He played the game like it should be played, the way we’d all like to think we’d play given the opportunity.  His first completion for the Green Bay Packers, a batted ball he caught himself, set the tempo for what would be a whirlwind career.  He was the cowboy, the gunslinger.  He ran around the field like it was any neighborhood in America.  Whether it was a deep ball, shovel pass, a laser-guided pass on a crossing-route thrown so hard it would bruise his receivers under their pads, or some pass he made up on the fly, he found a way to make it work.

Watching him play a near flawless game against the Oakland Raiders on Monday Night Football the day after his father died showed his character.  He was flawed, admitting his addiction to pain killers and problems with alcohol in 1997.  But when a father shows his son how to play football, he can tell him to play like Brett Favre.