Three years since my last post. Not exactly the way things are supposed to work in the blogosphere. I would hardly have believed it if, back in 2007 someone would have told me Brett Favre would have still been a contender for the Super Bowl in 2010.
But I have been jubilant every year since then when he has come back for another season (whatever the uniform), and telling myself at the end of each season, that was enough. It's okay if he retires. Silent gratitude and the admiring of his skills, charm, endurance and perseverance.
At the beginning of the Viking Saints championshop game last Sunday, I was in the inner revelry again, trying to savor the present tense of his being alive on the stage. Coming out strong and driving for a touchdown.
And then the pounding began. The brutality of the Saints pass rush. I have to admit to acting a little "Mommy" when he gets sacked. There is my intake of breath and the hands clasped to the mouth.
He took a big hit to the midsection, having been driven to the turf, and the Vikings fumbled on the play just after that, and still he dove into the pile for the ball. But wait. Truth be told, Favre was not the first one to the scene, and I thought I saw him watching (waiting?) to see if his teammate, who was already sprawling ahead for the ball, was going to get it. Then, only went he missed it, did Favre jump in there. Was that brief hesitation significant? I don't recall ever seeing it before.
Even after that he was accurate. And even after he was twisted between two flying defenders and carried off the field, he came back. Foot taped up and limping, he was accurate. ... uh.. Right until the interception which sealed the possibility of a win in regulation.
This is not about whether or not Brett Favre will come back again. He already has.
