National Football League

Hope Favre didn't stay too long

Published Dec. 14, 2010 12:00 a.m. ET

Jason Whitlock

Let’s hope we don’t live to regret Brett Favre’s “streak” the way we have Muhammad Ali’s last major fight, the 10-round bludgeoning delivered by Larry Holmes.

It’s obvious now. Someone should’ve stopped Brett Favre. His 2010 season was a catastrophe.

The collapse of Minnesota’s Metrodome perfectly symbolizes Favre’s 20th and final season. The legend Vikings owner Zygi Wilf showered with millions to spur momentum for a new stadium tore down the franchise.

Begged into a return, dogged by a two-year-old sexual-harassment scandal, frustrated by a coach who would eventually lose his job, let down by the receiver of his dreams and battered by unsympathetic defensive players, Favre couldn’t answer the bell for Minnesota’s 13th round.

Despite a momentary stay of execution from Mother Nature, Favre’s record consecutive starts streak ended Monday night at 297.

It should’ve halted 12 games earlier.

The sporting gods blessed “The Old Gunslinger” with his throwback season a year ago, much the same way they allowed “The Greatest” to avenge his loss to Leon Spinks a year before Ali tempted fate and reached for a final payday against Holmes.

“It’s football and boxing, gentlemen. The Gods will not save you.”

The price for staying a year too long in the ring or on the football field is far more significant than overstaying your usefulness on a baseball diamond or basketball court. Willie Mays and Michael Jordan briefly tarnished our memories of them hobbling around in Mets and Wizards uniforms.

Favre and Ali suffered damage that extends well beyond the Vikings' disappointing 5-8 record and Ali's one-sided defeat.

Who knows? Maybe Ali’s Parkinson’s disease was inevitable and already taking hold within his nervous system long before Larry Holmes thrashed him for 30 minutes.

We know this: The fight didn’t help.

We know the regret we felt watching Ali attempt what we quickly realized was foolish and impossible, a byproduct of our selfish desire to see an old legend recapture his youth.

If you read this column space regularly, you know that’s not an I-told-you-so statement about Favre. It’s an admission of guilt.

I wanted Favre back on the field as much as anyone. I believed in the fairy tale. I thought he could once again defy Father Time, skip all of the offseason training, shake off all the old injuries and walk on water for 16 weeks.

I rejoiced when Jared Allen, Steve Hutchinson and Ryan Longwell flew to Mississippi and talked Favre out of retirement. I thought he could coexist with Brad Childress for one more year. I thought trading a third-round pick for Randy Moss would revive Favre’s long ball and spark the Vikings. And, eventually, I came to see Jenn Sterger and her handlers as bumbling, money-hungry, no-class opportunists.

I feel stupid now. Not for the Sterger flip-flop. I feel dumb for not contemplating the health toll Favre might pay later in life for his ill-conceived Super Bowl Hail Mary.

He missed the game against the Giants because his sprained shoulder caused his hand to go numb and turn purple. He has a bum ankle, an inflamed elbow and a chin that required a dozen stitches. That’s just this season. That’s just what we know.

We’ll never know what all he did and endured for 19 years to play 297 games. We’ll never know how many concussions he suffered.

The thing to do today is celebrate and glorify his “toughness.”

But I can’t.

I’m not going to denigrate it or call it stupid. I just can’t celebrate it, either.

We need to be careful. We’re just figuring out the consequences of head injuries. We’re just now taking the time to comprehend the price old football players pay for being “warriors” or “tough guys.”

Maybe “the streak” wasn’t worth it. Maybe Peyton Manning shouldn’t chase it. Maybe the NFL should quit thinking about an 18-game schedule.

What if Favre spends his retirement years suffering the way Earl Campbell has? The way Muhammad Ali has?

I know that’s all conjecture. But there’s a chance some kid who is dreaming about being as tough as Brett Favre is reading this and that kid won’t lie to his parents, his coach or a team doctor about an injury just so he can play a meaningless game.