told Favre via phone that he could walk onto the field for a wave to the crowd. As the three flew north to Austin Straubel International Airport, however, the Packers decided to withdraw the invite. Favre could sit in a Lambeau luxury box, but that would be all. He was not happy.

  Before leaving Mississippi, Favre’s handlers called some supporters in Green Bay to leak the news of his arrival, and to make certain there would be a swarm of adoring die-hards at the airport. Hence, as Favre and Co. exited the aircraft, myriad fans and TV cameras braved a soft rain to greet them with loud cheers. Favre, dressed in a black T-shirt and cargo shorts, a backpack slung over his shoulder, smiled and waved with his right hand high in the air. It was all prearranged. “The goal was to pressure the Packers,” said a Favre friend. “Brett doesn’t get told no by anybody.” Around that same time at Lambeau Field, Rodgers—playing in the Family Night scrimmage—was being booed. His crime? Not wearing No. 4.

  Favre had a four-hour meeting with McCarthy at the stadium. Members of the media presumed the discussion concerned how he would fit in with the 2008 Packers. It was nothing of the sort. Instead, Favre let loose. He was furious with the organization, furious with Thompson, furious with their unwillingness to let him sign with the Vikings. He didn’t want to back up Aaron Rodgers, or even have a competition with Aaron Rodgers. He had given 16 seasons to the organization. Wasn’t that worth something? The following morning McCarthy told the media that Favre was not “in the right mindset” to play for Green Bay.

  “We agreed to disagree,” McCarthy said. “We stood on opposite sides of the fence on a number of issues, and I respect the way he feels. But the one thing that I was looking for out of that conversation [was], was he ready and committed to play football for the Green Bay Packers? And his answer frankly throughout the conversation [indicated] that’s not where he was. So with that, we didn’t really move ahead. I had a list of questions for him to answer. I had questions that I felt were important for him to answer. I had questions for him from the locker room, from his teammates . . . I don’t want to speak for him, but based on where he is [and] the path that it took to get to this [point], he wasn’t in the right mindset to play here.”

  In other words, it was over. But not before one last meeting.

  The following morning, Thompson, Murphy, Wied, and Russ Ball, the team’s contract negotiator, drove to the Favre household to meet with Brett, Deanna, and Cook. There was no confusion over the purpose. This wasn’t to keep Brett Favre a Packer. It was to be rid of him. As the four men entered through the front door, the tension was cheesecake-thick. Brett made them wait. He was dressed in a ratty T-shirt and a pair of shorts. They sat down in a living room. No food or drinks. Just talk. “I wanna go to Minnesota,” Favre said—and the frowns spoke volumes.

  “Look, Brett, we have a lot of respect for you,” Thompson said. “But we have to do what’s best for the Green Bay Packers. You playing for Minnesota—that won’t happen.”

  Favre was not happy. “My blood was boiling,” he told the NFL Network. “I was not good enough to play there, but I was too good to play against them.”

  He took a different approach. The Lions were in the NFC North, but were never a threat to the Packers.

  “How about Detroit?” he asked. “I could play there.”

  Silence. “No,” Thompson said. “We won’t trade you there.” More silence. “But how about Tampa?”

  Favre didn’t hate the idea. The Buccaneers’ head coach was Jon Gruden, the former Mike Holmgren assistant. Their quarterbacks, Jeff Garcia and Brian Griese, were ordinary. He could wear flip-flops and shorts without the fear of frostbite. “I dunno,” Favre said. “Not my first choice. I dunno.”

  “The funniest thing was watching Bus Cook,” said one of the attendees. “His face was red, he looked absolutely beaten down. He was clearly tired, and he couldn’t do right for his client for the first time in their relationship together.”

  The meeting lasted an hour. There was no resolution, just awkward handshakes. “It was the worst two hours of my life,” said Wied.

  Where would Brett Favre wind up? Nobody knew.

