Post by mexicanjunior on Aug 5, 2008 11:14:29 GMT -6
msn.foxsports.com/nfl/story/8413228?MSNHPHMA
Already, they've been compared more times than each cares to remember: Brett Favre, now and again property of the Packers, and Tony Romo, who grew up in Burlington, Wisconsin.
It is said that Romo idolized Favre as a kid — how could he not? — though he minimized the reverence of his recollections before last November's game between Dallas and Green Bay. As it happened, Romo outplayed his erstwhile hero that night, throwing for 309 yards and four touchdowns as Favre left the game with an injured right elbow and a separated left shoulder.
Perhaps the evening foretold of an inevitable succession in the NFC. If so, the warning went unheeded. And it's too bad, as Favre might have actually learned something from the second-year starter. Favre wasn't facing a merely younger man. In Tony Romo, he went against a guy still endowed with a sense of humility.
Favre's is gone, replaced by a dangerous strain of hubris. How else to explain his present circumstances? Jay Glazer reports that the Packers and their famous quarterback are no closer to a resolution now than they've been for weeks, maybe months. What's more, Favre is loathe to be a distraction.
It's a little late for that, no?
What was he thinking, retiring and unretiring over and again? Actually — brace yourself for the columnist's conceit — I can tell you what he was thinking, some part of him at least: I can play forever.
Such pride remains foreign to Romo. A couple of years ago, no one knew who he was. Undrafted out of Eastern Illinois, he had yet to throw his first pass in the NFL. Now his standing with the Dallas Cowboys — not to mention the declining sympathies for Favre — entitle him to consideration as America's quarterback.
He's gone to a couple of Pro Bowls. He's an easy, if overwhelmingly sensible pick to take his team to the Super Bowl. Still, he speaks of himself in an almost fatalistic way, saying some months ago that "no one is going to remember me in five or seven years anyway."
In Oxnard, where the Cowboys have been practicing, I asked him if he really believed that.
"I'm serious," he said. "I'm going to live another 30 or 40 years and for five of them people will talk, and after that, no one's going to say anything."
That seems impossible, given the confluence of the gossip and sports industries. After all, not only is Romo the most heavily promoted star in the Cowboys universe, America's quarterback is also dating America's sweetheart.
"Once you're gone, I don't think it's nearly the same." Besides, he added, "I don't think I'm that important anyway. Honestly, I don't."
I don't know if someone so famous can ever get out gracefully, though I'd like to see him try. I wonder if he can go without acquiring the hubris of the man he admired.
As for Favre, I don't know where he'll be in five to seven years. But I know where he thinks he'll be: still playing ball.
I don't see how Romo could ever not be humbled after that debacle in the Seattle playoff game. That play is a lifetime's worth of humility and perhaps one of the better things to happen to him and his psyche, so he never takes anything for granted.
Already, they've been compared more times than each cares to remember: Brett Favre, now and again property of the Packers, and Tony Romo, who grew up in Burlington, Wisconsin.
It is said that Romo idolized Favre as a kid — how could he not? — though he minimized the reverence of his recollections before last November's game between Dallas and Green Bay. As it happened, Romo outplayed his erstwhile hero that night, throwing for 309 yards and four touchdowns as Favre left the game with an injured right elbow and a separated left shoulder.
Perhaps the evening foretold of an inevitable succession in the NFC. If so, the warning went unheeded. And it's too bad, as Favre might have actually learned something from the second-year starter. Favre wasn't facing a merely younger man. In Tony Romo, he went against a guy still endowed with a sense of humility.
Favre's is gone, replaced by a dangerous strain of hubris. How else to explain his present circumstances? Jay Glazer reports that the Packers and their famous quarterback are no closer to a resolution now than they've been for weeks, maybe months. What's more, Favre is loathe to be a distraction.
It's a little late for that, no?
What was he thinking, retiring and unretiring over and again? Actually — brace yourself for the columnist's conceit — I can tell you what he was thinking, some part of him at least: I can play forever.
Such pride remains foreign to Romo. A couple of years ago, no one knew who he was. Undrafted out of Eastern Illinois, he had yet to throw his first pass in the NFL. Now his standing with the Dallas Cowboys — not to mention the declining sympathies for Favre — entitle him to consideration as America's quarterback.
He's gone to a couple of Pro Bowls. He's an easy, if overwhelmingly sensible pick to take his team to the Super Bowl. Still, he speaks of himself in an almost fatalistic way, saying some months ago that "no one is going to remember me in five or seven years anyway."
In Oxnard, where the Cowboys have been practicing, I asked him if he really believed that.
"I'm serious," he said. "I'm going to live another 30 or 40 years and for five of them people will talk, and after that, no one's going to say anything."
That seems impossible, given the confluence of the gossip and sports industries. After all, not only is Romo the most heavily promoted star in the Cowboys universe, America's quarterback is also dating America's sweetheart.
"Once you're gone, I don't think it's nearly the same." Besides, he added, "I don't think I'm that important anyway. Honestly, I don't."
I don't know if someone so famous can ever get out gracefully, though I'd like to see him try. I wonder if he can go without acquiring the hubris of the man he admired.
As for Favre, I don't know where he'll be in five to seven years. But I know where he thinks he'll be: still playing ball.
I don't see how Romo could ever not be humbled after that debacle in the Seattle playoff game. That play is a lifetime's worth of humility and perhaps one of the better things to happen to him and his psyche, so he never takes anything for granted.
