A lot of people don't like him because of the retiring/un-retiring thing he went through in the past. All I can say about that is that he was offered opportunities to come back to the only job he has known...for millions of dollars..and to play the game that he certainly has a passion for.
I'm not a huge fan of Favre's. I don't have a shrine constructed honoring him (like I do Larry Bird), but I do like him. Sure, he gets a ton of coverage...almost to the point of being sickening but that is not his fault.
I like him because he represents what is good about the game. Favre is simply one man on a team of 45-50, who must blend and contribute to the success of that team. But there are a couple of qualities about him that one would want, as a teammate and a fan.
The guy hasn't missed a game since 1992. Not a single game! This is the NFL, where guys are ginormous and fast and mean and, in the case of Ray Lewis, murderers. His streak of consecutive games began when Carson Palmer was 13 and Peyton Manning was 16. That is a teammate you can rely on to be there (unlike Big Ben..ask Hines Ward about that).
He is the most prolific touchdown producer in the history of the NFL. He holds countless passing records. One day after his father died of a heart attack, he threw for 4 TD and nearly 400 yards. He is a Hall of Famer and put together a near-MVP year at 40 years old.
I just happen to think we are living in a golden age of the NFL, especially when you look at the quarterbacks. Favre and Peyton Manning (possibly two of the best to ever step onto the field. Tom Brady, despite the fact that he attended Michigan and maybe even Kurt Warner...these guys are legends in their own time.
So now that I'm done kissing Brett's butt, enjoy the video linked below.
"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwGC9yjvRBk"
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Very rarely am I equipped with a pen and paper to jot things down that rattle through my pea-sized brain throughout the day. Luckily, I had one ready when my youngest daughter fired this question off to me recently.
She was asking about the podcast 3 Monkeys and a Football that me and some buddies do ( (shameless plug).
She asked, "Why doesn't Papaw Skip do the show with you guys?" and I answered a simple "I don't know."
She thought for a second and said, "It's probably because he's too old and doesn't know the words."
That kid cracks my ass up...Doesn't know the words...arghh, I just want to bite her!
Speaking of kids...and don't we all LOVE hearing people ramble on about their kids? (as I throw up in my mouth a bit...I made a point while at work that I'd never be one of those people that drone on and on about their children because, honestly, most people don't give two shits about your kids. A little tidbit here and there is fine though I guess.)
Anyway, since this is my blog, I'm gonna talk about them anyway. I would like to formally give my two older children a Shout Out for getting excellent grades this period. A big WHOOP WHOOP to you fine young ladies. My oldest is cursed with my same struggles in Math. I might as well have been reading Chinese while trying to do math...I hated it. She struggles too but I am proud to say that she got all A's and B's this time! Way to go girl. As for my middle one...she merely knocked out another round of straight A's! She's a good student and, I just found out, an excellent writer. On a cold and rainy saturday afternoon, she sat down at the computer and typed a two-page story...all by herself! I read it and it's amazing. Of course, parents always tend to see their kids' accomplishments as something bigger and better than they may be, but objectively, I'm astonished at how well written it is.
The best thing about the story? It's title is "The Poop Ball" and features a story about a rolling ball of poop that engulfs everything in its path. She's smart, cute, tiny, precious...and writes stories about rolling balls of poop. Man, I love my kids!
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My wife is easy going. Enjoys a great laugh and a good time. And while she certainly can make deep observations about life in general, she rarely...unlike me...blurts them out.
One comment, in particular, stuck with me and I thought I should share it. To give you some context, this comment was out of the blue, and stated as fact..which is why I find it so humorous.
We're standing in downtown Troy at some event she dragged my lumpy ass to. On the street, an old El Camino passed by. We all kinda' just watched it drive by and then she plainly said, "You know, the El Camino is the mullet of cars." I nearly cried. That statement is so simple yet so eloquent.
The mullet haircut, with it's long "party" hair in the back and its short "business" stylings in the front match-up squarely with the El Camino vehicle. The car that is, well, just a car...but features a WHAT?! a truck bed on the back for hauling stuff (most likely a load of adoring chicks). That guy probably said to himself, "You know...I don't really want a big bulky truck because I like to drive cars. But occasionally, I find myself needing to haul 4x8 sheets of drywall around and I need the convenience and accessibility of a truck." Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the El Camino which, in Spanish means, "The Camino".
I also found her quick comment about the guy we passed who was operating a machine with a giant claw that reaches down and picks logs from the ground and loads them on the truck. The wife says, "I'll bet that guy is really good at The Claw game at BW-3s." I drove another half mile before the sheer genius of that statement soaked into my mushy brain. Yes, I'll bet he's the Babe Ruth of the Claw Game.
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My brother calls me the other day. His voice is low and somber. He says, "We need to talk about Dad.". Instantly, I'm a bit concerned and ask what is the matter.
