A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 11

Dear Brett,

You know how if a song played during an important moment of your life--first sleepover, first basketball game, first kiss, losing one's virginity, insert any other significant moment-- you tend to relive that moment whenever you hear the song, no matter when or where you hear it or how much time's gone by, that's what you've become.

No matter how far removed from your time as a Packer we Green Bay fans are, the mentioning of your stupid streak and whether or not you are going to play with a broken ankle, a concussion, a shattered vertebrae, or a tarnished legacy takes all of us back to the days when we used to spend all week holding our collective breath awaiting your decision on whether to suit up or not.  And we hoped to God you always would, your "I think I can play" sounding like a rainbow after a flood.

And, while your body was broken for that streak (and we all sat comfortably in the stands or on our couches), that streak happened in large part because we cheered.  Face it, without us you wouldn't have sacrificed shit.  You needed us, and you know it  And we're tired of you not letting this story come to a a sensible end.

We beat you and your Vikings last weekend, busted your team's hopes and two bones in your ankle, yet you couldn't let the streak end there, where it started.  No, you had to suit up and limp through a game against the Patriots today, wearing that hideous purple and gold, that purple the color of a bruise showing us that our cheeseheads and our painted bellies had nothing to do with your Messiah complex.  You didn't give a damn about our dreams.  You did this all for yourself, maybe some guys in the locker room, but the color of the uniform had nothing to do with it.  And we had nothing to do with it, and you never really cared for what we cared for.

The streak should have ended in Lambeau, your reputation limping naked through the Wisconsin wind in nothing but a pair of crocs.  Clay Matthews should have been the one to bury you. That would have been a decent ending.  That would have been coming around full circle.  But then you've always been terrible at endings, so this abomination of a season must go on, and your name must arrive in our ears like an annoying text message in the middle of the night, begging the question: why did we ever root for you in the first place?  And why can we not enjoy a 9-0 win against the New York Jets without having to be reminded at 4:00 that everything that happens to our current team is somehow related to the shit you do?

Sincerely,
a Packers fan


PS Does Ryan Longwell dress up like you for Halloween?

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 10 (Favre Signs with Minnesota)

Dear Brett,

Sincerely,

a Packers fan

PS What is there really to say between us anymore?

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 9 (Green Bay Update)

Dear Favre (notice how we're no longer on a first name basis),

Could you please refrain from throwing 6 touchdown passes when I'm trying to watch my new boy Aaron battle through a shoulder injury in the fourth quarter? I think it's pretty immature on your part to upstage Aaron on the sports ticker, just cause you know I might happen to see the highlights and think what if. I mean, he's testing out his arm, to see if he can still go, and you're devouring Cardinals like birds sucked into the engine of a 747. I think you owe Aaron an apology. I think you owe the birds you killed an apology, and while you're at it, maybe you could send Aaron a text explaining how to play through the pain.

Also, next time I get you on the phone, could you speak with Ryan Grant. He's just not the same without you. He's running with his tail between his legs, and he's not eating. I think he might perk up at the sound of your voice.

Well, as good as you looked Sunday, those Jets throwback uniforms are hideous, and the regular green and white make you look old and a tad fat. I thought you should know.

I also thought you should know I'm alright without you. I've been working out, reading literature, and getting into some new music cause I have a new life now, without you. Let's call it my renaissance, so don't take this letter as a sign I want you back or anything; I don't, and unlike Humpty Dumpty, Al Harris' spleen and AJ Hawk's groin will both be put back together again. We, on the other hand, are Humpty Dumpty's shell and all the king's men will never put us back together again, and if they did, then I would push you off the wall, that's how indifferent I am to your existence. I am so indifferent I will send you plummeting to your death.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

PS I thought you should also know that for the first time in my fantasy football career you're not on my team, so even in my dreams, your actions are of little consequence to me, and whoever has you on their team didn't start you because they know I'd push them off a wall too...seriously, SIX FREAKIN' TOUCHDOWNS, BRETT?!?!?!? How could you do this to me? Your locker isn't even cold yet.

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 8 (Green Bay vs. Minnesota)

Dear Brett,

Okay, I'm man enough to admit it; you looked pretty good yesterday. I still say it was the wrong shade of green. What is it Shakespeare wrote about the color? "O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;/ It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock/ The meat it feeds on...."