  On the evening of July 3, 2008, a month before the Favre-Packer divorce became official, Adam Schefter, an on-air reporter with the NFL Network, was eating dinner at La Ginestra, the Italian bistro near his home in Glen Cove, New York. “I had the branzino,” he said. While there, he bumped into Mike Tannenbaum, the general manager of the New York Jets and a man he had known for some time.

  With the draft having passed two months ago and opening day two months away, the NFL landscape was dominated by all things Brett Favre. Where would he go? When would he go? How would he go? “We started talking about it,” said Schefter. “And I remember laying out to him how the Favre scenario would turn out.” To his credit, Schefter was never one to get caught up in the day-to-day frenzy of sports. He capably took the long view, and in this case he had some strong opinions. “People are missing the point on Favre,” he told Tannenbaum. “They’re talking about him getting released, but there’s no way that happens. The Packers aren’t just going to let him sign with whoever he wants.”

  Schefter had thought much about possible landing spots for the quarterback, and only two teams made any sense. “It’s Tampa Bay,” he said, “and it’s you.” The Jets were coming off a nightmarish 4-12 season. Their starting quarterback, Chad Pennington, missed one game with a high ankle sprain, then was benched for Kellen Clemens, a subpar backup. Pennington had been one of the team’s four first-round picks in 2000, but repeated injuries and a weak throwing arm made him an option with limited returns.

  “Adam first brought the Favre idea to my attention,” said Tannenbaum. “And I definitely thought, ‘This is a pretty unique thing.’”

  In the aftermath of the meeting at Favre’s house, the consensus was that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers were about to have themselves a new quarterback. Brett, Deanna, and Bus Cook left Green Bay for Hattiesburg on the afternoon of Wednesday, August 6, with expectations that by the time the plane landed, the Bucs would likely wrap a deal.
“I was sure we had Brett Favre,” said Gruden. The Packers did not want players, only picks. Thompson and John Schneider, the Packers’ director of football operations, were in regular contact with Bruce Allen, Tampa’s general manager, as well as Tannenbaum. In fact, the Packers had first contacted the Jets—as well as 20 other teams—on July 17 with the message that Favre was on the trading block. A week later, when camp commenced, Tannenbaum called Pennington and Clemens into his office out of professional courtesy, but assured both players it was merely rumor. Now, with only two organizations in the running, “merely rumor” was “potentially enormous acquisition.” Woody Johnson, the team owner, met with Tannenbaum, head coach Eric Mangini, and Brian Schottenheimer, the offensive coordinator, after a practice to discuss whether Favre could succeed in New York. “For me,” said Schottenheimer, “it was a no-brainer.”

  Tannenbaum spoke with Favre on Monday night, and presented him with the 20-minute sales pitch of his life. “Look, you won’t be practicing in Times Square,” he said. “The only time you’ll see a big building, Brett, is when you want to see one, I promise you. It’s not what you think it is. In terms of where we’re gonna be is rural New Jersey. There are a lot of good people here . . . We have four first-round picks on the offensive line . . . You can make your own judgment. I think Green Bay has good skill players, but so do we. I feel like we have a good team . . . you give us an opportunity to make it better.”

  He and Cook had two phone conversations, but Tannenbaum knew Favre was not feeling New York. The agent literally said, “Mike, he does not like you guys. He feels more comfortable in Tampa Bay.” That same day Deanna reached out to a member of the Packers board of directors, begging him to intervene and make certain a Jets deal would not happen. When the man said there was nothing he could do, Deanna turned noticeably upset. “It was craziness,” said a family friend. “Nobody knew what would happen. Deanna tried the whole ‘Brett has been so loyal to the organization’ thing, and everyone was fed up and sick of it.” The Buccaneers were willing to surrender a third-round draft pick and, if the Packers so desired, Griese. Green Bay liked what the Jets were offering—a conditional fourth-round pick that would rise in value with different milestones. Should the team reach the Super Bowl, New York would owe the Packers a first-rounder. Thompson and Murphy also preferred Favre leave the NFC.

