Last week, the Earth rattled, rivers ran red and ESPN’s Ed Werder briefly caught fire.
The Minnesota Vikings signed Brett Favre.
The Internet promptly imploded under the weight of heavy-handed sports journalism. Sports Illustrated’s Peter King wandered out into the desert on a vision quest, and Fox’s Jason Whitlock began uncontrollably stamping his feet and shouting sexist slurs — a sign he’s either angry or in heat.
But one thing seemed to go unmentioned amid all the hand-wringing: Favre, even if he weren’t a battered and paranoid shell of his former self, would still be a trinket from a bygone era.
In his prime, the stubbly Wrangler pitchman was the perfect example of our quarterback mythology: big, white, polite and largely immobile. Draped in the American flag, Favre would drop back, bounce around and gun one out into the ether. The Packers would win, and freedom and democracy would be safe until next Sunday.
At least that’s how I remember it.
But the days of corn-fed meatheads like John Elway and Troy Aikman are coming to a close. The NFL, like all sports, is forever marching forward in terms of speed and athleticism. Look at Brian Urlacher — linebackers are bigger and faster than ever. Look at Cortland Finnegan and Nnamdi Asomugha — corners can run, jump and pass rush like never before.
Not to be outdone, NFL offenses have followed suit, and thus came the wildcat formation. If defenses are faster, stronger and better-prepared than in the past, what happens when their opponents try to scramble their brains by snapping the ball straight to a running back?
And that’s pretty much the future of the league: hyper-skilled athletes trying simultaneously to trick and trounce one another. It makes for great television.
Presumably, the Minnesota Vikings know this. Furthermore, calling the Vikes “a quarterback away from the Super Bowl” has become such a tired talking point that it’s now engraved somewhere at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. With all that in mind, the Vikings enter a summer dominated by two free-agent quarterbacks and take the rickety, red-faced one.
Taking Favre over Michael Vick is like picking a hang glider over a stealth bomber. Vick is the former poster child for the evolved NFL: quick, strong and terrifying to opposing defenses. Imagine the 2009 Vikings with him onboard: a wildcat offense with Vick and Adrian Peterson in the backfield while Bernard Berrian goes long. Defensive coordinators would bleed from the ears.
The big knock on Vick was always his passing ability. And the legend of Favre is that he could throw a football through the eye of a needle. Numbers, however, provide some clarity. Last season, Favre threw 22 touchdowns and 22 interceptions. In his last full season, Vick chipped in just two fewer touchdowns but nine fewer INTs.
And then there’s the running game. Before getting locked up, Vick rushed for 1,039 yards in the 2006 season. The longest run of Favre’s career is 40 yards, and that was 14 years ago. Last year, he rushed for 43.
In short, Minnesota dashed a bright future with hopes drawn from a misremembered past.
But where does that leave Favre, that aw-shucks slab of the good old days? As annoying as his daytime TV routine has become, you can’t really blame the old gunslinger. He, like many athletes, is convinced he’s the greatest ever, and if someone wants to pay him a gaggle of money to suck at football, why shouldn’t he take it?
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Thankfully, there’s no shortage of karmic justice in sports. In this case, it’s the Minnesota Nostalgics going 7-9 and the Philadelphia Futurists winning the Super Bowl.