I don't know how many more touchdown passes off your back foot I can take, especially to guys named Stuckey and Cotchery, but in all honesty, it wasn't the touchdowns that gave me that sinking feeling in my stomach. It was the fact that you seemed happy to do it. I never thought the sound of J-E-T-S would make you smile in New York the way you did in Green Bay, which is why I now need Aaron Rodgers to come up big tonight.

I don't need to compare stats between the two of you. He doesn't have to match your 194 yards and 2 touchdowns from yesterday. He just needs to make Packer fans smile again. He's just got to give us something we can hold onto, like a win, in primetime, on Monday night, that all of America sees, because we need to move on, especially now that we've seen you already have.

Of course, you do seem to mention Green Bay in every interview. Could you stop that? You're a Jet now, and we're having a hard enough time realizing that without you bringing us up all the time.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

PS Historically, a viking helmet has never been discovered with horns. Yes, Adrian Peterson, not only is your nickname blasphemous, but the helmet you wear is a historical fallacy. No wonder you run so fast...your pants are on fire. Green Bay wins, and Peterson's hamstrings pop like the rubber bands on an old G.I. Joe action figure.

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 7

Dear Brett,

You left some of your things at my place on your way out of town. I've got them in a box if you want them. The box may look slightly familiar to you; it's your locker, ripped out of the wall. Among the items are a Super Bowl trophy, two NFC championships, seven division championships, 160 victories, three MVP trophies, 442 touchdown throws, 61,655 yards, 5,377 completions, 8,758 passing attempts, and 275 total consecutive games started. I have no use for these things. You can have them.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

PS I'm not crying. It's just that the Wisconsin state police had to use tear gas on the citizens gathered outside Lambeau, calling for Ted Thompson and Mike McCarthy's heads. Some might use the term riot to describe the situation. I would call it a peaceful demonstration, an exercise in democracy. Anyway, it's not like I was participating, Brett. I was just passing through, making sure your box was in tact.

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 6

Dear Brett,

Enough already, I don't need a text message every time you floss your teeth. I know dental health is an important matter to you. I also don't need you to leave away messages on AIM that read: "beginning to rinse my mouth with Scope," "rinsing my mouth with Scope," "finished rinsing my mouth with Scope," and "spitting the Scope I rinsed my mouth with into the sink now." I mean, isn't that all one away message?

I also don't need text messages telling me what you're thinking of wearing every morning. Don't you have a wife? The letter you wrote me about tying your shoes was a bit of overkill too. Although, I did appreciate the tip about sobering up the rabbit on its way from Atlanta to Wisconsin as it rounds the oak tree and sails a boat along Lake Michigan. My shoes never come untied now.

Please, refrain from emailing me pics of how you look in every uniform other than Green Bay's because you really love playing GM on Madden. By the way, you look horrible in green and white. The New Orleans helmet looked alright, and there's no way New England trades Maroney for you and let's you play running back.

Another thing I feel I need to tell you is that one's status on Facebook should not be used for trivial, short-lived moments in one's day. "Making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich" is not an activity that is worthy of Facebook status. Are you aware of how many people eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Millions of people eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. In fact, there's a Facebook group about it called "Crust or No Crust." I'll warn you, though, most of their members are needy preschoolers, who still need their actions and personalities affirmed by their parents, but you probably know this seeing as you founded the group dedicated to all things lunchtime.

Brett, I really can't deal with all these aspects of your life. Can't you find someone else to validate you? Maybe someone in Manhatten or St. Paul perhaps. I just can't do it anymore. I have my own life to lead, my own sandwiches to eat, and my own teeth to floss. I can't worry about yours. I'm worn out, and if this goes on much longer, I don't even know if we can be friends. I'm not a psychologist. I don't have time for neuroticisms.

Love,
a Packers fan

PS I just got your text about your twenty million dollar allowance and that's great. What chores are you having to do? Are you washing the dishes? Walking the dog? Taking out the garbage? Cleaning your room?