  Finally, late Wednesday night, Thompson, Schneider, and Tannenbaum reached an agreement. Woody Johnson, the billionaire owner of the franchise, was at a movie with family in the Hamptons when his cell phone rang. He excused himself from the theater and took the call. It was Tannenbaum. “Woody, we’re ready to go,” he said. “I think Brett is gonna come, but I can’t be 100 percent sure he’s going to show up. And if he doesn’t, and we make this trade, you and I are going to be on the back page of the tabloids next to a headline that says, THE TWO DUMBEST MEN IN THE HISTORY OF NEW YORK SPORTS.”

  There was also an uncomfortable catch: because of salary-cap restrictions, the Jets would have to simultaneously cut a big contract while adding the $12.7 million Favre was owed. The obvious move was to shed Pennington’s $6 million. “Which means if we cut Chad and Brett doesn’t come, we’re left with Kellen Clemens,” Tannenbaum told the owner.

  Johnson listened, thought for a few seconds. “OK,” he said. “Go ahead and let’s do it.”

  Tannenbaum called Schneider and Thompson to confirm the exchange: a draft pick for Brett Favre. It was approximately 11:00 p.m. eastern standard time. “Ted,” he said, “we’re gonna do it.”

  “Sign those trade papers right now,” Thompson replied.

  “Done,” he said. “Signed.”

  At 11:15 p.m., Brett Favre was the property of the New York Jets. Tannenbaum, sitting at his desk in the team’s offices, started to scream. “Yesssssss! Yessssss! Brett Favre! Yessssss!” Thompson, sitting at his desk in the team’s offices, took a deep breath. Thank God that was over with.

  The Jets, of course, had no idea whether Favre would actually come to New York. After completing the swap, Tannenbaum dialed the number for Cook. “Bus,” he said, “I’ve got an update for you.”

  “Brett’s not really sure what he wants to do,” Cook said.

  “Well, just let Brett know he’s a New York Jet,” Tannenbaum said. “We just traded for him.”

  “You did what?” Cook yelled. “You’re a crazy bastard. I told you I don’t know if he’s coming. This was not smart.”

  “Listen, I just want to talk to him,” Tannenbaum said. “I have a great story to tell. We’re going to put him in a great situation to be successful. We’re excited to have him.”

  “Lemme call you back,” Cook said.

  The next 20 minutes were the longest of Tannenbaum’s life. When his cell finally rang, Cook kept it short. “OK,” he said. “Brett will talk to you.” Moments later, Favre called.

  “Hey, Brett,” said Tannenbaum.

  “Hey, Mike,” Favre replied. “What’s the dress code?”

  Mangini, the Jets coach, was a stickler for rules. Members of the team were required to travel in sport coats and ties.

  “What do you want it to be?” Tannenbaum said.

  “I don’t like wearing coats and ties,” Favre said.

  Tannenbaum laughed. “What size waist do you have, Brett?” he asked.

  “I’m a 38,” Favre replied.

  “Look,” Tannenbaum said, “you tell me you’re coming and I’ll have a custom-made pair of size 38 camouflage hunting pants that I’m gonna make mandatory on every one of our away trips.”

  With that line, the tension melted. Tannenbaum had Favre converse with Mangini, and the chat went well. By the time the GM next spoke with the quarterback, the outlook shifted. It was no longer whether he would join the Jets. “We’re gonna come down and get you,” Tannenbaum said. “We’re gonna stand shoulder to shoulder with you, and we’re gonna do great things together.”

  “Alright,” Favre said. “Get those pants and come on down.”

  Tannenbaum hung up and fired off the most excited e-mail of his life. It was sent to Bruce Speight, the team’s media relations director, and read: “I have great FUCKING NEWS! CALL ME! GREAT NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!”

  At 12:36 a.m., the organization sent out a press release that began, “The New York Jets have acquired QB Brett Favre from the Green Bay Packers . . .”

