(Originally posted Nov. 1st, 2009)
As sports fans, we cant help but romanticize our relationships we have with professional athletes. We see ourselves in them. We reminisce over the great visions we once had for our own selves, despite our hideous lack of fleet and skill (i.e. yours truly). We savor in every victory, suffer with every loss, exhale with every good break, lose our cool with every bad call. Our collective intimacy, however, leads us down a tough road often fraught with trepidation and heartache. This state of punch-drunk admiration can strip some of the ability to let go, move on, and someday love another. Which brings us to the impetuous aftermath of the affair between Brett Favre and Packer Nation.
The people of Green Bay had trudged through an endless line of losers. They came and they went, weak-armed quarterbacks with no supporting cast just couldn’t live up to the lofty, often importune demands. Then there was Brett, a Cajun wunderkind with a great release, tough mentality, and a knack for winning. It was love at first sight. Together, they were rapt in a state of bliss and consistent offensive production. Brett gave 100% of himself, as well. He nurtured their feelings, quelled their insecurities, and gave them outstanding efficiency. For 153 straight games, he played with sore ribs, achy joints, unfathomable cold, and did it all with boyish spirit. And for that, he was greatly admired, deified, even. He was put on a pedestal and admired deeply. However, no honey moon lasts forever. Brett began to vacillate. The relationship began to grow stale, his heart wasn’t in it as it had been before. Packer Nation responded by growing increasingly despondent. Quietly, they developed a festering resentment. Soon, that gave way to rupture, and before we knew it, Brett and Packer nation were over.
Soon after, Brett found another. Realizing this was clearly just a fling, Packer Nation kept their jealousy internal. In due time, that union had hit the skids as well. Rumors began flying around, as usual, and it seemed that Brett was just too old for the game. Packer Nation, feeling heartily satisfied, caught a scent of that closure they had yearned for. Finally, they could move on and devote themselves to a promising new rapport with a young arm and great hair.
Then it happened, THEY happened. Brett had entered into a new accord with the hot franchise down the block. They had everything Green Bay did not. They were younger, quickly becoming more successful, and had an intimidating running game. All the emotion finally boiled over. Jaundiced and blushed with incredibly envy, Packer Nation went on a vitriolic spree. They just couldn’t believe the man they loved, unconditionally and endlessly, had betrayed them like this.
So today, we arrived at the culmination of months of hype, muck-raking, and high-pitched whining, all because they made it about them. Yes. Packer Nation made it about themselves. They felt so entitled, so hoggish, that they invested everything in themselves into one mans career. He was made to feel uncomfortable by management and left feeling drained by the fan base, and while he waffled for far too long, there was nothing else the man could do but leave. His career, his body, his desire was his, not that of thousands of rabid fans, and only he understood that.
Instead of letting it go, they nudged and perturbed like a drunk ex calling nonstop at 3 am. What did he do? He eviscerated them. Completely dismantled them, he did. He showed up at their house, constrained their new stud, said everything he wanted to say, and took the plasma screen and his favorite shirt back. On the way out, he slammed the door emphatically, while Packer Nation lay sobbing on a pillow of humiliation. All because they made it about them.
As sports fans, we cant help but romanticize our relationships we have with professional athletes. We see ourselves in them. We reminisce over the great visions we once had for our own selves, despite our hideous lack of fleet and skill (i.e. yours truly). We savor in every victory, suffer with every loss, exhale with every good break, lose our cool with every bad call. Our collective intimacy, however, leads us down a tough road often fraught with trepidation and heartache. This state of punch-drunk admiration can strip some of the ability to let go, move on, and someday love another. Which brings us to the impetuous aftermath of the affair between Brett Favre and Packer Nation.
The people of Green Bay had trudged through an endless line of losers. They came and they went, weak-armed quarterbacks with no supporting cast just couldn’t live up to the lofty, often importune demands. Then there was Brett, a Cajun wunderkind with a great release, tough mentality, and a knack for winning. It was love at first sight. Together, they were rapt in a state of bliss and consistent offensive production. Brett gave 100% of himself, as well. He nurtured their feelings, quelled their insecurities, and gave them outstanding efficiency. For 153 straight games, he played with sore ribs, achy joints, unfathomable cold, and did it all with boyish spirit. And for that, he was greatly admired, deified, even. He was put on a pedestal and admired deeply. However, no honey moon lasts forever. Brett began to vacillate. The relationship began to grow stale, his heart wasn’t in it as it had been before. Packer Nation responded by growing increasingly despondent. Quietly, they developed a festering resentment. Soon, that gave way to rupture, and before we knew it, Brett and Packer nation were over.
Soon after, Brett found another. Realizing this was clearly just a fling, Packer Nation kept their jealousy internal. In due time, that union had hit the skids as well. Rumors began flying around, as usual, and it seemed that Brett was just too old for the game. Packer Nation, feeling heartily satisfied, caught a scent of that closure they had yearned for. Finally, they could move on and devote themselves to a promising new rapport with a young arm and great hair.
Then it happened, THEY happened. Brett had entered into a new accord with the hot franchise down the block. They had everything Green Bay did not. They were younger, quickly becoming more successful, and had an intimidating running game. All the emotion finally boiled over. Jaundiced and blushed with incredibly envy, Packer Nation went on a vitriolic spree. They just couldn’t believe the man they loved, unconditionally and endlessly, had betrayed them like this.
So today, we arrived at the culmination of months of hype, muck-raking, and high-pitched whining, all because they made it about them. Yes. Packer Nation made it about themselves. They felt so entitled, so hoggish, that they invested everything in themselves into one mans career. He was made to feel uncomfortable by management and left feeling drained by the fan base, and while he waffled for far too long, there was nothing else the man could do but leave. His career, his body, his desire was his, not that of thousands of rabid fans, and only he understood that.
Instead of letting it go, they nudged and perturbed like a drunk ex calling nonstop at 3 am. What did he do? He eviscerated them. Completely dismantled them, he did. He showed up at their house, constrained their new stud, said everything he wanted to say, and took the plasma screen and his favorite shirt back. On the way out, he slammed the door emphatically, while Packer Nation lay sobbing on a pillow of humiliation. All because they made it about them.
(Update)
In light of Green Bays' recent Super Bowl triumph, I have to congratulate the franchine as a whole and further chide the fan base. In the months subsequent to this posting, Brett Favre went from an anomalous old-timer to a sexting, philandering punchline. Once a the Packers' knight in bacon-wrapped armor, he's viewed as something more of a middling relic. Because of his shenanigans, he'll never be held in the same regard as Bart Starr or Paul Hornung, and even Hornung had a reputation for being a dickhead at times. Moreover, he's likely to be eclipsed somewhere down the road by the once reviled Aaron Rodgers, and with good reason. Where Brett was bombastic and a theatrical spaz, Rodgers is Mr. Cool, has the most accurate delivery in the league, and most importantly, he acts like he's been there before. Mark my words, you'll never see Aaron Rodgers awkward penis on the internet.
No comments:
Post a Comment