Favre's confusion

Brett Favre, at his Jets introduction yesterday, looked like a guy who never really knew what he wanted and got something he wasn't sure about. Because he never knew what he wanted, he never knew how to get it. Favre started floating the notion that he might be interested in returning to Green Bay earlier this year, not to his coach or his GM, but to randoms who could spread the word for him. The whole Favre un-retirement jumblefuck demonstrated Favre's lack of, brains, courage, honor and character. It wasn't until there was a significant groundswell of comeback support that he became visible, ready to stare down the Packers. And really, a return wasn't what Favre had in mind at all. Brett Favre, more than any other high-profile athlete I've ever seen, embraces the idea that the media makes the story; that the media sometimes makes stories out of nothing; that they are looking for the slightest chance, however absurd, to dress white players in a veil of heroic. So Favre talks to Greta Van Susteren, and texts Chris Mortenson, and tells the media Ted Thompson had to grovel to get him to avoid coming to camp, and it was all an attention-grabbing load of horseshit.

And now Favre comes out the unquestioned loser. He doesn't want to play football. He sure as shit doesn't want to play football for the New York Jets. He wants people to talk about BRett Favre. That's what he's always wanted. His reputation is tarnished. It's hard for even the "WWL" to throw enough frosting on the rock hard, burnt, made by my four year-old cake that is Brett Favre to make it edible.