Cowboy Quarterback to the Rescue!

EL HOMBRE KNOWS SPORTS

You have to hand it to the NFL. No other league in the history of sports is so adept at manufacturing interest and enthusiasm for its product as is America’s top sporting religion. You get the impression the Catholic Church could learn a few things from Roger Goodell and his droogs, the better to keep momentum going through that dry “Ordinary Time” stretch leading up to Advent. The confetti is still scattered on the turf at the Super Bowl site when free agency begins, and the signings conclude just as the Draft hysteria ramps up. Mini-camps and OTAs then keep the fun rolling through May. It’s a brilliant way to keep the NFL’s heavily-addicted fan base sated, a sort of athletic Methadone that prevents fans from rioting in the streets during the off-season.

But even with all the manufactured fun and year-round football craziness, there is one stretch that remains unfilled by official NFL activity. That’s the seemingly interminable six weeks before the opening of training camp, when players and coaches do unthinkable things like take vacations and rest up for the next round of carnage. No amount of baseball, NBA Finals drama or family excursions can make up for the emptiness fans feel as their primary source of sport goes dark, if only for a short time. And when the meaty men and big hitters emerge to smash mouths once again in the summer swelter, life begins anew.

The NFL tried to fill the gap with its Europroduct, but no fan could figure out what a Claymore was (it’s a Scottish great sword) much less why anybody wanted to watch a team bearing its name play bad football on a soccer pitch. It was enough to send fans scurrying to the CFL, if only to celebrate the fact that the confederation no longer had two teams bearing the same nickname: Roughriders and Rough Riders (R.I.P.). No matter how much effort the league’s broadcast partners put into manufacturing enthusiasm during June and early July, it didn’t work. As recently as two weeks ago, football fans were girding for their annual trip to the NFL desert by stockpiling old videos and trying to decide to which pre-season game they will bring their wives and kids. “Sorry, honey, but the real games are for real fans.”

Then, riding out of the humid fields of southern Mississippi came a rescuer. It was Cowboy Quarterback, sending out messages of hope. He requested his release from the Jets. He was only retired “for now.” He wanted to meet with the Vikings. He was texting Peter King. He hadn’t shaved in a month. He was tired of cutting the grass. He missed watching Chris Berman drool every time he said his name. That’s right, Brett Favre, retired man of leisure, was coming back. In typical Favre fashion, he wouldn’t come out and say it. There had to be hints and allegations. “Sources” told breathless reporters that Favre was playing catch with the pizza delivery boy. Meetings were on the books. Airline reservations were revealed. It was all so cloak-and-dagger but all so clear: Fans had a summer oasis, and there was much rejoicing.

Once again, Cowboy Quarterback had saved football.

Nothing is official yet, but it looks like that snowball-tossing, swashbuckling, record-breaking legendary roughneck is unretiring – again. Not content with his late-season meltdown last year with the Jets, the QB who has had one good year in his last four would be returning to lead the Vikings to the Super Bowl. Or at least that’s how his mythologists would be spinning it. After throwing 84 interceptions (versus 88 TDs) from 2005-8, numbers that would get most QBs a ball cap and clipboard, Favre and his torn biceps tendon want back in. Who cares if his 2 TD/9 int. performance in the final five games of ’08 helped cost the Jets a playoff berth and Eric Mangini his job? Favre didn’t get a chance to choose his own landing spot last year and now wants a chance to stick it to Green Bay by buying a house in the Packers’ neighborhood, the NFC North. Oh, nothing is certain yet, and nobody from the Favre camp will cop to anything. The official party line is that there’s no guarantee Favre will even play again. (In related stories, the Easter Bunny is announcing an Arbor Day line, Santa Claus will endorse Dexatrim, and Kim Kardashian is having breast-reduction surgery.)

Favre is coming back, all right, and the mayhem surrounding his decision, subsequent arrival at training camp and every move once he dons the Purple will be breathlessly chronicled by the same media sycophants who detailed his last two retirement proclamations. Those of us who reside in the realm of reason will be chugging Big Pink daily, in an attempt to settle our turbulent stomachs. Once again, Favre has hijacked the news cycle and convinced people that his overwhelming love of the game and devotion to the sport are leading him back to the game he loves. For that, we should all be delighted. Already, commentators are telling us he “deserves” the right to make this decision. And he does. Asking anybody to quit their chosen profession at age 39 is quite a demand to make. Athletes who make comebacks aren’t always selfish. They’re often desperate to stay in a world that they love and unprepared for a life away from it.

