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Brett Favre confronted his moment of truth on live television this week.
In a farewell to the Green Bay Packers and NFL, Favre's tortured soul was stripped naked, his 10-minute speech dotted with tears, sniffles and uncomfortably long pauses. His bouts of silence said as much as his extraordinary words, many of them spoken through a cracking voice.
For 17 years, Favre was the toughest hombre in the NFL, and on the day he left the league, he was reduced to sobbing child. Here was a giant of professional athletics shedding his machismo and baring his vulnerability.
We had seen him grieve for his fallen father, battle his addiction to painkillers and fear for his cancer-stricken wife, but that was real life. With football, Favre's trademark was joy, and there was no joy on Thursday.
After wrestling with the decision to retire and having come back to play in Houston and Hartford, Gordie Howe eventually called it quits at 52. (Denis Brodeur/NHL via Getty Images)
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Retirement struck with an emotional eruption, and as the quarterback talked about his decision, he gave fans a final memory, a glimpse at an inner conversation that most people do not have with their profession.
Most people put money away and yearn for retirement. Getting there is a race.
Most pro athletes have money put away and deny retirement. In their case, the best is not yet to come.
Retirement happens when something in them surrenders, and cruelly, the piece of Favre that surrendered was his mind, not his body. That is more difficult to explain to a demanding public, and perhaps that is why most fans and commentators expected Favre to return in the summer for one final lap.
The end wasn't obvious because Favre, 38, had not displayed the usual symptoms. His arm is still strong and his feet still nimble, and his performance, particularly in a magical 2007 season, still elite.
Some play for the money, but Favre was always the everyman's superstar, embodying the spirit of a weekend game at the park. He was also a proud pro, and he wasn't going to cheat himself, his teammates or his fans by competing against a conflicted will Monday through Saturday and an NFL opponent on Sunday.
In Favre's case, the moment when to say when came prematurely. That's what made it so compelling. Contemplating retirement normally occurs in private, but Favre took his audience through this painful negotiation by answering every question with revealing answers.
Was he worried about hanging on too long and tainting his reputation?
Yes.
Would he have second thoughts, especially on Sundays in the fall?
Yes.
Was football still fun?
Yes, but not as much.
Why now?
"[Because] I've given football everything I possibly could and I don't think I've got anything left to give it," Favre said. "And that's it. I know I can play, but I don't want to.
"As hard as that is to say, it's over."
Every athlete reaches the game-over conclusion, but arriving at that conclusion is a more intense process than for other pro. Devout as an accountant might be, balance sheets and tax forms do not allow him to prolong youth like the pro athlete who plays the game he loves.
"When you're in the sport, it's like an arrested state of development," said David Paskevich, a sports psychologist at the University of Calgary. "What other job can you act like an 18- or 20-year-old? Ideally, retirement is not something you leave to the last moment."
Favre didn't heed this advice. He didn't have a plan. Asked what he would do to bridge the transition, Favre replied flatly, "Nothing."
Rather than taking ownership of the process, Favre allowed the moment of truth to determine its own timetable. After each of the past few seasons, he left Green Bay for his Mississippi stead and waited for a sign.
The organics of it made it more emotional, and it was clear that a big piece of Favre died this week. He even acknowledged that during his news conference with a line that, at first, drew laughs from the audience until Favre made it clear that he was not joking.
