I Am Brett Favre - Brett Favre

When you are willing to kill your last few remaining brain cells watching the Jimmy Kimmel Show and he introduces Gene Simmons as his next guest but you still keep watching – it might be time to get a life. For reasons unknown, I continued watching Mr. Tongue hold court with Mr. ABC promoting the fact that he was fired off the reality show, Celebrity Apprentice. There’s something about The Donald’s existence in the universe that defies the laws of gravity, style, logic, taste, and common sense. By the way, I have never seen the show but just the thought of its cancellation somehow makes me very happy. I was tired and began nodding off.

Suddenly, I perked up. The old Kisser had actually said something interesting. He was bragging about how rich and smart he is and went on to explain that he is a brilliant marketer and an advertising king. He went on pontificating that he was the genius who thought up all those branding promotions for businesses like Kodak, the NHL, and he came up with the “I am Indy” campaign for Indycar.com. He said the art of selling is all about taking brands down from their big lofty ivory towers and making them emotional. He claims to have started a wave of these “I am…” commercials. “I am Starbucks, I am the NFL,” and blah blah blah. What’s next, I am Preparation H?

And then it hit me. I know why virtually everyone in America loves Brett Favre. Most football fans have developed a deep emotional connection to him. He doesn’t exist way up in an ivory tower; he exists in all of our collective hearts. Our attachment to all things Brett made us desperately pull for him. We needed him to get one last shot at going out on top but the New York football Giants and the other Manning ruined it for all of us. In actuality, the Packers defeat was caused by Brett’s self inflicted wound – that’s what really made it hurt. Unless, of course, you’re reading this within a fifty mile radius of the Big Apple, then you probably went to bed with a little smile. However, the rest of us hit the pillow slightly depressed that he hadn’t led the Cheeseheads to a storybook overtime victory.

We’re all connected to our favorite greybeard this side of Letterman because for so long we’ve seen him pull rabbit after rabbit from his magic helmet and we’ve come to expect it. Fans have witnessed him do everything from celebrating miracle finishes on the field to mourning life’s tragedies off it. I must admit, watching Green Bay lose the NFC Championship at home last night because of Favre’s overtime pickoff stings almost as badly as his probably frostbitten nose.

For people over thirty years of age, he proves that, as we age, we are still able to perform at or above the level we used to when we were younger. Heck, he’s even improved, so maybe we can too. And for you kids under 30 years of age, Favre is a true living legend. He’s your link to history. Someday, you’ll be telling stories to your kids about watching him play just like Grandpa used to tell you about Joe Namath, Terry Bradshaw, and Joe Montana. Although, none of the afore mentioned Hall of Famers would have thrown an interception in overtime. Well, okay, maybe the Blonde Bomber might have.

We all lived and breathed through Favre on the field Sunday night and now it feels like a little piece of us died out there on the frozen tundra. But I’m sure old # 4 will be back next year to give it another valiant effort. I sure hope he comes back just so I can still say, “I am Brett Favre.”

Right now, I’m going to watch Peter Chriss make frittatas with Rachael Ray.

Give peace a chance.