"He just told me that he watched American Idol last night." My brother was concerned that dad had "lost it" and had moved over to the Dark Side by watching such a terrible show. Now, don't get me wrong...I was as shocked as anybody to find out that both my mom and dad watch American Idol, but I had to admit something to my brother at that moment..."I watch it too!".
I enjoy me some of that there Idol, especially in the early episodes. The horrible singers, the emotional stories (which always, by law, must include one single-mom trying to "make it" so her 3-toed kids can someday go to college)and the brutally honest Simon are fun to watch. My dedication to viewing American Idol drops as the talent level raises. The later rounds are littered with people that sing thinking that if they modulate every note, it makes them sound better. You know who is to blame for this? Patti Freakin' LaBelle...who screams and over-accentuates constantly. Her singing sounds like a burlap bag full of cats being prodded with a pointy stick. Horrible.
The reason I bring Idol up is that I'm trying to relate it to sports. I heard a little something about this the other day and it made me think. See, I know a few people that absolutely despise sports. Whether it be football or basketball or whatever...they just hate sports. (Editor's note: It is perfectly normal and acceptable to hate all things about Soccer)
But I heard a comment a week or so ago and it really made me think...and it ties in with American Idol, oddly enough. It was said that American Idol "works" because it isn't really about the singing. It's about the "story" of the singer. We enjoy the human drama that unfolds for each contestant. That bad feeling you get for the singer that has to walk through the door to his family without that prized Golden Ticket or, conversely, the smile that creeps across your face when they walk out that door and jump into the arms of their family after making it to the next round.
I think we all like to watch people do well, but I think we also kinda' like to see some folks crash and burn too...just a little bit.
And this is the same exact thing for sports. It isn't necessarily about the game, but it's about the story of that game and the characters that will take part in it. The incredible exuberance of your team scoring/winning is such an uplifting thing. If you've ever watched a game where all you want is for one base hit to score the winning run, or a simple 30 yard field goal to go through the uprights, or a last-second halfcourt shot to swish through the net...and it happens...and how that moment can give you a feeling like no other, well, I don't think there's anything quite like it.
My fourth grade daughter received the basketball the other night in a game she had. She dribbled a few times, stopped, shot..and made a basket. The feeling in my gut the moment that ball went through the net and the expression on her face as she ran back to play defense was priceless. Her face was struggling so hard to hold back both a smile and her sense of accomplishment that it was seemingly about to burst. We BOTH struggled to keep a smile from coming out. That, my friend, is the beauty of the game.
And for every triumph and success, there can be an equal amount of disappointment. Just ask me...after all, I root for the Bengals and Reds. Every year finds me going through a ton of emotions. Often it starts with a positive outlook. In the case of my Reds, Hope Springs Eternal, and the Reds have just as good of a shot to win it all as everybody else. By the end of May, I'm disgusted as they stumble and do all they can not to be passed by the Pirates. August arrives and suddenly, they catch fire and I have a new found hope...a hope that is completely extinguished by September. The Bengals? I know they're going to piss down their leg and exhibit the typical assbaggery that I've become accustomed to.
Why would I have any interest in the recent Vikings vs. Saints game the other day? I follow neither team and could really care less. But as one watches the game, I think we all lean to one side or the other. I like Drew Brees (quarterback of the Saints, former Big Ten player) and generally like the Saints as they have never been to the Super Bowl before. But about midway through the second quarter, I officially threw my allegiance to the Vikings. Two things turned me to instantly hate the Saints. The first was the fact that all their fans say "Who Dat?". Get it? It's "cajun" and it's like they are saying "Who do they think are going to defeat our Saints?" Wow...this sounds oddly familiar. Oh yeah! The freakin' Bengals invented "Who Dey" 142 years ago. Who Dat? Who Dat? Is that the best that cesspool of humanity can come up with? Nobody steals from the Bengals! (mostly because..well..why would you want to steal anything from the Bengals).
Reason number 2 why I now hate the Saints...because (and I KNEW it was coming) they'd have to bring up Hurricane Katrina. You just know the television engineers spent the entire week cueing up slow pictoral montages of the city underwater and the SuperDome housing the citizens.
You think the incessant coverage of Brett Favre (a man that worked hard at his craft, sacrificed and excelled long after the typical shelf-life of an NFL quarterback) is too much? You ain't seen nuthin' yet! You will be bombarded with slowly-scrolled sepia-toned Katrina images set to Sarah McLachlan music and forced to feel compassion for that tidal shitbowl of a city and it's criminal citizens. Guaranteed there won't be footage of the looting or the people shooting at rescue personnel. GO COLTS!
(deep breath)
See? Exhibit A of how sports are about the back-story and the cast of characters more than just about the game on the field.
Have a good day everyone. Check back often. Please leave comments/questions, ideas for the next issue. Thanks!
2 comments:
like it, love the mullet watching and would buy an el camino if I had just that much disposable income to just be funny!
write more and often. love it.
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