So. That happened.
I’ll be up front about this. I’ve been a vocal Favre hater for more than a decade now. I rolled my eyes when Madden waxed rhapsodic about Favre’s status as a gunslinger. I groaned inwardly every time someone told me that he was a ‘man’s man.’ I hated the entire city of Green Bay for unleashing him on the world.
I hated him because he (and the Green Bay Packers) stomped all my beloved New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI, leaving college freshman Maggie slumped on her bed wearing an expression that looked…kind of like the expression in that picture, actually. I’m bitter, I have a long memory and I learned how to hold an old-fashioned Irish grudge at my Grandma’s knee.
I tell you this only so I can explain to you, Green Bay fans, that I understand how you’re feeling right now, or how you’re going to feel if he goes through with this and suits up for the Vikings. That white hot, fiery hatred? That urge to punch that picture at the top of this post repeatedly because you can’t get the real thing in your hot little hands? The indignant, righteous and strangely helpless fury? I’m with you. I’ve been there. Hell, I’m upset on your behalf.
See, I’ve long suspected that Favre was going to end up with a plaque in the ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. (The man took a dive for Michael Strahan, for God’s sake. He did the ‘I’m going to maaaaaaaybe retire, maybe not, let’s talk about me some more’ dance so many times I think Peter King performs the steps in his sleep. The writing was on the wall, people.)
The question, though, is just who he’ll be joining in the semi-hallowed, but mostly tarnished ‘Dick Move’ Hall of Fame. Come for the self-indulgence, stay for the money-grubbing.