HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
There will be plenty of ink, real and digital, spilled dissecting Brett Favre's boneheaded play last night---you know, the one where he was running around having fun like a kid on a sandlot and throwing the ball to the wrong colored jersey---so I don't want to beat a dead horse.
Who am I kidding? I want to beat it into horse tartare with a flail tank, then dress it in purple, douse it in kerosene and light a match.
In August I published this post, which read in part:
"Today we hear of another re-re-re-un-re-un-retirement by Brett Fah-vre. So he found a way to skip camp AND start for an NFL franchise. How nice. I won't be burning my number 4 Jersey. But let's just say I'll enjoy no small amount of schadenfreude when the Vi-Queens' season ends on a Favre interception that the guy selling lutefisk in the parking lot saw coming. "
Substitute "gumbo" for "lutefisk" and I suppose I was right on the money. And of course now I just might burn the jersey. But perhaps that's unfair.
I occurred to me that Brett is like George Lucas. He gave us one great season, and one almost great season (Star Wars and Empire). He then stumbled and bumbled through some embarrassing seasons that were entertaining, but that I could have done without (Return of the Jedi). We missed him when he went to the Jets but really didn't care much and generally wished him well (the years between Part VI and Part I). But then in a quest for more money and stats that he didn't need, and fame he didn't quite deserve, he betrayed us. He went and took a giant shit on all we held dear. (Phantom Menace, etc.). But do we really hate George Lucas for all that? Or do we try to forget and remember the good times? Well, in 4's case, his wetting the bed on national TV . . . again . . . kinda makes it easier. I watched his post game comments with no small amount of schadenfreude. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a tiny, a very very tiny, bit of pity as he stood there bruised, limping and exhausted. Why, Brett? Why? Was this Jar Jar Binks of a season worth it?
On a more statistical note, I wonder if the folks at Elias Sports Bureau can tell us the record for quarterbacks whose last throw of the season was an interception. In the meantime, the Trolls at http://www.coldhardfootballfacts.com/ have a swell feature on the last decade of Brett Favre's heartbreakers. So check it out.
There will be plenty of ink, real and digital, spilled dissecting Brett Favre's boneheaded play last night---you know, the one where he was running around having fun like a kid on a sandlot and throwing the ball to the wrong colored jersey---so I don't want to beat a dead horse.
Who am I kidding? I want to beat it into horse tartare with a flail tank, then dress it in purple, douse it in kerosene and light a match.
In August I published this post, which read in part:
"Today we hear of another re-re-re-un-re-un-retirement by Brett Fah-vre. So he found a way to skip camp AND start for an NFL franchise. How nice. I won't be burning my number 4 Jersey. But let's just say I'll enjoy no small amount of schadenfreude when the Vi-Queens' season ends on a Favre interception that the guy selling lutefisk in the parking lot saw coming. "
Substitute "gumbo" for "lutefisk" and I suppose I was right on the money. And of course now I just might burn the jersey. But perhaps that's unfair.
I occurred to me that Brett is like George Lucas. He gave us one great season, and one almost great season (Star Wars and Empire). He then stumbled and bumbled through some embarrassing seasons that were entertaining, but that I could have done without (Return of the Jedi). We missed him when he went to the Jets but really didn't care much and generally wished him well (the years between Part VI and Part I). But then in a quest for more money and stats that he didn't need, and fame he didn't quite deserve, he betrayed us. He went and took a giant shit on all we held dear. (Phantom Menace, etc.). But do we really hate George Lucas for all that? Or do we try to forget and remember the good times? Well, in 4's case, his wetting the bed on national TV . . . again . . . kinda makes it easier. I watched his post game comments with no small amount of schadenfreude. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a tiny, a very very tiny, bit of pity as he stood there bruised, limping and exhausted. Why, Brett? Why? Was this Jar Jar Binks of a season worth it?
On a more statistical note, I wonder if the folks at Elias Sports Bureau can tell us the record for quarterbacks whose last throw of the season was an interception. In the meantime, the Trolls at http://www.coldhardfootballfacts.com/ have a swell feature on the last decade of Brett Favre's heartbreakers. So check it out.
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