Brett Favre, rough and tumble quarterback of the Green Bay Packers and New York Jets and spokesman for classy Wrangler Jeans, is having his manhood questioned in some corners.
It seems as if Brett Favre is not only the all time NFL leader in touchdowns and interceptions, he is also the proud leader in hugs and piggyback rides (among other things), often carrying, against their will, some of his lighter (read: firmer) teammates on his back as well as having gleefully hopped on the backs of his warm, lovable linemen a total of 245 times as of the end of the 2008 season. There’s reportedly also archived footage of him attempting a reach around (while on the back of Frank “Poppy” Winter) and then realizing at the last moment that he was actually on the football field and not his hotel room.
Roger Goodell, NFL Commissioner and man on a mission to clean up the NFL’s image, has denied the presence of these damning photos as they seemingly tarnish the image of Saint Favre. However, Out magazine is reportedly willing to spend top dollar for these photos.
According to sources within the NFL, Favre, who always had latent homosexual tendencies according to his wife Deanna, found a willing outlet for his man love in the person of Reggie White whom the Packers picked up as a free agent in the early ‘90’s.
Favre and White were roommates in training camp until Reggie White retired from the NFL. Coincidentally, after White retired (and they ostensibly never shared a bed again), Favre began his downward spiral as an effective NFL quarterback. Part of this was due to his addiction to pain killers, which he began taking by the handful to dull the pain of White’s departure. His statistics, never great, though he always had a lot of TD passes, worsened to the point where they were mere pedestrian stats. Long after the point where most quarterbacks would lose their jobs, puzzlingly the Packers kept Favre as a starter. According to Fox News, this was because it was thought that demoting Favre would further damage his already fragile psyche and that he would then, in a fit of rage, come clean to the media and reveal the true nature of the term “cheese head” as well as the numerous Packer bromances and epic circle jerks.
Shortly after White announced his retirement, Favre, who was illiterate, finally learned to read after receiving advice from his therapist. During the 3 years it took Favre to learn to read, his on field performance remained subpar. He attempted bromances with Mark Chmura and Ross Verba, but none could fill the large brown void left behind by White. Finally, after getting through the Dick and Jane series to the point where he did not have to read them haltingly, Favre was handed a gift from his therapist: a book. This would prove to be a gift that kept on giving. The book was Wyoming Stories by Annie Proulx. One story in particular touched Brett Favre: Brokeback Mountain.
In this book Favre found answers to many of his questions. He took refuge in the comfort he received from the realization that he was not the only cowboy who liked other cowboys. He learned the real meaning of cowpoke. He learned how to love a man and be proud of that love. In essence, Favre learned that there was no scratch that couldn’t be itched by the right teammate, and for many years that teammate was Reggie White. But even though there were many, many ‘right teammates’, sometimes there’s a wrong one and the last wrong one was not a teammate, but a coach.
Mike McCarthy, all 350+ lovable, lumpy, soft pounds of him did not rock Favre’s world. For a time Favre, for the first time since they were teenagers, actually showed his wife Deanna some affection, which is testament to how depressed he was during this period of time. McCarthy was forced to take up with some lesser Packers which then shifted the balance of power in the clubhouse.
Sometimes Brett Favre would crack jokes to his teammates. Sometimes these jokes were in borderline retarded broken Creole English; most of the time they were in some kind of lovable gibberish that was endearing to both his teammates and most of the residents of Green Bay, Wisconsin for reasons unknown to most of America. Many times Favre is inadvertently funny. His drug addiction spurred this along. Sometimes when he wasn’t being funny, he just looked funny.
Often on the sidelines his linemen, tongues wagging, would gather in an impromptu circle approximating the private circle jerks they conducted with Favre always offering a complicit smile. Other times they would simply engage in raucous, sweaty tickle fights.
In conclusion, Brett Favre is that most elusive of supermen: both hero and homo.