I can say this because I’m a Brett Favre fan, but honestly, even a diehard like me is going to get tired of what will surely be an endless stream of praise, congratulations and all around bro-mance around his retirement.
I just feel bad for all you non Favre fans. Because, believe me, this is gonna be rough. If you thought you had endured as many down-home-good-ole-boy-aw-shucks-I’m-from-Kiln-Mississippi-Huck-Finn-analogies as you could possibly handle, this week is going to test the limits of your fortitude. It’s not going to test you in a mildly annoying way like a fly landing on your nose, but this is going to test you in a Pulp Fiction, gimp mask kind of way. This is going to make you wish you were in Iraq. I defy you to turn on ESPN in the next week. You’ll be begging — BEGGING — for steroids/Roger Clemens/Barry Bonds/Who’s Now instead of Favre.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.