Hell, I knew what you were talking about, Brett - I had said the exact same thing three days earlier...
It's no surprise Brett Favre announced his retirement from the National Football League only days after my wedding. I was actually on my honeymoon when I heard the news, and to be honest it came as no real surprise. We were both lauded, albeit weathered veterans, having left indelible marks on our fields of endeavor.
Sure, many questioned how much lead we had left in the pencil while others went as far as to suggest we should have hung it up long ago.
But Brett and I, we both knew we possessed the physical ability and endurance to soldier on in our respective arenas. But what we lacked - and this is the only thing, mind you - is that one key essential: the desire.
A decision like this one stems not so much from submission as it does mature reflection. There comes a point in any storied career when the time is just right.
You simply look yourself in the mirror and say, "You know what, champ - you've had a pretty good run." When Favre caught wind of my hanging up the proverbial cleats, he obviously took it as a sign to do the same.
As previous columns will document, I've been a Green Bay fan my entire life. When a dashing young upstart named Brett Favre started taking snaps in place of the Don "The Majik Man" Majkowski, I was a freshman in college. And although we'd both made pretty good names for ourselves in the early days, suffice to say our careers took off from there. But after a legendary campaign, I had decided the time was right and took my walk on Friday, February 29, bidding the game farewell. Following suit, Favre let it leak he intended to do the same the following Tuesday.
Looking back we'll always have the stats, the records, the trophies. We'll never forget the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. There were the wins, the losses, the streaks, the injuries, the fanfare and overall adulation. That's always going to be there, and no one can ever take that away from us.
But in fairness, why shouldn't we walk away? There are eager youngsters out there who've been waiting years to take our place, hoping to achieve but a small slice of what we've accomplished. Honestly, some might consider it selfish, perhaps even gluttonous, should we keep going at this point. Despite our having indisputably earned the right to decide our own destiny, what more do we need to accomplish?
So we step aside. We walk off the field, leaving it far better than it was when we found it. Those who saw us play can tell their children, even their grandchildren someday. And the rest of the world can simply read about it.
"I know I can play but I don't think I want to," says Favre. "It's been a great career for me, but it's over." I hear you, Brett.
"As they say, all good things must come to an end. I look forward to whatever the future may hold for me." Amen, brother - now go home to your warm and loving wife. As for me, home will be a Frozen Tundra after mine reads this...
Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/bitter bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Hudson Current and websites in the New York Metro area. He spends a lot of his time either in front of or behind the bar in Hoboken, New Jersey where his tolerance for liquor grows stronger as his tolerance for society is eroded on a daily basis. Feel free to drop him a line at firstname.lastname@example.org.