The Favre Connection

Sean Gregory of TIME examines the relationship between Brett Favre, Wisconsinites, and our Packers.

He writes:

It's not that I didn't believe; I just needed to see it for myself. And there it was, bobbling square on the church windowsill. Before this year's NFC Championship Game between Brett Favre's Green Bay Packers and the New York Giants, I traveled to Green Bay to try to capture the singular bond between Favre, the legendary quarterback who announced his retirement on March 4, and the NFL's company town, where Packer football is more than a Sunday pastime. Driving along Packerland Drive in the -7°F (-22°C) chill, I pulled into the parking lot of Beautiful Savior Lutheran Church, to glean some insight into whether football really is religion in Green Bay and Favre the heavenly Father. I sat in the office of an avuncular pastor, Steve Witte, who shared some concerns that fans had called a reverse on their priorities. There were the shuffled services and the canceled choir practices to accommodate Packer kickoff times. But Pastor Witte knows whence he serves. On his sill stood two sacred bobbleheads: one of Martin Luther, the other of Brett Favre.

We'll probably never see this relationship in pro sports again. Big-league teams aren't owned by the community, as the Packers are, and don't play in small market towns like Green Bay, an icy industrial city of 100,000 nestled in northeast Wisconsin. Big-league quarterbacks don't throw like Brett Favre — for 275 straight games (including the playoffs) over 16 years, an all-time record 61,655 yds. He threw it hard and threw it wild — a record 288 career interceptions — through searing pain, prescription drug and alcohol addiction, deaths in the family. We'll never forget Monday Night Football, 2003, 399 yds. on the day after his dad died, a memorial of spirals.

Big-league players and tiny towns don't bear-hug each other the way Favre and Green Bay did. On the field, Favre gave Green Bay thrills, chills and a Super Bowl. Off the field, his foundation helped disadvantaged kids in the place where he worked and in his home state of Mississippi. Post-Katrina, groups of Green Bay volunteers have trekked down to Favre's hometown of Kiln to assist in the rebuilding effort there. "For a boy from the South, he was one of us," says Jo-Ann Mikulsky, 55, a Green Bay homemaker. "He was our quarterback. He gave us all the leadership you can ask for."

After Gregory gives some specific examples of fans and their allegiance to Favre, he concludes:

Sure, it could all pass as creepy at times. But in today's sports world, in which athletes are harder to admire, you have to envy the connection between Cheeseheads and Favre. Football, and sports, are worse off now that he's gone. And though the Giants had a riveting run to the championship, I wish I could have soaked up Green Bay on a night that Favre led the Packers to a Super Bowl. I mean, is anyone less deserving of a more horrid final moment than Favre? His last fling sailed right into the hands of Giants cornerback Corey Webster, setting up New York's shocking win.

Long after that game was over, past midnight, I wandered over to a Green Bay sports bar, expecting tears on tap. But you never would have known the Packers had lost: fans in Favre jerseys were drinking, dancing, carrying on. Green Bay can accept a loss. "Titletown" bid goodbye to the great Bart Starr once; it will move on without Favre. It'll be odd though. "I can't imagine the Packers without him," said Olson, the nice lady from church who has been following the team for 76 years. "Can you?"

What strikes me about Gregory's piece is that he definitely is on the outside looking in. It's difficult to understand if you weren't born with green and gold blood.

Gregory ventured into Packerland to see for himself if what they say about Titletown is true. He needed to be convinced that this wasn't a fairy tale, the great NFL myth.

Although he professed belief, I think at first he doubted. Then he saw and believed. Then he admits to being somewhat creeped out. In the end, he is envious.

He should be.