green_bowl_packer
09-05-2006, 09:46 AM
Down here in Chicago this guy is considered an jerk, taking the negative angle on every situation, and calling for every losing coach to be canned. Basically a shit stirrer, to get himself noticed, Ozzie Guillen let him have it and deservedly so (wrong choice of words, but he was on the right track) it was a long time coming. I hope we kick there ass on Sunday And now this . . .
It was time, only Favre didn't know it
September 5, 2006
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
So this is what we're doing in Chicago, laughing at his clownish blooper throws and mocking his stubby gray hair. Sorry, but I refuse to revel in the demise of Brett Favre, a folk hero who transcends silly civic grudges. Many of you will spend the week dancing on the man's grave, wanting him to feel the pain he inflicted on the Bears back when he and the Packers won 18 of 20 and turned a rivalry into a 209-mile waste of time.
Me? I'll be immersed in regret that Favre didn't retire last winter, allowing him to avoid the misery of a swan song doomed to resemble a dead quail.
Or, worse, the second coming off Y.A. Tittle. For those too zit-faced to realize John Madden was a coach before he became an after-school demigod, Tittle was an old-time quarterback who stuck around way too long and literally was reduced to his knees, bleeding from his forehead and temple and staring at the turf. I never thought Favre, the all-time ironman and swashbuckling rebel, would leave football anywhere but on top. Yet as he prepares to play the Bears for probably the final time at Lambeau Field, he looms as an awkward fit for a Green Bay team with a new coach, a new offense, 14 rookies, 13 others with less than two years' experience, low expectations and a future being greased for Aaron Rodgers, the kid quarterback who may be asked to succeed the fading legend sooner than later.
Why Favre would subject himself to another potential 4-12 stupor -- and a reckless desperation that prompted him to throw 29 interceptions and lose seven fumbles in a terrible 2005 season -- is beyond my comprehension. Why he'd risk being benched for a younger, unprepared replacement is harder to figure. But that's where he is at 36, going on 50. A career that deserves to end in triumph, after one of the most revered and inspirational quarterbacking runs ever, appears destined to end with Favre on his knees. The other day, he all but acknowledged as much in a testy exchange.
Critics club growing
''I'm well aware,'' he said. ''What do you want me to do, quit? Are you saying that it's not worth it? I'm totally aware of it; it may not go great. Maybe we get on a hot streak. But the only thing I can do is lead this team, be as prepared as possible and play as hard as I can. I'd love to play for everyone, but I'm not that good.
''I got enough to worry about myself. It's hard enough to play my position. I have enough people telling me I'm too old and can't do it. It's not easy. But I enjoy doing it. Do I enjoy losing? No, but I enjoy the challenge of competing every week. I have no idea what to expect this year, I really don't.''
The criticism comes in torrents now. Only a year ago, Favre was universally seen as an American symbol of courage, persevering through a relentless battering of family tragedy and his struggles with drugs. But he didn't respond well to his dismal season and took too much time deciding if he was retiring or returning, not reaching a decision until late April and aggravating fans around the country. Even his adoring Cheeseheads chafed as they waited beyond the NFL draft for a decision. Turns out Favre was swayed while listening to a radio show featuring Phil Simms, the CBS analyst and former quarterback, who said Favre should return. It's flimsy when a radio show serves as a man's overriding motivation.
When he reported for camp, he sounded like he didn't want to be there. In one breath, he announced rather oddly that this was the most talent the Packers have assembled in his 15 years, even more than 1996 team that won a Super Bowl. In the next breath, he voiced a world-weariness that suggested his body won't survive the season. With rookie guards protecting him, he might not. ''This morning, I'm like, 'What am I doing?' '' Favre said. ''It feels like I've got glass in my shoes. But I know from experience, even though every time we practice and every time we play and every season it may get a little worse, once I get on the field, it seems to kind of go away. Honestly? My arm feels great. The rest of my body feels like I've been playing for 16 years. I probably walk around and run around like an old man. My ankles and my feet and hips all bother me. I don't anticipate feeling better.''
Nor is he terribly thrilled about dealing with the media, another symptom of growing grumpiness. He used to embrace the weekly sessions and empty his heart. Now, he is committing to interviews every other week. What changed? ''Well, we were winning and it was fun and everybody was having a good time,'' he said. ''Now, it seems like every time something is brought up, it's negative ... ''
Respect has been earned
Then why come back? Because Favre still is more a warrior than a worrier, hurting physically but aching emotionally to prove us wrong. You'd like to believe he'll stretch his consecutive-starts streak to 257 while mustering enough pride and performance to break several league passing records within reach, including Dan Marino's 420 touchdown passes [Favre is 25 away]. The Bears aren't dancing on his grave, having been haunted by too many Favre horrors to say anything that might roust him.
''Favre is like a grenade,'' defensive tackle Tommie Harris said. ''He's so powerful and packed with so much punch that you know he's dangerous.''
''He has a strong arm. He still can put it there,'' defensive end Alex Brown said. ''The guy's good. He's one of those guys you can't stand unless he's on your team.''
Seems the thoughts are a season or two outdated. These days, Brett Favre is one of those guys you love to face because he's liable to throw a football between the double 5s on your jersey, as Lance Briggs discovered in a wrapped gift last Christmas Day. The interception was replayed over and over, accompanied by Jeff Joniak's charged radio call, in offseason TV stories chronicling Favre's freefall. It would have been so much simpler if he'd just retired.
