Peter King, COUNTDOWN geocities.com
Sports Illustrated, 10/30/95
[ I’m really not into sports that much. For historical and geographical reasons, though, I make one exception. This is an old story, but a good one. Almost the entire cast has changed from the time of this story, ‘cept for one guy. ]
On Oct. 16, Brett Favre of the Packers began preparing for Sunday's game against the Vikings. Almost from the moment that Favre lifted himself, slowly and painfully, from his bed, SI's Peter King was at his side--at home, on the practice field, in team meetings. King's chronicle of Favre's week takes readers into the head and heart of one of the NFL's best young quarterbacks.
MONDAY: The aftermath
It's just after 8 a.m., and Brett Favre cannot bear the thought of getting out of the four-poster bed he shares with his girlfriend of 10 years, Deanna Tynes. This has nothing to do with the previous night's celebration of his artistic 342-yard passing performance against Detroit, which consisted of a single light beer. This has everything to do with the throbbing turf toe on his right foot. And the right shoulder he had heard go snap-crackle-pop when it was jammed into the turf 20 hours before. And the lower-back pain he feels every Monday, the lingering result of a lumbar fracture suffered in a 1990 car accident. And the arthritis that he knows is advancing in both hips. And his aching right side, which is the worst of all his ailments. Ten months ago two sections of hard plastic mesh were sewn into the muscle walls in his right side just below his ribs to repair a herniated muscle, a belated casualty of the car crash. His doctors said the muscle would take a year to heal completely. Of course, Favre couldn't wait that long. And so he must try to ignore the grotesque, egg-shaped growth of plastic and muscle mass that protrudes from his right side. Most of the time he succeeds, except after games, when the side feels as if something is ripping inside him when he moves.
"Deanna," Favre pleads in his Mississippi twang. "Could you please get me an egg sandwich and some hash browns?"
Tynes goes out for some fast-food breakfast. A few minutes later Favre, still in bed, is propped up on his left arm, polishing off his meal. Eating triggers more pain. When he chews, his jaw aches from the brutal helmet-to-helmet hit he took from Pittsburgh Steeler linebacker Greg Lloyd in the preseason.
Finally Favre musters the energy to walk to the bathroom. His left knee is killing him. "God," he says to himself, "I didn't know I hurt that." Then he remembers the kick in the knee that he took from a Lion. He hadn't felt that one until now.
"When he gets up every Monday," Tynes says, "he looks like such an old man." Favre is 26. . . .
Before the quarterbacks leave for the day, Mariucci hands them their weekly five-page test in which a single element has been omitted from each of 74 different plays. The quarterbacks must fill in the missing information. Then there's a page of "Draw this play" questions, with six drawings required. Favre is correct on 70 of 74 formations--Detmer, the Packers' Einstein, misses three--and draws all his plays right except for a sloppily sketched split-end route.
Before he leaves for the day, Favre hosts a surprise 41st birthday party for Green Bay's mail clerk, Leo Yelle, who is developmentally disabled. The party stuns Yelle, who gets a game jersey from Favre and a duffel bag full of gifts from the team. Favre, the only player at the party, gives Yelle a hug and eats some cake with him. In one corner, two secretaries dab at their eyes.
. . .
"Did you see how Brett responded to every bit of pressure today?" Jordan says in the locker room. "He's our Terry Bradshaw. This is his team. He's the prankster. He's the leader. He's the man."
An hour later Favre is home. The pizza has arrived. The beer is flowing. Chmura, Winters and their wives are celebrating with guard Harry Galbreath. Brittany and a bunch of kids are playing Twister.
Favre finds a quiet room and sits for a minute. His left hip, left knee, right wrist and both elbows hurt, but his stubbly face bears the serene look of a man who has done his job well. |
