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"It's just great winning," Favre says outside a locker room smelling of Seabreeze and baby powder, and looks like he means it. "It's a hell of a lot easier to lose a game than it is to win it. We gotta find ways to end these games. But, man, that was fun."
Then Philadelphia. A Monday night game, and down below the press box Eagles fans warm up by shouting pregame obscenities at ESPN's pregame broadcast team. As the sun sets, Philly's trademark vibe of imminent weirdness sets in. The home team comes pouring out through the inflatable Levitra tunnel for its introduction.
For the first half, it's mostly Packers. Favre is 15 of 26 for 126 yards. Five minutes into the third quarter, though, the momentum shifts. There is no tipping point, no clear instant in which the worm turns. The Eagles simply score 24 unanswered points and win going away.
With 6:19 to play Favre gets planted hard and hobbles off with a shoulder stinger and a ringing head. "Man, that was a rough one," he says 20 minutes later. "I've got a splitting headache. I just need to get in bed and get some rest."
In another too-quiet clubhouse, this one smelling of wintergreen and wet feet, he leans against a wall. He eats a hot dog. He keeps his back to the room. Questions, sound bites and sentence fragments float past him on the steam from the showers, the damp postgame catechism:
"What happened out there?"
"They just made some plays...."
"Talk about what you do now...."
"This team's gonna do well this year...."
" ... game like that, you've got to be able to finish...."