Following my Farve-rite Quarterback

I risk writing that which has been written a million times. I risk beating a dead horse to death long after rigor has already set in. I risk inciting groans from my parents and wife who have heard me espouse the greatness of Brett Favre far too many times.

But it must be done. This summer I purchased and donned a New York Football Jets hat for the first time. Yes it looked weird at first. Heck it even felt strange. When you live and die by the results of the Green and Gold of Wisconsin it's bound to feel weird and strange. What bugs me the most is that people look at you and figure that your supporting the team because of one player as if there is shame in it. Some will even call you a bandwagon jumper as if the Jets are going to the Superbowl this year and the Packers are going to fall apart.

For all that care there are reasons for my sometimes blind loyalty. You see I won't forget watching Football at the age of 13 for the first time shortly after moving to Canada from Germany. In Germany football is played, well, with your feet. It took a heated argument with the young boys across the street to understand that what I thought was football is actually called soccer here.
I'm not sure if Brett played in the first football game I ever watched, but I'd like to think so. At the time he was a young 24 slinging the ball all over the place with the youthful, reckless abandon that he still plays with today. I was 13 and sports heroes were still heroes. They could do no wrong, lived perfect lives, had good marriages and weren't addicted to pain-killers. It didn't hurt that the Packers won a lot of games and eventually the Superbowl (beating the Patriots I might add). The NFL was the greatest show on earth. It is pomp and extravagance mixed with strategy and violence. It's cockiness, wealth and money mixed with blue collar, lunch-box-carrying work ethic. It has its glory and boy can it have its problems. And Brett was the poster boy. Now he changes teams after all these years after a summer of playing he said they said and they love me, they love me not. Fact is he may have 1 or 2 years left with the Jets.

So you can call me a bandwagon jumper if you want. Call me disloyal to the Packers. Think less of me because I changed who I support. Brett made me love the game of Football. I figure I owe him 1 or 2 years.




-Son