bReAk ThE cUrSe!
Brett Favre, known in these parts first for taking little ol’ Southern Miss to its first 10-win season in over 35 years, went on to do a few things in that professional league too. Folks up there practically built shrines for the guy who made the Pack relevant again.
Now it seems Mr. Wrangler might want to play (though he denied it) and doesn’t really care if it’s for a new set of worshipers or the old (after all, those Greek gods did all right switchin’ to the Romans, didn’t they?). And all the talking heads are in a twitch.
Well Brett, I’m here to tell ya don’t do it son. True, you just enjoyed personal records for yards-per-attempt and completion percentage. True, you nearly returned to the game with million-dollar halftime commercials. True, that kid they’re trying to replace you with doesn’t even know enough not to insult the fans.
But let’s be honest, that just makes you look better in hindsight. From now until eternity, every Cheesehead in America will have to admit, “You know, that Bart Starr was a damn good quarterback, but he wasn’t a Favre.”
Which brings me to my point in a rather roundabout manner. You’ve still got NFL glory to attain by never getting on the field again and breaking the damn curse.
As you know, every Madden coverboy has been cursed with maybe the exception of Vince Young (and he’s just a kid, so we’ll see). The quarterback choices – Culpepper, Vick, McNabb – read like a “Who’s Who in Misery.”
Well, coverboy, I think the Madden folks thought they’d break the curse by paying tribute to arguably the best quarterback ever as he stepped away from the game. But they didn’t count on that unquenchable fire that drives you to be the best at anything you do.
What do people really expect? You’re in maybe the best shape of your life and feeling at the top of your game. And maybe if you’re wearing a different jersey than what’s on the cover, maybe the curse would bypass you.
But do you really want to take that chance? I mean, this ain’t basketball or golf we’re talking about. Don’t you remember watching Joe Theismann’s bone coming out of his skin? He was trying to play a young man’s game, a savage game, a game where reputations are made by taking down someone with a reputation.
And do you really have anything left to prove? Let’s see, the Associated Press’ only three-time NFL MVP in history with stats littering the record book because, if nothing else, you were really good for a long time.
Now I know you’re getting an itch and you don’t really know what to do with yourself. After all, chores on 465 acres must be a little tiresome. After all, you’re only 38 — there’s got to be more in life than this. Right?
Relax, there is. A virtual fountain of youth that will keep your competitive juices ratcheted up to a point of quiver. No, no, I’m not talkin’ about NASCAR, though Mark Martin plans to show everyone that 50 is the new 30. Why who’s to say you couldn’t get behind the wheel of one of those things and cause a ruckus?
Nah, I’ve got something better than that. I’m talking about the real deal that keeps real men up nights in a cold sweat — bass fishin’.
Oh, my … the beauty of landing a HOG! Real men around America will set up shrines to you right next to the wooden lure that caught their grandpappy’s hog, which still hangs on their wall (even if it’s in the garage) because they didn’t dare sit it on the curb once he’d gone to the great pond in the sky. And there’s a little cross-over to football, i.e. you still want to be close but not tangled up in cover.
You can still catch the August FLW season just to see what next year’s competition will be. There’s plenty of cool stuff to buy, so that lil’ fortune you made won’t be wasted. Instead of being on TV on Sundays through the football seasons, you could be on TV every Sunday with your own show.
Besides, everybody knows any day spent fishin’ must be a damn good day.