Why Grown Men Cry: The Brett Favre Press Conference

In the wake of a media frenzy following Brett Favre's sort-of-leaked retirement decision, the man himself flew to Green Bay last Thursday to publicly lay his football career to rest.

True to character, Favre took the stage as himself—no frills, no suit, no clean shave, and no prepared statement.

As a bearded Favre walked to the podium in blue jeans and an untucked button-down, no doubt there was still a sliver of hope among fans—and perhaps within Favre himself—that this was somehow not really the end.

Favre sat down and tried to confidently deliver his first words, as if he could actually do so with any sort of nonchalance.

"Well, I think we all know why I'm here," Favre said hurriedly. "First of all, sorry I'm late. But I am in fact retiring from the NFL and the Green Bay Packers."

Then, for the next 10 minutes, the iron man of Green Bay had trouble speaking. He sobbed and choked on his words. He shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

"It was never about the money, or fame, or records," he sputtered through snot and sighs.

And so began Favre's emotional confession that he couldn't give anything more to the game.

He wanted to keep playing, and he certainly felt the pressure to keep going—from fans and from himself—but a change had been brewing inside of him for years, and had finally came to a head this past season.

The change was there to be seen throughout 2007. Discriminating fans who watched the QB's postgame press conferences noted that he adopted a cautious tone about success, as if making a preemptive strike against the terror of defeat.

The legend was finally feeling his years, not so much physically as mentally. If age really is a state of mind, it appears Favre has indeed gotten old.

Attempting to explain the subtle but damaging transformation in his attitude, Favre said, "After numerous games I would come home and after a couple of hours I had the computer out and I was watching film of the upcoming opponent instead of enjoying the win we just had. At some point, you've got to relax and enjoy and I found myself not enjoying it as much. It's fun to win but you've got to enjoy it and relax a little bit. That more than anything was taking its toll on me."

And there you have it. The celebrated flame of youthful exuberance—the trait his fans loved him for—had been extinguished.

That's why Brett Favre cried as he tried to explain—to himself as much as to his fans—why he wasn't coming back. He felt the core of his personality being whittled away by the pressure to live up to extraordinary expectations—and it wasn't a comfortable feeling.

"I could probably come back and do it, suck it up, but what kind of a toll would that take on me, my family or my teammates?" he said. "At some point it would affect one of those, if not all of them. Maybe it has already."

That's the root of the sense of loss that comes with Favre's retirement: the knowledge that the ultimate fan favorite could no longer stay young and boisterous in the face of pressure, personal tragedy, injury, defeat, and anything else life threw at him.

Being a sports fan means living vicariously through the athletes we admire. And Favre's fans wanted to believe in the undaunted No. 4. They took hope from him—not the hope of fortune or fame, but the hope of survival, the hope that it's possible to fight through criticism and adversity with unwavering resolve.

Favre knew that spontaneity, not tedious preparation, was what really kept him going for 17 years.

"As I've heard, that the way he's played the game, with as much fun as he's had, is all important and I agree with that," he said. "It's a game and I played it spontaneously, nothing was ever choreographed. And I've always said this: The money they pay is icing on the cake. It had no bearing on the way I played. I played the game regardless a certain way. And I hope that's what people appreciate about me."

That is certainly what fans appreciate about Favre. And that's why more than a smattering of grown men and women shed at least an inward tear during Favre's press conference.

If Brett Favre can get old, then anyone can get old. If Brett Favre admits he can't handle the pressure of being himself, who among his fans can do any better?

But along with the fears and tears of Favre's retirement press conference, there's also a sense of closure, and the promise of a new dawn.

Favre felt the winds of change within himself this past season. His retirement is not a surrender to mounting pressure or a resignation to apprehension or defeat—he's simply moving on before something steals his soul.

That's what fans can learn from his decision to retire: There's nothing more important than remaining true to yourself.

You have to live life a certain way—your own way. Sometimes you have to take seemingly drastic measures to keep yourself intact. That's what Favre really told his fans last week.

And that's why there is no need for anyone who truly admired Favre to shed a tear.

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