Robert Scribner is a senior majoring in marketing. He can be contacted at [email protected]. As I sit at my computer machine and type away at its keyboard mechanism, I find myself having trouble staying focused on the dubious task at hand. Although I have chosen this topic for myself, it is still difficult to report on something so riveting.
Before we dive into it, allow me to preface it by stating that Mar. 4 will likely be remembered as a day of infamy for at least the next 100,000 years.
Only a few days ago, I was healthy and happy. Those were grand times indeed, a few days ago. I spent a lot of time frolicking, reveling and carousing about, making sure to do all the things often associated with health and happiness.
But then, I suddenly found myself overtaken with illness and sorrow. The main thing was I had flu-like symptoms.
I am generally a very vital person. And this is why I knew my conditions were more than just my conditions. They were the world’s conditions. They served as an omen, a swift but sure harbinger of impending misfortune and perhaps destruction.
I awoke on Tuesday, as I often do. After that, I checked my computer for various Internet Web page updates. As I had suspected, there had been several updates to the Internet. All of them were awesome. That is, except for one.
As you’ve probably heard by now, Brett Favre has retired from his job of professional football quarterback. He has decided to move on to greener bays, claiming that his 17 years in the NFL have left him too mentally tired to continue.
I hear what he is saying. I find it mentally tiring to simply watch an entire NFL game.
This is a huge blow to us as Mississippians. Favre, who grew up here and played at Southern Mississsippi, will be remembered for his tremendous work ethic and drive. He started in more than 250 consecutive games from 1992 until his retirement, and he was magnificent throughout.
So you can imagine how my spirits dropped upon hearing that news. Here I was, sick and lacking a hero. I tried to comfort myself. Favre is extremely old, I told myself. All good things must come to an end, I thought.
Maybe Favre has the right idea. Maybe athletes are a good model for the rest of society. Favre has turned haggard and gray. Maybe retirement is the best option. It’s unnatural for the elderly to linger on in the workforce, suffering day in and out until they die a slow and inappreciable death. Go out on top, I say.
Look at Roger Clemens. That man is almost 75 years old and can still throw a baseball 100 miles per hour, but the only thing keeping him together is human growth hormone. And the hormones aren’t even his! They’re from a different human! And that’s just plain gross.
Maybe we should all retire before we hit 40. Let’s keep things in perspective here. Historically, 40 years is a pretty damn long time for a human being to be alive. Even in the early 1900s, the life expectancy was less than 40 years. I mean, Jesus didn’t even live that long, and he was God’s son! Favre outlived the son of God, and you still want him to play tackle football for a living? That’s ridiculous.
So yes, we are losing a Mississippi hero and one of the greatest quarterbacks ever, but at least we can find consolation in the amazing length of time he gave us. We can even learn from him and his retirement.
Like I have always said, having a job isn’t cool, and you should probably quit yours as soon as possible. Amen?