Bold and daring, superhuman Favre retires — on his terms

The last time we saw Brett Favre, he failed. In overtime of the NFC Championship Game, playing for a storybook return to the Super Bowl, Favre threw a dangerously bad pass — by no means the first of his daredevil career, but likely the last — and New York Giants cornerback Corey Webster intercepted it. About two minutes later, the Giants kicked the winning field goal.

"I didn't rise up to the occasion," the legendary quarterback lamented that day.

Now that Favre has announced his retirement, we're left with this ending. Our sentimental instinct is to think how sad, what an inadequate conclusion to a sterling career. We can't help wanting the great ones to exit with roses between their teeth.

Ponder Favre's football folk tale more deeply, however, and this goodbye seems suitable, perhaps even lyrical. It's imperfect, perilous, unforeseen, raw, real.

Like Favre.

He's the last free-will sports superstar. He did things his way, always. We are amid an age of manufactured, rehearsed, endorsement-enthralled stars who are spry on the field and plug Sprite off it. They are subdivision celebrities, all alike, unwilling to risk being different.

But Favre, he couldn't resist being himself, even when he would've been better off going vanilla. In him, we saw everything: excellence, talent, hard work, persistence, guts, stubbornness, ego, compassion, weakness, strength. Failure. Success. At times during his 17-year NFL career, it felt like we were psychiatrists and Favre was on our couch, revealing all his layers.

He managed to be human and superhuman all at once. Sure, Favre was blessed with tremendous athletic gifts. He possessed a strong arm, nimble feet, an incredible football IQ and unbelievable pain threshold. Even with all that talent, his knack for survival proved far more impressive.

For a three-time most valuable player who owns most every major quarterbacking record, Favre sure did bleed. He was vulnerable. He nearly died in a car accident in college. He used to drink too much. He became addicted to Vicodin and spent 46 days in rehab. His wife, Deanna, battled breast cancer. His father, Irvin, died of a heart attack, and while mourning a day later, Favre threw for 399 yards in a "Monday Night Football" game.

Favre is the NFL's all-time leader in career passing yards, victories for a quarterback, touchdowns and interceptions. He's thrown some ugly picks in his career, made some truly awful decisions, and to many, the flaws only enhance his legend. They reflect how badly he wanted to win.

We're programmed to believe that insanely gifted people don't have to be gamblers. They're supposed to play it safe and let their ability guide them. In sports, there are all kinds of phrases that allude to restraint: playing under control, letting the game come to you, harnessing talent. Favre spilled all his talent on the football field, splashed in it for a while and then discovered greatness. He took more risks than he needed to, and it helped him become even better than originally forecasted.

Eight years ago, Favre was having a terrible season. He wound up completing less than 60 percent of his passes. He threw only four more touchdowns than interceptions, and this poor showing came after a year in which he threw more interceptions than touchdowns. His Packers were equally mediocre. It looked like Favre had lost it.

I was working in Philadelphia at that time, working on a story about Pro Bowl selections. I asked Eagles safety Brian Dawkins for his Pro Bowl quarterbacks, and Dawkins mentioned Favre first.

"What?" I asked. "Why Brett Favre? He looks horrible."

"Man, I don't care about the numbers," Dawkins replied. "He's the best. You can't deny Brett Favre. He's always dangerous."

Over the next three minutes, Dawkins rattled on about Favre, always referring to him by his first and last name.

"He'll always have my respect," Dawkins said.

Favre was never terrible; he was bold. We revere risk-takers because we all wish we could be so daring. We all wish we could do it with the flair Favre displayed.

"The passion with which he played the game has made everyone a Brett Favre fan," Packers general manager Ted Thompson said Tuesday.

And the growth. Can't forget the growth. To go from human to superhuman, Favre had to overcome his shortcomings. He could've easily boozed himself out of the league. He could've been too reckless to succeed. Instead, he adjusted and became an American icon.

"The thing that impresses me the most is what kind of a man and leader he has become off the field since I have known him," said Seahawks coach Mike Holmgren, who won a Super Bowl with Favre in Green Bay. "I have taken great joy in watching him develop as a person and father — perhaps even more so — than as a coach watching his quarterback."

Holmgren knows how headstrong Favre could be as well as anyone. Which is why there's so much speculation that the quarterback will make a comeback. He's 38 and coming off a spectacular season. He's still got it. And how will he react next winter when he realizes no one is talking about him anymore?

A return is quite possible, but Favre wouldn't do so because he craves a fairy-tale ending.

He would do it merely for the challenge, and if he flopped, well, Brett Favre has never been afraid of a little failure, has he?

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com. For more columns and the Extra Points blog, visit seattletimes.com/sports