I am 15 years old. I go to a high school in Wisconsin. This Tuesday a blow was struck to the hearts of many a rabid fanboy, a blow that many may not recover from in their lifetime.
You may think that I'm referring to Barack Obama's loss in the Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island primaries. I really wish that I was referring to Barack Obama's loss in the Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island primaries.
I am, of course, referring to the fact that Brett Favre retired.
Highly revered as some sort of fuzzy-faced ball-throwing god in our area, Favre's resignation proved to be just a bit too much for some Wisconsinites. For some, their loyalty to a team based in Northern Wisconsin, existing solely to play a game nonstop the entire year, paying players millions and millions of dollars to do so, compromised of young athletes, probably none of which actually come from Wisconsin or give a crap about people from Wisconsin or their fans in general, was stretched to the limits when their demi-god Favre left.
Others are still left scratching their fuzzy chins at how to pronounce his last name. Is it... "fahrv"? "Fah-ver"? Damn those French.
While shuffling in to the cafeteria in my relatively-large high school for lunch, I noticed that the TVs scattered around the walls were on. The TVs are never on. During school shootings, national disasters, and even during the court proceedings of socialite tramps, these TVs are never on. I had a glimmer of hope that they were on to watch the progress of the Tuesday primaries, or at least some of the coverage of it. I had a glimmer of hope that people were concerned about the future of the country, about the issues that mattered like the war, the economy, things like that.
I'm 15, I reserve the right to be naive.
In reality, hundreds of high school students were huddled around the TV screens, some nearly on the verge of tears, as they watched fat men in sport coats talk about the retirement of Brett Favre, a 17-year veteran of the Green Bay Packers, born in Mississippi.
And then, the raptors attacked...