Tuesday, March 4, 2008

A Farewell to Arms


The fabled career of the Gunslinger is officially over. After 17 years in the NFL, Brett Favre: Green Bay Packer and football immortal announced yesterday, his retirement from the game. Favre was a mythic figure--his passion, his skill, and his heart were Mufasian. And the boyish sense of adventure, the thrill-seeking, backyard football mentality which articulated his Gun Slinger approach to the game--never conforming to proper mechanics, or fundamentally sound quarterback decision making, Favre played the game in his own, imperfect, beautiful way.

Rarely, if ever has there been such a figure in the context of modern sports. Clint Eastwood meets Tom Sawyer, and on the hallowed grounds of Lambeu Field no less. And never has such an athlete captured the imagination of sports fans at such an enormous scope. Regardless of who you are, you at very least respect Brett Favre—most of us, including myself love him in that crazy sacred connection true American sports fans have with athletes.

But is Favre completely without precedent? Or does he have a parallel in the sport of basketball? It’s difficult to assess given the NFL’s considerable popularity advantage over the NBA—but is there a player today who both plays with the attitude of the Gunslinger, and means as much to his respective game as Favre? Let’s examine.

(An aside. Larry Bird in his own time was Brett Favre. Immensely popular, gifted, spirited and a symbol of integrity to his communities in Boston, Indiana and the game of basketball, Bird played with the same kind of playground arrogance and recklessness that made Favre so great. They were both from rural communities, and they both adopted their professional cities well, and both were revered by the sports world. Upon further thought, Charles Barkley is in this category as well. A genuine, shoot from the hip character who most everyone agrees they can love. Barkley is also from the south and had a highly unconventional game—never before was there a guy on the verge of the seriously chubby label, but dominating with such great speed and athleticism.)

Kevin Garnett is the first candidate that comes to mind because of his passion, his intensity and his unalterable basketball bushido. A young Kevin Garnett, who they used to call The Kid, playing for fun as much as he played to win, the Favre label might fit. But since the Kid has grown up into The Big Ticket, Garnett has lost the innocence that Favre maintained remarkably throughout his 17 years of play. Garnett has become defined by his intensity over anything else and is more of a Samurai than he is a Gunslinger.

Allen Iverson is another guy who qualifies under the heart category, and his play on the court does defy convention, much like Favre’s did. But AI doesn’t resonate with the culture at large the same way #4 did.

In their universal appeal, both LeBron and Dwayne can match Favre—but they both seem too God-like, too imperfect for a Favre metaphor. Their relationship with the media is too professional, and nowhere near as candid as Favre.

Dwight Howard has the fun-loving spirit that almost perfectly matches Favre’s demeanor, He’s incredibly talented, but is he unconventional enough? My radar points to no.

And so this brings up the only remaining logical candidate: The incomparable Steve Nash of course. Both Favre and Nash harness the power of irrational play making, and a gambler’s attitude. Both have excellent reports with the media, able to somehow always have them on their side, and not coincidentally, they are both the people’s champions—loved by many, respected by all.

The difference however lies in their intellectual make up. One is at heart a country boy, and a blue-collar maverick genius—a wholesome Slick Willy, if you will. The other is a cosmopolitan neo-progressive, who falls stylistically somewhere between Tony Hawk and Ronaldhino. One grew up playing American sports (I’m guessing Favre at some time in his life played baseball) and the other, truly global sports. To make a mathematical analogy, Favre is an square, Nash is square root.

It’s an interesting dichotomy that makes for a perfectly imperfect comparison. For a guy whose legend is based partly on his imperfection, and his honesty about it, maybe imperfection is just the right fit.


No comments: