How Will You Remember Favre?

It was a cold and windy night at Lambeau Field. I remember that night, sitting in my living room watching the NFC Championship game. Forecasters called it one of the coldest playoff games in NFL history. By kickoff, the temperature on the field was a miserable -20 degrees below zero. I also remember not feeling so bad for those in Green Bay, Wisconsin because Mother Nature had also hit us hard here in Great Falls, Montana that Sunday evening. We were dipping around -20 below with the wind chill ourselves. For some reason, the football gods were merciless to those victims both on and off the field in Green Bay. They weren't going to let the Giants and Packers finish their game in 60 minutes. Nope, we needed an extra period to decide the fate of the eventual NFC champs.

Just about everyone seemed to look miserable that night at Lambeau. If Tom Coughlin's face got any redder, he could have passed for a stop sign. Across the way, you could hardly see the face of Packers head coach Mike McCarthy he had so many garments covering his head. But McCarthy had a sort of ease on his face that night. He had Brett Favre, one of NFL's greatest quarterbacks.

Brett Favre normally thrived in these conditions. A week earlier, he had led Green Bay to a 42-20 romp over Seattle in a blizzard, playing one of his most inspired games in years. But not tonight. Favre actually looked vulnerable. Yep, vulnerable. I had never seen Favre look the way he did that night. His face said it all. The weather had gotten to the 38 year old.

I still remember that pass. I could almost feel as soon as it left Favre's hand that it was going to be intercepted. Green Bay's Super Bowl fate rested on the shoulders of their favorite player. And on that night at Lambeau Field, Brett Favre could not deliver.

He had done it numerous times before. Earlier that season, in a Monday Night Football game in Denver, Favre had orchestrated one of his greatest comebacks in his 17 year career, an 80 yard pass to Donald Driver in Overtime to win it. But not tonight.

The ball fluttered out of Favre's hand like a birdie in badminton on a windy day. Cory Webster was the hero for the New York Giant's defense that night. In the span of 3 seconds, Webster jumped in front of Donald Driver, who had already committed to his break toward the sidelines and picked it off. It wasn't Favre's best throw, or read for that matter. Most Packer fans can look back at the replay and watch Ryan Grant crossing into the flat, wide open. But like many times in Favre's career, he had commited to his read before the snap. However, unbeknownst to us all, it would be Brett Favre's final pass of his illustrious career. Of course, four plays later, Lawrence Tynes kicked a 47 yard field goal to win it for the Giants in overtime sending them to the Super Bowl. It would be our last memory of Brett Favre, but at least for me, it won't be my first.

How do you define a legend? Is it by records? Success? Trophies? Favre was a legend in his own right, but not by any of the reasons listed above. Brett Favre was a legend because he lived to play the game.

There are players, and then there are heroes. Most of us who watched football growing up can think of a player who we admired and dreamed of becoming on a Sunday afternoon in the NFL. If you grew up watching football during the 60's, maybe it was Johnny Unitas, or Bart Starr. Maybe you were somewhat of a rebel and loved watching Joe Namath deliver his own guarantee by defeating the Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III. How could we forget Bradshaw and Staubach of the 70's, and of course the 80's introduced us to Marino, Elway and Montana. But the 90's needed a new hero. And that's where Brett Favre stepped in. He was a Mississippi boy who didn't play the game technically sound. But he played the game right. He took chances that didn't always pay off. But he also took the chances that led the Packers to their first Super Bowl win in nearly 3 decades. Brett Favre played the game because he loved it.

You can't define a hero based upon quantative analysis. Sure, his stats are unreal. Favre will go down as the all-time leader in passing yards, touchdown passes, completions, most wins by a starting quarterback, most consecutive starts by a quarterback and most MVP's won by a single player. But he also threw for more interceptions than any other quarterback in NFL history.

What about trophies? In 17 seasons, he won a Super Bowl, something Dan Marino never achieved. But his one Vince Lombardi trophy ranks him in the same class as the likes of Brad Johnson, Doug Williams, Mark Rypien, Trent Dilfer and now Eli Manning. Even former Packers quarterback Bart Starr holds the record in Green Bay with two Super Bowls.

So, how do we remember Brett Favre? Where does he stand in the All-time quarterbacks list? I, for one, have never seen another player enjoy playing the game as much as Brett Favre. He defined himself in a league that was quickly running out of heroes. There was no player like Favre before him, and there is no player like him today. He was the ultimate innovator. No play was ever over as long as #4 was in the pocket. He threw underhand just about as much as he did overhand at times. Some of the greatest NFL games I ever saw featured Brett Favre playing on one side of the ball. While he's considered as the NFL Iron Man, I can remember numerous times he cried on television. In a Monday Night game against the Raiders following his father's death, Favre threw for nearly 400 yards and four touchdowns, accumulating nearly a perfect passer rating. And then following it all, we saw him break down on national TV, and watched him cry in front of a millions of viewers. Just a year later, we watched him put together another incredible season on the field, while his wife battled through breast cancer. But through it all, football became Favre's release in life. He played every game like he was a kid again. He played through it all, even pain. I remember watching him one season play with a broken thumb and come back in another twice after suffering two different concussions in the same game. It seemed like nothing could keep Brett Favre off the football field. Until today.

I won't remember Favre for the stats, or his one Super Bowl ring, or even for that cold Sunday night at Lambeau Field. I will remember Brett Favre as a Mississippi boy who grew up into a man before our very eyes. A man who defined his love of the game every time he stepped onto the football field. A man who every kid aspired to be at one time or another. That's how I'll remember Brett Favre. But I guess the question still remains. How will you?