Today's post starts with a correction:
Yesterday, I accidentally attributed a
story to the
Washington Post that was actually on the
Wall Street Journal's website; it was an honest, if not obvious mistake. But in my defense, when your vision is as blurred by the saline tears of Brett Favre Heart Break as mine, you too will find it hard to read banner logos and URLs. Be that as it may, this story has been on my mind since I read it.
Generally, I'm not one to believe in conspiracy theories. I believe a man landed on the moon, I don't believe our president is a half-Black Nazi trying to kill old people with health insurance, and I don't believe the NFL conspired with the government in an effort to ensure the Patiots won the 2001 Super Bowl so we'd all feel better after 9-11. Although, I have to admit, that was pretty awesome.
Still, after reading about Brett Favre's five years old-looking Vikings cap, I can't help but wonder if something sinister has been at work here. Could it be possible that his signing with the Vikings was completed on more than just a 25 million dollar whim, as we've been told by the media? Could this awful union of the Packers' most-beloved player and their fans' most hated team have been a conspiracy all along? We all know that Favre wanted to play for the Vikings in the first place, and only settled on the Jets when he couldn't get his way. Then, almost inconceivably, Favre was able to get his full release from the Jets by "retiring" after last season. So what's going on here?
I began to go back and read some of the stories from when this whole charade began last summer, and I was shocked to find photographic evidence in support of a conspiracy:
Look closely at Favre's hat in this picture from his first preseason game with the Jets. Incredibly, he's showing his hand in full view of a national television audience! Could this be the same hat to which the
Wall Street Journal was referring? Perhaps, but their article said the hat looked "five years old." Allow me to present exhibit B:
How this vulgar abomination slipped past Packers fans and the media is beyond me. But can there be any doubt now that
Brett Favre, the Viking is something Childress and Favre have been planning all along? If that's not enough to convince you that Favre has been secretly plotting a voyage on the Sex Boat, take a look at this 1992 draft day photo I found:
It's a little blurry, and if you ask me, looks a little Photoshopped but, as sure as the sun rises in the east, that's a Vikings hat. And yes, those are "jorts" he's wearing, too. This is how Oliver Stone must have felt while he was researching
JFK.
Surely there is an explanation, right? Maybe growing up, the Vikings were Favre's favorite team and he just
told Packers fans he loved the Saints. Perhaps he knew we'd never accept a Vikings fan as a leader. Favre being a Saint's fan is certainly believable since he grew up in Louisiana. Plus, he would have had the pleasure of watching Archie Manning. However, one has to at least question this story because the Saints were awful during the 70s and 80s.
All of that is food for thought, but one man does not a conspiracy make. No, for this to be a conspiracy, we need evidence that another person was involved. Of course the most likely culprit is Vikings Coach, Brad Childress. Could he have gone to Philadelphia at the behest of Brett Favre to learn a Holmgren-esque version of the West Coast Offense? I think what you are about to see leaves no doubt that Favre and Childress have been planning to unite in Minnesota for some time now:
(Look closely, 3 row up, 5th from the left)
In case your vision is blurred by saline tears of Brett Favre Heart Break, let's zoom in on this 2003 photo of the Philadelphia Eagles for a larger, more pixelly look:
Now there can be no doubt that Favre going to the Vikings was much more than Childress calling Favre on a lark at the exact moment Brett happened to changed his mind for the last time. This Vikings novelty hat is the "smoking gun" that places Favre and Childress in cahoots at the helm of a great conspiracy to destroy the hearts and minds of Packers fans while imposing their will upon the NFL. (Not in terms of winning games, of course, but just in terms of not following standard preseason and retirement procedures.) Needless to say, now that they've gotten away with it, the only thing left to do in order to bring the plan to its completion is to win the Super Bowl.
The problem with a conspiracy though, is that once someone finds out about it, they sort of have to be in on it, whether or not they want to be. This is the situation in which the Vikings currently find themselves, and apparently, not everyone is aboard the proverbial sex boat to the Super Bowl.
Yesterday,
ESPN reported there is a "schism" among teammates in the Vikings locker room. Frankly, they couldn't have chosen a better word to describe the rift among those who are buying into the religion of Brett Favre, and those who would like to follow Tarvaris Jackson based on actually having seen him "out-Favre" Brett Favre on the football field.
What two knowledgeable NFL people described earlier this week as an "issue" in the Minnesota Vikings' locker room was described Wednesday by a third informed person as a "schism."
The issue is quarterback Brett Favre, and the schism is the preference that certain Vikings players have for specific quarterbacks.
Sources with knowledge of the Vikings' locker-room dynamics say some players believe Tarvaris Jackson gives the Vikings the best chance to win...
As you might expect, when Favre was asked for comment on the supposed "schism" he did what he has done so well the past several weeks: he played dumb, saying,
"I don't even know what that means.
"
Apparently, neither does Jared Allen, whose response when asked about the schism was, "
I'm not answering any schism quesitons. It's all [a swear word]"
Obviously Favre and Allen never listened to
Anthrax. (Although I find it hard to believe that Allen's mullet doesn't listen to 80's heavy metal.) Back in the 1980s the thrash metal pioneers ended the American Civil War and reunited a schismatic nation by insisting, "
a house divided can't stand." If you've never listened to Anthrax and that sounds familiar to you, it's not because Childress has been telling his players something similar in an effort to get them working towards a common goal.
No, there must be some other reason.