Brett: Behind The Facemask
FROM ANDREW BRANDT:
As he walks away from the game – once and for all, I believe — I’ll always remember the good in Brett Favre. He probably was not deserving of the level of hero worship and idolatry he received at times in his career, nor was he deserving of some of the negativity that came his way the past year. He was sometimes legendary, sometimes very good, and sometimes a “what the —- is he doing?” quarterback. But more than that, from my vantage point, he was a person who made people feel better after being around him. That’s a wonderful trait to have.
In my nine years with the Packers, he was the only starting quarterback, the only player I knew who played for my team at its most important position. And this tenure was after the three MVPs, two Super Bowls, the Vicodin issues, etc. There’s an entire generation of Packer fans who have never known, until this past season, anyone other than Brett leading the team. That continuity, familiarity and success created the institutional brand that Brett was — and will be again one day — for the Packers.
This column will not debate Brett’s on-field accomplishments, which were monumental. I’ll leave that for talk radio and others to debate. Nor is this meant to rehash his divorce from the Packers last summer; that’s for another day as well. This is about Brett the person, sharing some impressions having seen him up close for almost a decade.
My most vivid game memory was the first game I saw him play in person. As with anything, the first time is usually the most memorable. In the season-opening game against the Raiders in Green Bay in 1999, Brett led the team to a thrilling last-drive victory, including some especially scintillating throws. I didn’t really know the legend of Brett, having just moved there, but I understood it then. He was a force of nature that permeated the team, the city, the state, the league and the extensive Packer Nation.
I remember, after a stirring Monday night win in Jacksonville where Brett ran in the winning touchdown after a long drive, a scene off to the side in the locker room. Ahman Green, who was very quiet and not someone who talked much with Brett, or any other teammate, away from the field, went to him and said, “That’s why you are a Hall of Famer. Thanks for being my quarterback.” From Ahman, that was high praise. A subtle but memorable moment.
I remember the first time I touched ground in Green Bay and noticed every other person in the airport wearing Packers gear, with more than half of that group wearing No. 4 jerseys.
I remember being full of frustration on a delayed flight to Green Bay and the captain trying to mollify us frustrated passengers by saying, “We’ll be delayed another hour, but hey, Brett Favre is coming back for another year, so everything’s OK.” And the passengers cheered!
I remember the hordes of fans wherever we traveled who were there to see only one person.
remember sitting with Brett one day as he thanked me and the organization for allowing his agent, Bus Cook, someone I came to know like a (much older) brother, to come to practice, walk through our offices and be received warmly. I told Brett that we were quite fond of Bus, but if Charles Manson represented him, we would allow him the same privileges. He smiled but truly didn’t get the point that, because he was the iconic figure and face of the franchise, we would allow his representative – whoever he was — access.
I remember negotiating his 10-year, $100M contract with Bus and then trying to get Brett to focus on it – and sign it — during the offseason. We had many deals waiting to happen but only after we were able to resolve Brett’s contract, and I was getting exasperated waiting for him to come out of the woods, off the tractor, wherever, to focus on signing the deal.
I remember how smart Brett is. He does a wonderful job trying to pass himself off as a country hayseed, which he is anything but. He’s smarter than he wants anyone to know.
I remember noticing a distance between Brett and back-up quarterbacks who might eventually have posed a threat to his position. Brett knew how he got his job – Don Majkowski got hurt and Brett never relinquished the post – and knew it could happen to him one day as well.
I remember how hard it was to recruit a veteran back-up to play in Green Bay. Agents who had solid veterans – players like Chris Chandler, Trent Dilfer and Steve Beuerlein — were leery of them coming to play for the Packers. Players want to feel they at least have an opportunity to play, but as long as Brett was there, no one felt that way. He never missed a game. Ever.
I remember Brett’s press conferences, where he would lead the media down a path but not take them all the way there. As soon as he was about to say something controversial, he hedged, raised it as a question or pulled it back. His weekly press conferences, while sometimes rambling and contradictory, were as interesting as any around the league (although that’s not saying a lot).
I remember Brett saying he didn’t know about or care about records. And people actually believed him.
I remember cringing when Brett spoke out against teammates such as Javon Walker, who were complaining about their contracts, fearing that some would think management put him up to saying those things, which was obviously not the case. We always expected players to support players in contract disputes.
I remember imploring Brett to trust the young players we were developing in Green Bay. He always said he didn’t have a lot of time to wait for them to develop. I assured him they would do so quickly (and they have).
I remember Brett’s wonderful sense of humor, although it was sometimes bathroom-related. He could impersonate other coaches and players as well as anyone and was especially adept at mimicking our offensive line coach, Larry Beightol, a loveable, bellowing man with creaky knees who was an easy and inviting target for Brett’s barbs.
I remember Brett coming over to me and noticing my suit jacket prior to a game and asking me what the jacket was made of. Before I could answer, he started feeling the jacket all over my back and answered, “Felt.”
I remember that Brett was a friend to the training staff, security staff and equipment room staff at the Packers. He cared deeply for those guys.
I remember how concerned he was about Deanna, his wife. She is a truly special person. Brett really outkicked his coverage with her.
I remember seeing Brett in an empty locker room on Labor Day, which, ironically, was always the day we cut the team down to 53. I told him I was sorry to break the news but we were releasing him. He stared at me for a minute before realizing I was joking.
I remember seeing him in the building on the players’ off day with his daughter and their small dog. He seemed truly at peace with that little scruff of a dog on his lap and his five-year-old daughter at his side.
I remember, like it was yesterday, the weekend in Oakland when his father died. Bus called me on Sunday afternoon to tell me Irv had passed away. Brett was playing golf with Doug Pederson and Ryan Longwell, and Deanna reached him through Doug. Brett came back to the hotel, had some private time, and then wanted to address the team. He wanted to play, for Irv and for the team. There was not a dry eye in that room. It carried over to the next night, as we all now know.
I remember the funeral for Irv that week in Mississippi. That was as revealing a time with Brett as I ever witnessed. I saw him not as the superstar quarterback but as a family member and community member in his hometown. I saw him as a son, a brother, a friend and a neighbor. He had lost his father but was a comforting presence to his mother and many others there.
I remember watching people’s faces, especially those of children, when they got to meet Brett. I never looked at him or the others around him. I just looked at the people meeting and talking to Brett and saw pure, unadulterated joy in their eyes.
I remember how Brett dressed on road trips. Lucky for him he’s not a basketball player, as he would have never complied with the NBA dress code.
I remember Brett and his ubiquitous crossword puzzles.
I remember hearing him on the team plane, sitting next to Frank Winters and their nonstop comedy routine. One time, Winters was doing a crossword puzzle and asked Brett how to spell Mississippi. Brett answered, “The state or the river?”
Behind that public face and star persona is a pretty good person, someone who has fun and cares about others but wants to be cared about as well. Brett has warts and insecurities, as we all do, but in the end, he’s a genuinely good person, friend, husband and father. Beyond the glare of the spotlight that he’s been under for the past 17 years, those traits are what really matter.
http://www.nationalfootballpost.com/2009/0...d-the-facemask/