by Dino Corvino on July 15th, 2008
I feel strange writing about Brett Favre. I have not wanted to really ever write about sports, save the for brilliance of Bobby Bowden or the metaphysical brilliance of Roy Jones, Jr., but I have had enough. I have had enough of this constant onslaught of this man and his never-ending string of manipulation at the expense of the people of this great state. Just a few months ago, I stood in County Market, and I cried. At 37, I cried as we all listened to the press conference played over the PA. Grown men stood unmoving while our hero stepped aside.
Then I came to my office and put off working to write a post thanking Brett for his time, that it meant something more than sports to me. The memories of watching the first touchdown in the Superbowl, sitting with my now passed father, watching something bigger than just a football game. This guy — we all believed him to be our hero. No matter who you are, no matter how cynical you are, everyone in this state was happy for the run of Brett. We were all glad that this dude was our quarterback.
But this run is over, and it ended badly. I am angry, not for anything related to football, but because I think Brett lied to me, lied to us all. He was our gunslinger, our beer-drinking, stubble-having, good old boy who just liked to play the football, just liked to get out there and mix it up every week. Brett was never in too many commercials here in Wisconsin, and we never thought he was a big time football star like the others. He was not in a ton of ads like Peyton Manning or dating supermodels and getting actresses pregnant like Tom Brady. He was just one of us, as likely to be at the fish fry at the VFW as he was to be in the gym working out.
All that is done. It’s over. Tonight this guy took the time to go on Red State News (Fox) and spin his tale. He has had his minions out there doing the media work for him, pushing the Green Bay Packers, our team in so many ways, into a corner. The ultimate diva move, this is Scottie Pippen demanding a raise or he would leave and break up the Bulls, this is Kobe demanding in so many hints that Shaq needs to go.
We need to remember that Favre is, in fact, not one of us. Well, he is not one of me anyway. He is a multimillionaire who lives in another state. He makes more money on interest each month than I make all year. This agent, while having the nickname Bud, is in fact a high-powered agent. This is not some dude who is making calls from the cab of his straight truck while he is driving a Frito Lay route.
The Packer News blog here on Citizen Wausau has all sorts of facts. Serious discussion about this stuff, and I will leave that to him as he does a good job. I just want to try some of my own facts though.
1. This dude Favre retired. A willing choice as HR people will stipulate.
2. This guy Favre had years remaining on his contract worth a ton of money. So he could have returned if he wanted to.
3. When one retires, it is like quitting a job.
4. In the NFL, when one retires, you are put on the retired list, but still remain a member of the team. So you cannot retire, and just go play wherever you want, as that would be a shady business practice.
5. Favre has had some second thoughts to the retirement thing, BUT …
6. If one wants to unretire in the NFL, one can, and return to the team one retired from. You simply need to petition the NFL for reinstatement.
7. BUT … Brett clearly did not want to ask for reinstatement. He could have had his lawyers and agents send that letter, or his assistant could have done it.
8. Brett did not want to do that. He DID NOT SEND THAT LETTER. HE DID NOT WANT TO RETURN TO THE PACKERS.
9. Instead he sent a letter demanding his release. He did not want to return to the Packers. He wanted to be released to go play for someone else.
He did not want to return to the Green Bay Packers. He wanted his unconditional release so he could go play somewhere else.
That is what it was. This man, this multimillionaire wanted to go play a game somewhere else. He wanted to move on and leave the Green Bay Packers. This hero did not want to stand in the room and work it out with Packer management.
As far as the act of retirement goes … I would love to have the chance to sit down with my boss, QUIT, and then a few months later decide that I wanted to come back and do the job. I would want them to fire the dude who was doing my job, and let me do it again. Maybe I would do it all year, or maybe I would get it in my head to retire again.
I know I want the chance to flip-flop with my employer as to whether I would want to come back and do my job. I know I would like it better that way. The ability to hold my employer hostage is cool.
Let us not be moved by the mouth moving of Brett Favre. His is just the mouth of another multimillionaire athlete, prepped and coiffed like Terrell Owens or a repentant Randy Moss. Brett Favre has become the thing that we have all thought he was not, the superstar athlete. Not one of us. Not one of us.
I am sorry, Brett. You are a gazillionaire, and for you, the people of Wisconsin have become emotionally battered. We want to love you, but I must tell you that because of my anger at your actions, your selling out of your own legacy, I cannot see you anymore. You are not our gunslinger; you did not walk into the sunset like John Wayne.
You drove into the sunset in your Escalade, to the private plane of the Packers, and they flew you back to where ever you live. Then your assistant, who probably makes more than me, picked you up at the airport in what I assume was not an old pickup. Your assistant drove you to your multimillion-dollar house, where your multimillion-dollar agent and attorney met you to go over your post football strategy.
You are not John Wayne. John Wayne did not send him mom to do his bidding, or his brother, or someone holding up the memory of your father. John Wayne would have stood up on his own and asked on his own. You sent your mom to radio, your brother or uncle or whatever folksy person you wanted to send out there to sound salt of the Earth.
I hope you stay retired, Brett. But more than that, I hope you at least to cop to being a rich guy. This was a sad manipulation, Brett. This was terrible. You pulled the heartstrings of good Wisconsin people on purpose, with the intent of lashing out at management. This is Wisconsin. These are people that lived and died for you, man, and you jerked them around like so many wrestling fans. You are guilty of that, Brett.
I am going to go back to cheering for Florida State football. I want nothing more to do with this crap.
by Kari Rasmussen on February 6th, 2008
This was made in jest and is full of unfair generalizations…enjoy!
