Jen_Lada's Blog

The glossy posters lined the otherwise bare basement walls. A man and moments frozen in time. Other than the apparel that indicated his occupation, I had no idea who this honored individual was. I assumed he was someone special, however. They don’t put just anyone on a poster.

Truth be told, the images merely served as a backdrop. A setting, if you will, for the unauthorized actions of a couple of love struck (or was it lust struck?) teens. My junior high boyfriend lined up on the gridiron at the same position as the man on the wall. And though my knowledge of the game itself was average at best, I knew a couple of things for certain… the man on the wall was good at the game. And so was my make-out partner who did his best to emulate the man on the wall. That certainly made him worthy of my young affections.

Never mind the obnoxious green and gold spattered sweats he would sport in homage to the player from Green Bay. Never mind that we lived in Illinois and most football memories still involved a Sweet running back from a decade before. And never mind this idolized gunslinger hadn’t even been to the Super stage yet. The object of my affections had made this quarterback the object of his. So I tried to follow suit as young girls hoping to remain the apple of young boys’ eyes often do.

Over the years, my knowledge about the man on the wall has grown while my knowledge about that boy I used to kiss has dwindled. Recently, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a front row seat to the Brett Show on Earth and today I’m a bonafide Favrophile (join the club, right?) In actuality, it’s hard to find someone who isn’t. Stories about the man from Mississippi are shared with campfire-like vigor: Played for his papa. Nearly a non-recruit. The substitute who found success. Even tales of the man’s farts evoke knowing smiles from those who’ve lived to tell about them. And in between the laughs and the lifts, tucked among the wins and the records are the obstacles he’s overcome. The drugs. The doubters. And most recently, the decision.

Words like icon and hero are often too quickly attached to athletes who aren’t necessarily deserving. Their play may elicit respect and even awe. But too frequently, there are no other dimensions to their iconic status.

With Brett Favre there have certainly been incredible performances. Countless feats of athleticism and even flawed demonstrations of superbly honed skills pepper the player’s career. But coupled with that (because let’s face it - it has to be a tandem) is Brett’s youthful exuberance – unmatched by any other athlete of our time. He is also humble, charitable, reliable and accountable. Yes, much of this maturity took its sweet time showing up but the important thing is… that it did. He’s the teammate we all wish we could be though we’d settle for just having him on our side of the line of scrimmage.

It is rare to have a man rise to the elite level of sport and sustain that elevated bar for nearly two decades. It is even more novel for such an athlete to also evolve into an admirable human being. Which is why the resistance to his retirement is completely understood albeit unfair. Brett Favre is the kind of person you’re happy to have your children look up to. Men have forged bonds with the Ironman. Women have fallen in love with him. And sometimes, young girls fall in love with young boys who want to be him.

It would certainly be romantic if only one member of the opposite sex had stolen my heart in the 16 years Brett Favre has been under center in Green Bay. But that’s not how it worked out.  Actually, that’s rarely how it works out. In life or the NFL. Change is the one true constant in this unpredictable universe. And even when the hands of the clock seem permanently halted like moments immortalized on posters, eventually Father Time wins the tug of war. Time marches on. And now, so does the man on the wall.