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 5

Dear Brett,

I've thought about it, and our breakup really isn't that big of a deal. It didn't even crack John Cusack's top five all-time breakups list. Hell, I don't even think it cracks my top five, and just to prove it to you, here's my list:

5) My fifth grade girlfriend Ashley M. broke my heart over the phone. She moved to Oconee County after elementary school, so I was never able to truly find out why. That is until Amanda B. told me in seventh grade that Ashley M. broke up with me for not holding hands with her during recess. Apparently, I was too busy playing basketball and kickball to be the kind of man a fifth grade girl could depend on. In my defense, I still enjoy basketball and kickball and have no idea where Ashley M. even is. You hear that, Brett, you got beat out by someone whose whereabouts I haven't known for years.

4) Desmond Howard enters the list at this spot. I only knew him briefly, but he was so fast, daring, and confident; it was hard to take my eyes off him. He also won a Super Bowl MVP, unlike someone else I know.

3) Kelly Kapowski never returned my fan mail, which makes me think that Tyffanie Amber Thiessen did her best work on Saved by the Bell. On 90210, Tyffanie's true self came out when she played a word I won't type cause my mom might read this. Still, to this day, I find every girl named Kelly extremely attractive no matter what. Wow, Brett, there's room in my top five for a fictional television character, but not you, that's got to hurt. In fact, I never even dated her, Brett, and I bet she'll finally get around to writing me after she reads this, which will set off a sequence of events that ends in Kelly and I getting married and her wearing your jersey to bed every night.

2) Dean Smith, I understand you had to go. It was time, but I will forever look at the year 1998 and think what if you'd still been around. That's right, Brett, in 1998, I was thinking of Dean and not you, even if the Packers were in the playoffs.

1) Running, you were once a big part of my life. After my last race in high school, I took my spikes off and sat in the grass for a good while, contemplating where I'd gone wrong in all three of my events that day. I came into the meet ranked top ten in the state in all of them, yet somehow, I failed to qualify for states. When I finally walked to the team bus, I found a seat near the front, away from everyone. I didn't speak the whole ride home. The ride lasted at least three hours, and I just kept going over every step of those races. In some ways, Brett, it reminds me of that pass you threw against the Giants in overtime. How often does that throw run through your head? You know what I did the day after that race, Brett? I went running. What else was I going to do? What else could I do but try and race the ghosts into extinction?

I can see why you still want to play, but why do you have to go about it like this? What makes one person able to look at their regrets and move on and another person dig in? Brett, we're more than the sports we play. I hope you know that. If you let it go, then, eventually, it will let you go too.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 4

Dear Brett,

I just spent five days on a bender in Florida. I even tried seducing a fifty year old Puerto Rican woman, who owned a cigar shop, because in my stupor I thought she said her name was Brian Brohm.


I apologize if you received any drunken text messages from me while I was walking the streets of Ybor, outside of Tampa. Over some Cuban sandwiches and jalapeno poppers, I might have confided in my friend Andrew about our situation; it may have even turned into some poorly freestyled rap lyrics, peaking with the lines: "how far can I go without Favre?/ these other qb's signal barks/ sound like they're coughing up sars/ love hurts love scars/ I get so dizzy I see stars,/ and I'm not talking Bart/ I'm talking Brett 'you're our only hope' Death Star farts."

Brett, I'm just saying I need some time to think on this. I got back into Virginia today, and I checked my phone and email for the first time in days. My box was full, and each message was more confusing than the one before. You seemed to be making a lot of demands of me, and I'm not sure you're in that kind of a position. I do technically have rights to a lot of your contractual property, but I don't want to get into that.

We need to find a solution that we can both be happy about. I'm trying not to get angry. I'm trying not to involve other people. Let's keep this decision between the two of us, and for the moment, I won't mention Aaron or Brian if you promise not to mention Chicago or Minnesota. If you can agree on that, then I'm more than willing to sit down and talk face to face later this week. I just need to get my head right first and figure out what's best for me. Let's just take a step back and evaluate what each of us needs right now.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

P.S. Please, reconsider working out with high schoolers to make me jealous. Mind games aren't going to win me back, and there's a strange Michael Jackson with a football quality to the whole thing.

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part 3

Dear Brett,

I got your texts, and I'm now getting my number changed. We really can't do this anymore. I just wanted you to know, and I apologize if my texting you back led you on in anyway. It's over. Let's move on. I even released you on Madden. I can't make it any clearer than that.

Love always,
a Packers fan

P.S. Do you spell the contraction "you all" yall, y'all, or ya'll?