That may have been Favre’s motivation for last year’s comeback. This time, it seems as if he’s doing it for revenge. Angry that the Packers wouldn’t let him chart his own course last year, he is hooking up – allegedly – with the Vikings in order to stick it to Green Bay. Since GM Ted Thompson wouldn’t trade him to Minnesota last year, Favre is going to return from his self-imposed exile and make the Pack pay. He is acutely aware of the teams’ Oct. 5 meeting in Minneapolis and probably dreaming of throwing five TD passes Nov. 1 at Lambeau before a teeming throng of Packer Backers all wearing their Number Four jerseys.

Favre may well do that. He might lead the Vikes to the playoffs and beyond, although it’s unlikely he’ll repeat his 2007 performance, when he worked with a trainer from Athletes Performance Institute in preparation for the season. Favre is balking at having the surgery necessary to repair his injury and banking on his experience and attitude to beat out Tarvaris Jackson and Sage Rosenfels under center, hardly heavy lifting. We’ll have to see whether it’s enough to help Minnesota rule the North, or whether Favre’s bid for revenge falters. Either way, it’s going to dominate the headlines.

The NFL is counting on that.

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EL HOMBRE SEZ: The American Football Coaches Association is considering a move that will hide the identities of those who participate in the weekly coaches poll and return the contents of the final regular-season poll to its previous closeted state. Just what college football needs: more cloak-and-dagger garbage. It’s just another argument against the BCS, which seems more and more like a blatant money-grab by the big conferences every day…How about that perfect (13-0) home start by the Dodgers? Fans in soCal are so excited, they’re showing up in time for the home second…It’s hard to believe the feds are taking such a hard line against Detroit-area gamblers Gary Manni and Edward Karam, who are accused of trying to fix Toledo football and basketball games. With the southeastern Michigan economy in such dire straits, it’s good to see a couple entrepreneurs trying to get things rolling again. Not that their business model couldn’t use some help. Do you think betting more than $400,000 on Toledo hoop games in one calendar year might raise a red flag? In the future, fellas, choose a team that other people bet on. You won’t stand out so much…Somebody close to Celtics forward Brian Scalabrine needs to tell him that topping off a pasty-white, freckled complexion and fire-red coif with a headband just isn’t working. Dude, what’s next, a pocket protector?...If the Anaheim Ducks knock off both Detroit and San Jose in the playoffs, and Carolina ends up meeting Pittsburgh in the Eastern finals, the NHL will no longer be able to argue that its regular season means a damn thing…A couple days after proclaiming herself the best player in tennis, despite what the rankings say, Serena Williams was knocked out in the first round of the Italian Open by 20th-rated Patty Schnyder. You’re right, Serena, the rankings were off. You were slotted too high.

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YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The aftermath of the Sixers’ stomach-turning game-six loss to Orlando in the post-season’s opening round is messy and not prone to easy solutions. The coaching situation must be addressed, since the very thing that made Tony DiLeo so popular with media and club officials – his nice-guy personality – was his downfall as a coach. GM Ed Stefanski can’t miss on this one, because bringing in a retread (Collins, Doug) or novice (Wright, Jay) could be catastrophic. He needs someone with experience to steer the ship, and whether that’s Avery Johnson or Jeff Van Gundy is up to him. And after watching the team falter down the stretch and then show no heart against a Dwight Howard-less Magic team, it’s clear the roster needs more heft. Willie Green is not a starting two guard. Samuel Dalembert is awful. Do you pay Andre Miller $60 million over the next four years when he’s never been out of the first round of the playoffs? That’s a tough one. How about finding some people who can shoot the basketball from long range, and no, Donyell Marshall doesn’t count. Stefanski has a lot of decisions to make and without a lot of cap flexibility or free-agent options, it’s unlikely he’ll be able to recast the team. If he doesn’t bring in the right coach, it won’t matter whether Elton Brand is healthy or not. The Sixers won’t be going anywhere.

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AND ANOTHER THING: The hand-wringing over the A-Rod steroid mess is ridiculous, since he should be lumped in with all the others who played during this decade and the last as a probable cheat. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. The more troubling part of the story, if it’s true, is the allegation that he tipped off pitches to opponents during blowouts. This is something that goes to the heart of professional sports these days and feeds the opinions of fans and media that those who play have little or no concern about their teams or the games themselves. The amount of money involved in all areas makes the athletes mini-corporations and forces them to be concerned first and foremost with their health and statistics. A-Rod may be one of only a few who are tipping pitches, but he is certainly not alone in his contempt for the game he plays. As the economy continues to wrack the everyman and force teams to scuffle financially, the sustained behavior of A-Rod and his fellow athletes – along with beauties like $2,500 seats at Yankee Stadium – will help push their product further from the people who buy the tickets and lead us further toward a gladiator-style climate that rewards individual success at the expense of the whole.

-EH-