So my friend Mike Lewis just left me an excited message—”The Jets are talking to Favre! The Jets are talking to Favre!”
As a long-dying Jets fan (Because of my profession I don’t actively root anymore, but, hey, it’s a lot of years of heartache), I can’t help but think this won’t end very well. Through the decades, the Jets. Have. Brought. In. A. Ton. Of. Veterans. And. It. Almost. Never. Works. Out.
I like Favre. Hell, I love Favre. But something tells me this is going to follow a familiar storyline—the one about the faded superstar getting the shit kicked out of him while wearing an unfamiliar uniform. I hated Willie Mays in Mets duds, Joe Namath in Rams duds, Patrick Ewing decked out in Seattle green. I don’t blame legends for holding on as long as humanly possible (Hell, I would, too), but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy watching the show.
If you’re the New York Jets, and your quarterbacks are Chad Pennington and Kellen Clemens, you have to make this deal.
But I sure hope they don’t.