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter, Part II

Dear Brett,

I know this is tough, Brett, but why did you have to bring your brother and mom into this? My dad is a huge fan of yours, but he's staying silent on this issue. He likes you, but I think he's tired of how you're treating me. I just don't see why your mom has to be spreading our business all over ESPN. Plus, she's not even right on this issue. How have the Green Bay Packers and I shown you anything but love over the years?

We forgave the alcoholism because we know how tough that is; we've seen friends, family, and colleagues battle with the disease, and we know it's not easy. When you were kicking your Vicodin habit to the curb, I got my wisdom teeth pulled. The doctor gave me vicodin for the pain, but I didn't take it because I wanted to support you in fighting your addiction. I feel like I've been there no matter what, and it hurts to hear your mother question all the green and yellow love that's come your way over the years.

After games, didn't you come and tailgate with us in the parking lot? Didn't we do everything we could to support you when your father died? I know we understood when your wife got cancer. My papa died of cancer two years ago. Packer fans have walked laps for both of them. I just don't see why your mom has to go and cast a shadow on all the times we've shared, good or bad, because for better or worse we were always there for each other.

When your brother-in-law died suddenly from an ATV accident and your home state was hit by a hurricane, watching how you handled it with grace and optimism, keeping your composure, helped me to handle the sudden tragedies in my own life. If #4 could do it, then so could I; so why is your mom now questioning the love we had? Weren't we good enough for you? Let's just say good bye, Brett. There's no point in digging up the past. Let's just agree to keep this between us.

Love always,
a Packers fan

P.S. It wasn't all bad. In fact, the good far out weighs the bad we had. You did have a nice smile that made me at least think about buying a pair of Wrangler jeans.

A Brett Favre Breakup Letter

Dear Brett,

I was hoping we would be able to say good bye without it coming to this. I didn't want to write you a letter stained with tears and the sweat of a beer bottle, but you've left me no choice. We've had some great times. I'll give you that, and no one can take those away from us; but I think it's time we both move on. I mean, ownership already cleaned out your locker, so you really shouldn't be stopping by "just to pick up a few things." I know it's rough, but you wanted it this way. I'm just trying to give you what you asked for. Maybe, in a few years, we can meet up for some brats or something, but right now is just too early. I don't want to go through this all over again (and again and again and again and again).

You will always mean a lot to me. I feel like I grew up with you. I remember when John Madden couldn't pronounce your name, and winning nine games felt like a championship year. You always made me laugh with your crazy antics, playing hungover, drawing plays in the dirt, joking with Warren Sapp, and zipping the ball sidearmed. I probably won't see a quarterback like you ever again, and that's why this is so hard for me to write. I know what we had was special. I mean great loves like this only come around once, maybe twice, a generation. I know that, but the truth is I'm trying to move on.

For the last few years, you kind of hinted that you wanted out of this relationship, so I've been preparing myself. I knew this day was coming, especially when the team went 4-12 a couple years ago. Then, at the end of 2006, things started to feel like they did back in the '90s, and last year made me think maybe you should stay on the field forever, even if that meant taking snaps in a wheelchair. I was wrong though.

I let the records, the snow in hi-def against Seattle, and the memories go to my head. I started feeling like it was 1996. I started listening to my heart instead of my brain. I started believing in destiny and happily ever after's again, especially when the temperature was zero degrees against the Giants. I really started thinking we were going to go all the way. Beat the Giants. Beat the Patriots. We were like Antony and Cleopatra, Romeo and Juliet, or Rhett and Scarlet. The thing is, Brett, four of those six people die before their story ends and the other two wind up miserable. We don't want to wind up like those great love affairs, drinking poison and stabbing ourselves. We don't need to put ourselves through anymore overtimes where interceptions bite us like asps held to our breasts.

It's time we move on. You asked for it, and while I didn't like the news at first, I'm really trying to make it work with this Aaron kid now, and in the words of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young: "Do not let the past remind us of what we are not now." Brett, it's just time. Time for us to start new chapters with different characters.

I will always love you Brett, but I'm not in love with you.

Sincerely,
a Packers fan

P.S. At your age, the Madden Curse might kill you, so really, I'm just looking out for your well-being. It's for the better.