Yesterday Brett Favre was reported retired.
I posted "I'll believe it when training camp ends" on my friend's facebook.
Sure enough, today he will play if he's healthy.
The last few years Brett Favre was playing with Green Bay, I used to think of my relationship with Brett like a woman dating a jerk (*). He hurts you, promises never to do it again, builds your hopes, then lets you down at the most crucial moment. The NFC championship overtime game against the Giants (2:40 tells the story) was the end for us.
I had a whole future for us...defeating the undefeated Patriots in the Super Bowl and cementing our legacy forever. Instaed he did the equivalent of proposing, being a saint all the way up to the wedding, and ditching me at the altar in front of my friends and family. Only I had already booked the honeymoon trip so I gave the tickets to a bridesmaid I didn't really like anymore but only invited because...well, I just HAD to, okay...and then she went on the trip and had a fabulous time and now I have to hear about it and see pictures and it's gone down in history as the GREATEST MOMENT OF ALL TIME IN HONEYMOON--ER, SPORTS--HISTORY!!!!
When it comes to football, Brett Favre is to his fans what Lucy is to Charlie Brown.
Screw you, Brett Favre. Screw you, New York Giants,David Tyree, and refs that couldn't tell holding when they saw it, and screw you, New England Patriots (**).
Okay, I'm over it.
Now, the annual Brett Favre saga (He's retiring, no he's not, he's retiring, no he's not, and--oh--did I miss training camp again this year? What an uncanny coincidence!) has become the NFL version of the Friday the 13th franchise: always the same, and each installment shittier than the last, yet strangely comforting.
I never thought I'd say this about Brett Favre, but it's nice to know there's someone you can always count on.
(*)I am the woman in this analogy. I don't know what this says about me.
(**) Amazing how sports trumps my Buddhist practice. One bad throw into coverage > years of carefully crafted equanimity.