As the ball sat on the New Orleans Saints' thirty-five yard line with less than a minute to go and the score knotted at twenty-eight a piece, I sat down on my couch and breathed a sigh of relief.  The Vikings had the ball, and the offense was returning to the huddle after being stopped for no gain on second down.  With the ball positioned for a fifty-two yard field goal for Ryan Longwell, the Vikings' reliable kicker, another handoff on third down was imminent.  It would likely be one intended to leave the ball squarely in between the hash marks, leaving Longwell with a straight shot at the uprights for the game winning field goal.  But it wasn't the prospect of a running play on third down that had brought about my sigh of relief.  No, my long exhale was acknowledgment that I had witnessed something I wasn't sure was possible.  Brett Favre had successfully managed to make it through the entire game without committing a catastrophic error that would crush the Vikings' Super Bowl aspirations.  I had wondered aloud all week whether Favre could keep it together for an entire game (see my last tweet in the sidebar on the left, as well as the closing sentence of last week's entry), and he had.  One more running play, a fifty-two yard (or less) field goal in the weather-controlled environment of the Super Dome, and the Vikings were on their way to Miami for the Super Bowl. 

But then something strange happened.  I watched as the Vikings inexplicably put twelve men in the huddle while preparing for third and ten.  The penalty sent them back five yards and left the ball at the forty yard line.  Suddenly, assuming no gain on third down, Ryan Longwell would be staring at a fifty-seven yard field goal.  Fifty-two yards was one thing, but fifty-seven?  The announcers were quick to point out that it was at the outer limit of his range.  In a matter of moments, a third down play that had been nothing more than an inconvenience on the way to a game winning field goal attempt had morphed into a play of serious significance! 

What was lost on me at the time, but what I now fully appreciate, is that the bizarre penalty didn't just change the way the Vikings would have to approach third down.  It also re-opened the door for Favre, giving him one more opportunity to demonstrate that he could make it through a big game without imploding.

I would be lying if I said I saw it coming.  It now seems foolish, particularly given his track record over the last few years, but I didn't think an interception was even a possibility.  With a timeout in hand, I half expected Minnesota to run the ball, maybe going with a delayed handoff/draw to get them a few yards closer for a field goal.  But even if they did decide to pass, it would definitely be a low risk play that would give Favre the opportunity to throw it away if he didn't have anyone wide open.  An interception just wasn't a possibility.

Unfortunately, I forgot who I was dealing with.

As I watched Favre roll to his right and look for a receiver, I still didn't see it coming.  No one looked to be open, but with the field opening up in front of him, either a quick scamper for a couple yards before heading out of bounds or - worst case - a throw away toss out of bounds were the only options, and both would put Longwell in no worse position than before the play started.

Of course, I had made one very critical miscalculation.  I assumed that Brett Favre, when faced with the afore-mentioned options, would do what just about any other forty-year old veteran NFL quarterback would do on third down with a game-winning field goal attempt looming: play it safe.  But as I watched him throw across his body, sending the ball back across the field  and into the waiting arms of a Saints defender, ending the Vikings' shot at a game-winning field goal, I was reminded that I wasn't watching any other forty-year old veteran NFL quarterback. 

This was Brett Favre. 

I realize now, with the benefit of hindsight, that it had to end this way.  There was really no other possible outcome.  The result was basically pre-ordained.  This had to happen, because at the end of the day, it was Brett Favre. 

Before there's any confusion, I need to make something clear.  I'm not disputing the talents of Brett Favre, or in any way suggesting that he isn't one of the greatest quarterbacks to play in the NFL.  Instead, I'm simply pointing out that a leopard can't change it spots.  Brett Favre will go down as one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time because of his leadership, his competitive spirit, and his absurd athletic ability that has allowed him to make plays over the course of his career that will be the subject of highlight reels for generations to come.  His physical ability and go-for-broke approach to the game have resulted in some of the most brilliant throws and unlikely receptions we've ever seen, and we are lucky to have witnessed them.

Those same attributes, however, have resulted in some of the most ill-conceived, baffling throws we've ever seen, which have also occurred at extremely inopportune times.  And that is Brett Favre.  That's who he is, and who he has always been.  If you want the flashes of brilliance, you've got to accept the fact that occasionally he's going to try and do too much and make devastating errors in judgment.  Sure, with age and maturity he's shown the ability to suppress the tendency to make high-risk decisions at moments that called for prudence.  He did it successfully for almost the entire season this year.  But what we saw at the end of regulation against the Saints was that when it comes down to crunch time, and the adrenaline is flowing, Brett Favre is going to revert to who he is at his core.  He's not a game-managing quarterback.  He's a risk-taking 'gunslinger' (I know, I hate the term too, but you have to admit - it fits), and as Packers, Jets, and now Vikings fans have learned, if you want to revel in the good, you've also got to endure the bad.  He's going to do what he does, for better or worse. 

It's a tragic - and ironic - sports tale, really, because Favre is the one, through his tremendous ability, who got the Vikings over the hump and guided them into the NFC Championship Game.  Without him, it's fair to say that the Vikings wouldn't have been playing the Saints last weekend.  They would have already been enjoying their offseason.  And more importantly, without Favre, the Vikings wouldn't have been tied with the Saints with less than a minute left in regulation and in position to kick the game-winning field goal.  Favre's play throughout the game was the primary reason that the Vikings were poised to head to the Super Bowl!  I can't help but be struck by the irony that the man who made such an astoundingly bad decision in the waning moments of the game was the same person responsible for creating that moment through his incredible play throughout the rest of the game.  He was the one responsible for setting the stage upon which he failed. 

But that's who Brett Favre is, and has always been.  As a friend of mine recently said, "You can't help but be sucked in by his Favreness."  And that's what he does - he draws us in with one magical play after another, even at forty, until you forget about all the land mines that are waiting for a risk-taking quarterback with each additional snap of the football.  Favre is like crack.  You can't help but feel good watching him consistently pull rabbits out of a hat.  You can't believe what you're seeing.  The highs are unbelievable, and you forget that danger is lurking around the corner.  You forget that things could go wrong at any moment.  But as soon as you do forget, you can bet that you'll get a jarring reminder of how quickly he can rip your heart out and cause you great pain and misery - usually in the form of one the opposing team's defensive backs streaking down the field with an interception.  He doesn't want to do it, but he just can't help it.  It's who he is.

The NFC Championship game was really a microcosm of Favre's career, and there would seem to be a certain symmetry if it happens to be his last.  He took us on a great ride last Sunday, as he has done throughout his career.  He played with great heart and passion, endured multiple injuries, came from behind repeatedly, and led his team to the brink of victory with one unlikely completion after another, only to come up short because he tried one too many times to do what he has always done best - and what has captivated us for so many years - make a play when it doesn’t look like one exists.

So, Vikings fans, all I can say is that I feel for you.  I'm sure mine wasn't the only sigh of relief that came one snap too early on Sunday night.