An Open Letter to Brett Favre

I must admit I watched today's NFC Championship game with some ambivalence. You see, I'm a Colts fan. But I'm also a Favre fan. I've never been a Packer fan. Certainly not a Jets or Vikings fan. Just Favre. The first football game I watched in its entirety was the Packers win against the Patriots in Super Bowl XXXI. So, I've been a Favre fan longer than I've been a Colts fan.

So, I did not relish the idea of having to choose between cheering for the team I pull for all year or the old quarterback, most likely taking his last shot at the big one. But by the end of the third quarter, I was pulling for you. I wanted you to go all the way. I wanted the Super Bowl, still two weeks away, to end up with a made-for-TV-movie ending with everyone doing the slow clap that gradually speeds up and gets louder with you finally being hoisted onto your teammates' shoulders, all the while, you looking around the crowd to meet the eyes of your beloved wife. But that's not what happened...

I imagine that even now, less than a few hours since the Vikings' loss to the New Orleans Saints, sports talk show hosts, analysts and bloggers are discussing the big question: Will Brett Favre retire? And if he does, will he stay retired? They will analyze and criticize. They'll mention the final play in regulation time, citing that even a rookie knows better than to throw a pass back across his body that usually results in an interception, which it did for you. They'll forget to mention the many other fumbles of the night by your teammates, a couple of which were in the redzone that should have resulted in points, not turnovers. They'll have experts discuss if your ankle injury was the reason you chose to throw that ball, rather than run it a few yards to get it into field goal range. And most of the country will decide... it's time for the big horse to go out to pasture.

But whether you stay or go, a decision that I hope you make with your wife and with God, I will be cheering for you.

You don't play for the money. You're a multi-millionaire many times over and I'm sure those Wrangler endorsements will keep coming.

You don't play for your ego. We've seen you struggle with an addiction to pain killers.

You don't play because you're an elitist. We've seen you as a husband whose wife is battling cancer, a disease that effects rich and poor, famous and nobodies.

While you play for your fans, you don't play because of them.

You play because you love football. Pure and simple.

It's seen in the fact that you just cannot leave even though we all keep telling you to go! I see it when your team's defense is on the field and instead of resting on a bench, you are on the sidelines, pumping your fists and hollering your lungs out. It's seen in the chest bumps and high fives you give to men half your age at the end of a great play. And it was seen tonight in the look of utter sadness when Hartley's kick went through the uprights, ending your trip to the Super Bowl.

It was not a look of disgust, regret or anger. It was sadness. Because I think you knew then, you were standing on a football field as a professional player for the last time. I think you missed the game already.

Sports writers will continue to deliberate. We'll all wait. Some of us will be happy if you return. Some of us will roll our eyes and sigh, "Oh, brother! Not again!" And there will be talk that if you retire now, you'll be going out while you're down. But absolutely not. I'd like to mention you got further than 28 other starting quarterbacks did this season. Tom Brady did not go to a conference championship. Tony Romo and Eli Manning did not go to a conference championship. You did. You are at the top with the likes of Peyton Manning.

So here's to you, Brett Favre. You are America's quarterback.