  By the time Tannenbaum returned to his Roslyn, Long Island, home from the Jets’ facility, it was three o’clock Thursday morning. Just a few hours earlier, Tannenbaum told his wife, Michelle, that it wasn’t looking good. Now, he entered the bedroom and shook her from a deep sleep. “Hey, Michelle! Hey, Michelle!”

  “Huh . . . what . . . huh?”

  “We got Brett Favre!” he said again.

  “What do I wear?” she mumbled.

  “Um, I don’t know,” he said. “But we have to go get him.”

  Michelle woke up and changed from pajamas to a pantsuit. Within two hours, the Tannenbaums, accompanied by Dave Szott, the Jets’ player-development director, found themselves at Republic Airport in Farmingdale, Long Island, boarding Johnson’s twin-jet Cessna Citation. “This sure beats JetBlue,” Michelle said. At 5:54 a.m., the plane lifted off for Hattiesburg. Mike Tannenbaum slept the entire two-hour journey. They were met by a limo, which took the crew to Cook’s office. En route, Tannenbaum texted Favre, asking what sort of dip he liked. “Copenhagen,” Favre replied.

  In the name of a strong first impression, Tannenbaum had the car stop so he could grab Favre a tin.

  Cook drove the three-person Jets convoy to the Favre household. They were shown in by Deanna and asked to make themselves comfortable as Favre prepared to leave. For the next 90 minutes, they waited, and waited, and waited. The Tannenbaums were in the process of constructing a house, and Michelle spent much of the time perusing the Favre’s palatial kitchen. “Michelle, this is Brett Favre’s house,” he said. “You married a front-office executive, not a quarterback. Keep that in mind.”

&nbs
p; Tannenbaum checked his phone. He chatted with Szott. He paced. Mostly he sweated. He first started working for the Jets in 1997, and through the years he’d seen his fair share of sure things devolve into near misses. When Favre finally came down, he looked at the threesome and said, “Hey, lemme show you guys around the property!”

  Glub.

  “I’m thinking, The last thing I want you to do is show me around the property—I just want to get you to New York,” said Tannenbaum. “But that would not have gone over so well.”

  Following the tour, the fivesome (Szott, the Tannenbaums, and Brett and Deanna) took a limo back to the airport. There were several TV reporters waiting outside, so Tannenbaum handed Favre a Jets baseball cap. “Brett, put this on,” he said.

  Deanna grinned awkwardly. “You’re gonna break a lot of hearts,” she said, “when you get out of this car.”

  On the flight to Morristown Muni Airport in New Jersey, the women and Szott sat in the rear of the plane, Tannenbaum and Favre in front. Brett was talking when, suddenly, the Jets’ general manager fell asleep, then stirred awake, then fell asleep again. “I was just dead tired,” he said. Favre laughed and asked Tannenbaum, “Am I boring you?” The quiet time was actually torturous for Brett Favre. How did this all happen? Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Maybe I should have just stayed retired. Deanna could see the concern across her husband’s face. “Hey,” she said. “Whether you’re here one year, two years, five weeks, whatever, you’ve got to be committed.”

  He nodded.

  After finally landing, the group took a helicopter to Johnson’s farm in Bedminster, New Jersey. Favre and the Jets owner spent several hours together, discussing everything from football to hunting. “That was a pivotal part of everything,” said Tannenbaum. “Having them start off on the right foot.”

  The Jets were in Cleveland for the preseason opener against the Browns, and Tannenbaum and Favre, along with Johnson, Clay Hampton, the senior director of operations, and Matt Higgins, the executive vice president for business operations, flew to join the team (Deanna returned to Mississippi). Favre had grown accustomed to the beats and rhythms of Green Bay. From the little (where to grab a bottle of water) to the big (the playbook), Favre knew the Packers like he knew the contours of his own hands. Now, within a matter of hours, everything had changed. He was a Jet? The idea itself felt out of body. Thomas Jones was a Jet. Kerry Rhodes was a Jet. Chad Pennington was a Jet. But Brett Favre? It didn’t sound right.