That way, you wouldn't be celebrating his pain. And I wouldn't be feeling it.
It was time, only Favre didn't know it
September 5, 2006
BY JAY MARIOTTI SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
So this is what we're doing in Chicago, laughing at his clownish blooper throws and mocking his stubby gray hair. Sorry, but I refuse to revel in the demise of Brett Favre, a folk hero who transcends silly civic grudges. Many of you will spend the week dancing on the man's grave, wanting him to feel the pain he inflicted on the Bears back when he and the Packers won 18 of 20 and turned a rivalry into a 209-mile waste of time.
Me? I'll be immersed in regret that Favre didn't retire last winter, allowing him to avoid the misery of a swan song doomed to resemble a dead quail.
Or, worse, the second coming off Y.A. Tittle. For those too zit-faced to realize John Madden was a coach before he became an after-school demigod, Tittle was an old-time quarterback who stuck around way too long and literally was reduced to his knees, bleeding from his forehead and temple and staring at the turf. I never thought Favre, the all-time ironman and swashbuckling rebel, would leave football anywhere but on top. Yet as he prepares to play the Bears for probably the final time at Lambeau Field, he looms as an awkward fit for a Green Bay team with a new coach, a new offense, 14 rookies, 13 others with less than two years' experience, low expectations and a future being greased for Aaron Rodgers, the kid quarterback who may be asked to succeed the fading legend sooner than later.
Why Favre would subject himself to another potential 4-12 stupor -- and a reckless desperation that prompted him to throw 29 interceptions and lose seven fumbles in a terrible 2005 season -- is beyond my comprehension. Why he'd risk being benched for a younger, unprepared replacement is harder to figure. But that's where he is at 36, going on 50. A career that deserves to end in triumph, after one of the most revered and inspirational quarterbacking runs ever, appears destined to end with Favre on his knees. The other day, he all but acknowledged as much in a testy exchange.
Critics club growing
''I'm well aware,'' he said. ''What do you want me to do, quit? Are you saying that it's not worth it? I'm totally aware of it; it may not go great. Maybe we get on a hot streak. But the only thing I can do is lead this team, be as prepared as possible and play as hard as I can. I'd love to play for everyone, but I'm not that good.
''I got enough to worry about myself. It's hard enough to play my position. I have enough people telling me I'm too old and can't do it. It's not easy. But I enjoy doing it. Do I enjoy losing? No, but I enjoy the challenge of competing every week. I have no idea what to expect this year, I really don't.''
The criticism comes in torrents now. Only a year ago, Favre was universally seen as an American symbol of courage, persevering through a relentless battering of family tragedy and his struggles with drugs. But he didn't respond well to his dismal season and took too much time deciding if he was retiring or returning, not reaching a decision until late April and aggravating fans around the country. Even his adoring Cheeseheads chafed as they waited beyond the NFL draft for a decision. Turns out Favre was swayed while listening to a radio show featuring Phil Simms, the CBS analyst and former quarterback, who said Favre should return. It's flimsy when a radio show serves as a man's overriding motivation.
When he reported for camp, he sounded like he didn't want to be there. In one breath, he announced rather oddly that this was the most talent the Packers have assembled in his 15 years, even more than 1996 team that won a Super Bowl. In the next breath, he voiced a world-weariness that suggested his body won't survive the season. With rookie guards protecting him, he might not. ''This morning, I'm like, 'What am I doing?' '' Favre said. ''It feels like I've got glass in my shoes. But I know from experience, even though every time we practice and every time we play and every season it may get a little worse, once I get on the field, it seems to kind of go away. Honestly? My arm feels great. The rest of my body feels like I've been playing for 16 years. I probably walk around and run around like an old man. My ankles and my feet and hips all bother me. I don't anticipate feeling better.''
Nor is he terribly thrilled about dealing with the media, another symptom of growing grumpiness. He used to embrace the weekly sessions and empty his heart. Now, he is committing to interviews every other week. What changed? ''Well, we were winning and it was fun and everybody was having a good time,'' he said. ''Now, it seems like every time something is brought up, it's negative ... ''
Respect has been earned
Then why come back? Because Favre still is more a warrior than a worrier, hurting physically but aching emotionally to prove us wrong. You'd like to believe he'll stretch his consecutive-starts streak to 257 while mustering enough pride and performance to break several league passing records within reach, including Dan Marino's 420 touchdown passes [Favre is 25 away]. The Bears aren't dancing on his grave, having been haunted by too many Favre horrors to say anything that might roust him.
''Favre is like a grenade,'' defensive tackle Tommie Harris said. ''He's so powerful and packed with so much punch that you know he's dangerous.''
''He has a strong arm. He still can put it there,'' defensive end Alex Brown said. ''The guy's good. He's one of those guys you can't stand unless he's on your team.''
Seems the thoughts are a season or two outdated. These days, Brett Favre is one of those guys you love to face because he's liable to throw a football between the double 5s on your jersey, as Lance Briggs discovered in a wrapped gift last Christmas Day. The interception was replayed over and over, accompanied by Jeff Joniak's charged radio call, in offseason TV stories chronicling Favre's freefall. It would have been so much simpler if he'd just retired.
That way, you wouldn't be celebrating his pain. And I wouldn't be feeling it.