The tears? Nah, the weeparama didn't bother me. We all knew the guy cared, so if he needed to go all Alan Alda on us the other day, no problem. It didn't make him any less of a manly man in my eyes.
Now then. Brett Favre was a very accomplished football player. There will be no discussion needed when his name comes up on one of those Super Bowl Saturday mornings on which the Hall of Fame nominees are evaluated. It will be an acclamation "yea" vote, and that will be that.
All I'm asking is that on Induction Day in Canton, he simply be allowed to walk to the microphone. I'm afraid ESPN, Fox, and CBS will provide a throne and 20 bearers, all given the honor of carrying St. Brett to the podium after winning a contest essay on why Brett Favre was the greatest American of the late 20th and early 21st centuries.
I mean, geez. The guy was good, but he wasn't that good. He surely wasn't a Top 5 all-time quarterback, and is barely in the Top 10. And I'm inclined to agree with both my friend Charlie Pierce and noted sports author Allen Barra when they stoutly maintain that Brett Favre wasn't even the best Packer QB ever, let alone the best QB, period.
There. I've said it. Cheesehead alert: Get started on the Bob Ryan voodoo dolls. Or Bob Ryan/Charlie Pierce/Allen Barra voodoo dolls. We're ready for you.
Please. Doesn't somebody else out there agree with us? Was there no one else put off by the ongoing canonization, and re-canonization, of Brett Favre during the 2007 season? Yes, he had a good year. Yes, he's always been fun to watch. And, yes, it would have been nice if he could have had a Last Hurrah Super Bowl. But in the end, I was Favred out, and I'm pleased we won't be subjected to another NFL season dedicated to the proposition that football life without St. Brett isn't worth living.
Oh, sure, some of his numbers are overwhelming. Most yards (61,655). Most completions (5,377). Most touchdowns (442). Most wins (160). Very impressive.
But the number that defines him is 253, the number of consecutive starts he wound up making after becoming Green Bay's No. 1 quarterback in Game 4 of the 1992 season. Check that. Throw in 22 playoff starts, thus bringing the Iron Man total to 275.
Be suspicious of consecutive-game streaks. They invariably become ends in themselves. They wind up stroking the ego of the player involved rather than serving the true needs of the team. Would both Cal Ripken and the Orioles have been better served had he taken a day or two off at various stages of August and September, lo those many years? Of course. It would be ridiculous to suggest otherwise.
Even the sainted Lou Gehrig allowed himself to get caught up in the majesty of his own streak to the extent of allowing himself on occasions when his back flared up to serve as a leadoff man who was then removed from the game after his only at-bat. I'm certain that similar consecutive-game streaks in both basketball and hockey were often similarly counterproductive.
We are supposed to admire Brett Favre because he took snaps in the demanding game of pro football despite such injuries as a separated shoulder, a deep thigh bruise, a bruised hip, a sprained right thumb, a broken right thumb, elbow tendinitis, a sprained lateral collateral ligament, an ankle injury, and, of course, the inevitable concussion, just to enumerate some of his documented ailments.
Yes, he was rodeo tough. Yes, he was a phenomenal competitor. Yes, he did amazing things on afternoons and evenings when he was really hurting.
But are you seriously trying to tell me he didn't play on many occasions when he should not have? Are you seriously trying to tell me that it was always better for the Packers to have him in the lineup, rather than a healthy quarterback who might actually have thrown a better pass, or, more to the point, might not have thrown an ill-advised pass? Brett Favre came to feel that he was indispensable, and he wound up holding Mike Holmgren, Ray Rhodes, Mike Sherman, and Mike McCarthy hostage to The Streak. In these matters, great players are never saved from themselves, and it inevitably winds up hurting the team.
It is difficult to arrive at any conclusion other than this: Were not some of those 67 interceptions he threw between 2003 and 2005 the result of a physically impaired QB trying to make plays he just wasn't physically capable of making? In evaluating a quarterback, don't foolish picks matter? (Would you care to guess who is the all-time INT leader?)
We can understand why Brett Favre was so popular in Green Bay and the state of Wisconsin. But he was big everywhere, the reason being that he was more than just a talented player. He was a legitimate Star, and the team-oriented NFL has precious few of those.
People came to love Brett Favre in the manner of NASCAR fans adopting their favorite drivers. Coming from a rustic small-town Southern background (Kiln, Miss.) is always a good start. Coming back from rehab (painkillers and alcohol) is a humanizing touch. The aforementioned physical toughness is always a welcome character trait. And it always helps if a quarterback can convey the impression, however false and misleading, that every touchdown pass is the result of a play he has just concocted in the huddle, or, even better, the result of a complete deviation from the official script. You could see he truly loved to play, and that was very endearing.
People loved the whole package, and that's fine, because people must be allowed to love whomever they choose. In the case of the networks, he offered a built-in story line. Hence, Thanksgiving comes, and it's "St. Brett vs. the Lions." But in bestowing this unconditional late-career love on Brett Favre, they created the impression that he was a better player in a historical context than he actually was.
For openers, were I a Packer booster, and my team was playing one game to keep me from being enslaved by Minnesotans for all eternity, my starting QB would be Bart Starr, if for no other reason than I'd be very sure my QB wasn't going to throw the ball into triple coverage while escaping a rush with the game on the line. To me, that's just common sense.
Beyond that, I cannot rank Brett Favre much higher than 8 all-time, and that's just among the guys whose NFL careers began after 1970. I would definitely place John Elway, Joe Montana, Tom Brady, Peyton Manning, Dan Marino, Troy Aikman, and Steve Young ahead of him. Oh, and was he really better than either Dan Fouts or Warren Moon? Then you enter into another generation from the '50s, '60s, and '70s that includes Otto Graham, Johnny Unitas, Norm Van Brocklin, Y.A. Tittle, Bobby Layne, Roger Staubach, Fran Tarkenton, Terry Bradshaw, Sonny Jurgensen, and, of course, Starr. Favre was better than some of these guys, but not all. And if you really want to get historical, consider Sid Luckman, Sammy Baugh, and Frankie Albert. Let's just say Brett Favre should be honored to be in their company.
Brett Favre was a fine quarterback. But we've known better ones. That's all I'm saying.
Bob Ryan is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at ryan@globe.com.
