A long-winded farewell

[disclaimer: sometimes I get thoughts of things to write but have nowhere to send them. This is one of those posts, so please, please don't feel obligated to read it if you have anything better to do.]

The religion that is the Green Bay Packers has lost its spiritual leader. This may sound a bit dramatic or exaggerated, but it is not. Though Brett Favre's retirement came as no surprise to the rest of the country, nor even to this area, the response fans have had to his announcement is unprecedented in Green Bay, and, I suspect, the entire NFL.

As a transplant to Wisconsin, I have been an impartial observer of the religious fervor surrounding the Packers. The followers are devout and passionate, devoting much of their time, energy, money, wardrobe, and personal pride to the green and gold. Sundays are reserved for observance, with businesses closed and families gathering to worship together in front of the TV. And their leader, the person upon whom rest all their hopes and dreams for the team, has been Brett Favre.

Here is a guy who behaves like a regular Joe, comes from a regular background, and loves to hunt and fish, the two things that Wisconsinites do best. The main difference between him and the guy next door is that he could PLAY FOOTBALL. He was the long-expected savior of a team who, before 1992, was in its leanest years. He played the first few games and was quickly accepted, baptized a local and then celebrated as a hero. The thing is, he is from Mississippi, a place that doesn't know the meaning of the word tundra. As long as he stayed in Wisconsin, it appeared that he was somehow choosing to call this place home, in spite of warmer weather down south. His retirement is seen, in part, as a rejection of Green Bay, and suddenly the old inferiority complex has returned. The fans gave him everything they had: number 4 jerseys sold out as fast as they were made, first-born sons named Brett, signed photos replacing family portraits on mantlepieces. But in the end, it wasn't enough. Apparently, even heroes get tired.

Yesterday, Favre made his official announcement in a televised press conference. Schools put TV moniters in their commons and allowed students to watch. VCR's, TiVO's, and DVR's were active all over Wisconsin, and the tears flowed freely. Having recently lost my own spiritual leader, I understood and recognized the emotions. The disappointment and grief could literally be felt all over, and the question all afternoon yesterday was, "Did you watch it?" Then the raw emotion would erupt afresh. Students at a private high school even recited the "Our Favre" prayer in honor of the man they loved and who, they thought, loved them.

In spite of the fact that I do not consider myself a Packers fan, I have to say that I really do respect Brett Favre. He is one of the few sports figures who makes a worthy hero. He worked hard, never had an attitude, shared his private life with fans, did charity work, and totally rocked on the field. His blue collar image appealed not only to fans in Wisconsin, but all over the US, making him and the Packers a worthy underdog, and it's in our nature as Americans to love an underdog.

So enjoy retirement, Brett. Hunt, fish, and just sit on your porch in November wearing shorts and flip-flops and sipping iced tea. But please, don't forget the fans who will be loyal to you for the rest of their lives and who will be shivering in Lambeau Stadium wearing nothing but a brick of cheese on their heads. Amen.