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Huck Finn's Last Ride
JEFF MACGREGOR
December 04, 2006
For 15 years Brett Favre has been the NFL's answer to Mark Twain's barefoot scamp--forever young and reckless. But nothing lasts forever, and the chattering heads think it's time for him to retire. Pray that they're wrong
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December 04, 2006

Huck Finn's Last Ride

For 15 years Brett Favre has been the NFL's answer to Mark Twain's barefoot scamp--forever young and reckless. But nothing lasts forever, and the chattering heads think it's time for him to retire. Pray that they're wrong

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And now America is angry at Huck Finn for going gray. And for reminding us, yet again, of our own mortality.

There will come a time when Brett Favre can no longer play. This is not that time. But at the end of this season--or the next or the next or the next--he will step away at last, having earned the peace of an endless off-season. The cold and the snow will overtake Green Bay, and the stadium at this edge of the world will stand empty behind us, the last thing we see in the rear-view mirror as we cross that river, the light at last failing in the trees.

But until that moment, Brett Favre will be throwing, in a way, for us all. Throwing hope forward, in a single clean step or with a motion as rushed and awkward as man falling out of the tub, as hurried and off-balance as the rest of us. Banking on the past while trying to read a second or two into his future, drilling clean arcs on our behalf into the weakening light and the rising odds, every stand he makes in the pocket another little long shot fired against the infinite and inevitable. Every throw a moment for hope, a defiant line, bright in the air, against chaos and diminishment and the final goodbye.

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