Am I the sole soul who's had his fill of the incessant chronicling of the Brett Favre saga? All summer we were forced to listen to breathless reporters decree "he's coming back", "no, he's staying retired" like a tired track on a scratched CD. When Favre had played that tune long enough, the pontificators became cynical and began criticizing Saint Brett. Now that brought him into training camp at just the right time so as not to do the hot, hard work with his teammates. What a leader of men. Enough already. But no. Like a Fruitcake of the Month gift, it keeps on giving all year long. Now we have to listen to the apologists explain why he didn't lead the NY Jets to the promised land of Super Bowldom last year. He was hurt, but supposedly the Jets didn't tell. Now the NFL has fined the team $100,000 for its artifice. The new storyline is how he is agreeably taking second billing to Adrian Peterson, the second coming of running backs. Enough.
Isn't this easy to decipher? Maybe I just don't get it, but my take is that no matter how much scratch a guy has socked away for that rainy day, who is going to turn his number 4 jerseyed back on a figure north of $10 million and closer to $14 million? For five months work? I mean for goodness sake, Brett must have lost a little as the rest of us did during the recession that we're coming out of right now. Oh, not for you? Me neither. Do the math, though, for Brett. Fourteen large (really large) can take the sting away better than, say merthiolate or Bactine (ancient bacteria fighters).
Moreover, while I sit here listening to "Telstar", can someone explain why Favre isn't pronounced 'favor'? Kind of like Gil Faver (or was it Favre) in the old TV show "Rawhide" where Clint Eastwood got his start. "Through rain and wind and weather . . . keep them little doggies by your side." How was that for a segue?