Since starting work downtown last year, I have been baffled at the omission of sidewalk etiquette. I have proudly lived in the area for most of my years, but for some reason there is general confusion on which side to walk on. There are obstacles (read: people) that may toss this rule to the wayside. Just a few examples:
The Power Packs: During the lunch hour rush, groups of people like to walk together. I understand the pack mentality; it has been around for years. But when 3-4 business people are bogarting the entire sidewalk, they are not leaving me with enough space to continue my stride. I am a fairly diplomatic person – give a little, take a little – but should one have to step in the snow and wait while this clan goes on a Panini hunt?
Languid Lovers: I personally approve of simple forms of PDA; the thought of showcasing your admiration for another human being via the clasping of hands is charming. My issue is when they actually make eye contact with you before the inevitable pass, and they choose not to adjust their conjoined swagger to make room for the fellow pedestrian.
Truffle Shuffle: (I have always wanted to use the phrase Truffle Shuffle in conversation, a la Chunk from The Goonies) This is the person who at initial glance is following the rules; they appear aware of the invisible line that splits the sidewalk in two. Their head is upright and confident, and then BAM! A diversion! (This could be in the realm of another person, a loud noise, etc.) They cross the center line. It sounds innocent enough, right? But now an awkward dance ensues, insincere glances of apology are exchanged and both are left clumsily stumbling back to their positions.
Meandering Mommas/Daddys: As a mother myself, I like to think that I am conscious of the space around me when I have my kids in tow. Although my children are past the stroller age, I noticed a disturbing trend of Cadillac-sized strollers that unavoidably take up 15% more than the allotted sidewalk lane. A simple solution would be to stop for a brief moment, while letting others circumvent your adorable child on wheels.
Bikers: A bike is a vehicle. Vehicles belong on the road. ‘Nuff said.
I hope we can all realize the errors we may have inadvertently made in sidewalk etiquette. I do offer one tip: STAY ON YOUR RIGHT SIDE. This is for the betterment of our community and my mood.
by Dino Corvino on January 8th, 2008
Today apparently marks the end of Scott Street Pub, for real. No hope. The talking is over. The walls will fall. I guess I have no idea what happens next. All this talk of the city growing and prospering, and what direction we are going on, made me look at the way our city treats people. (more…)
by Dino Corvino on January 1st, 2008
As I sit here on this New Year’s morning, lost in the love of my keyboard, I am faced with questions, and answers, and predictions, and more questions. So I thought I would jump in the pool first, and be the first idiot to take on our virtual Polar Bear Plunge of 2008. A veritable cacophony of randomness brought on by long hours of no work, loss of mental stimulation, and overall sitting still for way too long. (more…)
by Dino Corvino on October 31st, 2007
I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.
Kurt Vonnegut
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by Melissa Sullivan on October 15th, 2007
An Open Letter to the Presumably Young Vandals Who Smashed My Kids’ Pumpkins
Dear Miscreants,
A few days ago, we took our kids, ages 4 & 2, to Helene’s Hilltop Orchard to choose pumpkins to carve into their first-ever jack-o-lanterns. The kids went on a hayride that we thoroughly enjoyed while other passengers endured my son’s excited shouts about being driven by a real tractor. After enjoying a snack of apple dumplings and chocolate milk, my sugar-fueled kids ran around the pumpkin patch while Grandma helped them choose the perfect pumpkin. It was just the type of perfect fall day I had envisioned three years ago when we moved our kids here from the over-taxed, smog-ridden, crime-infested cesspool I fondly call Milwaukee.
Those yet-to-be-carved pumpkins were on our porch less than 12 hours when you reckless bandits smashed them to pieces in our driveway.
While my four-year-old helped me clean up the mess the next morning, she asked me repeatedly, “Mommy, why did the mean people do this?” Hmm…good question, indeed. You’re probably the same misfits who threw an egg at my neighbor’s car last week. But what makes a teenager, who not ten years ago was carving their own jack-o-lanterns, want to mar the Halloween experience for other kids?
Young delinquents such as yourselves often like to put the blame on society. Your lives are entirely controlled by adults, and society doesn’t send positive messages to your generation. You’re not allowed to skateboard in public, and you’re treated like a criminal when you walk into a store carrying a backpack. With all of the reasons you find to feel put down by society, I guess I’m supposed to be grateful you just smashed our pumpkins instead of shooting up your school.
Or maybe your concerns are a little less idealistic and a little more selfish. Your mom won’t buy you the Hollister hoodie you want, or the girl you like totally trashed you on MySpace.
It’s also possible you smashed my kids’ pumpkins for no other reason than you wanted to feel brave and look cool in front of your friends. If that’s the case, then it’s pretty rich that in the midst of your cowardly run from our yard, you tripped on the ropes holding up our big inflatable pumpkin with such force that you ripped them from the ground and knocked it over. I’m guessing when you were sprawled out on my lawn face-first, looking pretty much like a moron; your friends had a good laugh at your expense. I would have paid to have seen that, but I arrived on the front porch about twenty seconds too late.
After pondering all of these reasons for your deviant behavior and trying to come up with something to tell my 4-year-old, I realized that I didn’t really have any good answers for her. I just told her that sometimes people make bad choices without thinking of others feelings. I told her that when she has a choice to make, I hoped that she would remember how it feels when people do mean things to you. As she grows, we’ll continue to have talks about personal responsibility so she learns that while being mistreated by others is an unfortunate part of the human condition, perpetuating the misfortune by mistreating others is not a productive solution.
Maybe you don’t have parents who will have these talks with you, or maybe they did and you just didn’t listen because your parents are so, like, uncool. At any rate, I hope you had fun, or whatever it was that you were hoping to experience, with the whole pumpkin smashing experience.
Sincerely,
Yet Another Ranting Adult You Won’t Listen To
