"As they say, all good things must come to an end. I look forward to whatever the future may hold for me." ~ Brett Favre

I had a weird dream the other night. In it, my wife and I are first time visitors to a Lutheran church in our longtime vacation destination, Door County, just north of Green Bay.

Partway through the worship service instead of a traditional homilitic sermon, a "contemporary worship" service suddenly breaks out ... the abstract is, a musical version of the Passion of Christ featuring the 12 Disciples clad in Green Bay Packer uniforms with a #4 on Jesus' jersey.

I said it was weird, right...? Maybe it's because Easter is so early this year?

Anyhow, Tina and I take off in the middle of the service (decisively "liturgical" in worship, lifelong Lutherans both, we met at Bible Camp and prefer the use of common lectionary, vestments, and an order like that found in the Common Service). But my dream illustrates the deep emotional attachment Packer fans in particular and Wisconsinites in general hold for their team and its longtime captain; even risking blasphemy in REM-state with pride so poignant... and I'm the least rabid fan I know of.

Brett Favre, arguably the heart and soul of Titletown, left professional football this week for good... at least, I hope so - it would be a shame to attempt a half-hearted return to fade that hard-earned legacy, as former teammate Reggie White did a few years ago.

There's something to be said for going out on top, even if the Green Bay Packers' 2007 didn't exactly end the way any fan wanted, as they lost on a Favre interception to the New York Giants in the NFC championship game. But, hey, that ultimately led to the best Superbowl game in history, so maybe it was worth it? One thing cannot be denied though: Favre was tough.

How tough was Brett Favre? Steve Greenberg from the Sporting News cited the arc Favre's history covers:

Roughly 400 starting NFL quarterbacks. That's of the 409 QBs who started games during Favre's mammoth ironman run with the Packers. Darn near 13, on average, for every other franchise. How many of them sat with sprained egos while Favre gnawed off sore appendages and played?

The AP's Chris Jenkins breaks yesterday's retirement story down for us:

"It's been a great career for me, and it's over," Favre said, his voice cracking with emotion during a news conference at Lambeau Field two days after he announced his retirement. "As hard as that is for me to say, it's over."

Wearing an untucked collared shirt, blue jeans and several days' worth of stubble, Favre said he was convinced he could still play on Sundays, but had lost his passion to practice and prepare the way he would need to lead the Packers to another Super Bowl.

Given that fact, he could draw only one conclusion: It was time to hang up his helmet.

"I have way too much pride," Favre said. "I expect a lot out of myself. And if I cannot do those things 100 percent, then I can't play."

After a farewell news conference that lasted just over an hour, Favre put his arm around his tearful wife, Deanna, and left the stage—presumably for good.

He takes with him a Super Bowl victory, virtually every quarterback record worth having and the widespread admiration of his peers and fans.

The 38-year-old Favre also leaves with graying hair and a deliberate gait—signs that the years were quietly taking a toll on the man who was celebrated for playing a serious and precise game with the carefree joy of a little boy.

He cried Thursday as he discussed his decision.

"I promised I wouldn't get emotional," he said. But as the tears flowed, he added, "I've watched hundreds of players retire and you wonder what that would be like. You think you're prepared ..."

Favre thanked the Green Bay Packers for letting him play.

"I hope that with every penny they've spent on me, they know it was money well spent," he said. "It wasn't about the money or fame or records. I hear people talk about your accomplishments and things. It was never my accomplishments, it was our accomplishments."

Favre is the NFL's only three-time MVP, and leads the league with 442 touchdown passes, 61,655 yards passing and 160 career victories. He started 253 consecutive regular-season games, more than any other quarterback in history.

Favre also holds the more dubious mark of 288 interceptions—an indication of the wild streak that only made him more human to the fans who adored him.

The same was true of Favre's highly publicized struggles with an addiction to prescription painkillers, his support of his wife through a battle with breast cancer, and a memorable Monday night game against Oakland after he lost his father.

Favre's exit comes after a remarkable 2007 season, but his final pass was one to forget: An interception in overtime of the NFC championship game, a mistake that set up the New York Giants' field goal that sent the Packers home instead of to the Super Bowl.

Don Banks wrote yesterday on SI.com about what the Atlanta Falcons (where Favre played his first season and 16 subsequent quarterbacks succeeded him while he played EVERY GAME, EVERY SEASON in Green Bay) can finally share with the Green Pay Packers... they can both miss Brett Favre. Here's why he thinks we all loved Favre so much:

Here's the thing about Favre's playing style that I think always resonated so deeply with NFL fans: It had an every-man quality, in that the version of the game he played each week somehow resembled the game we all remembered playing growing up. Be it on the playground or in organized youth football.

His wasn't some display of the perfect technique or form; he didn't execute at a supremely gifted athletic level that we could only dream of. We could watch Favre and see ourselves flipping a desperation underhand pass on the playground, just before the rushers got to us. We could see him chuck the ill-advised pass into triple coverage and recall when we blindly trusted that our arm could make any throw it had to make, no matter what the odds.

Watching Favre out there reminded us of what it felt like when we were playing the game, and conjured up our own experiences with football long before we just sat and watched others play. I never even knew Favre was doing that, but now that I reflect on it, that's what he reminded me of each week. The kid playing football that almost all of us were at some point. He just got to do it a lot longer than the rest of us.

Michael Wilbon, sports columnist for the Washington Post continued:

Favre isn't retiring as the greatest quarterback in the history of the league; Otto Graham, Johnny Unitas, Joe Montana and John Elway, among others, would rank ahead of him on any credible list of greatest quarterbacks. But Favre has been as identifiable as any of the above at any time, on the field and off it. It helped that he played in Green Bay, the smallest but most pro football-obsessed community in America. It helped that he won a Super Bowl fairly early in his career, that he butted heads with opposing defensive linemen who wanted to eat him for lunch and jumped into the arms of offensive linemen like some eighth-grade boy in the schoolyard.

It helped that he was part Cal Ripken and part Mickey Mantle, that he carried that Mississippi accent all the way up to Dairyland, where the Cheeseheads found that a guy from a tiny town near the Gulf of Mexico isn't all that different from guys living in a tiny frozen town on a bay off Lake Michigan. It helped that Favre walked around that flannel kind of town without a posse or bodyguards, usually wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. It helped that he was a guy who played the night after his father died unexpectedly of a heart attack and cried when his wife learned she had breast cancer and dealt publicly with something as embarrassing as being addicted to painkillers.

It helped that not many football players get a larger-than-cameo role in a hit movie as "Fa-Vre" did in "There's Something About Mary." Any way you cut it, Favre was a huge, huge star in a league that is so star-averse it has a rule that prohibits players from removing their helmets on the field. Of course, none of it would have mattered a lick if Favre couldn't play, but he could -- to the degree that the history of the NFL absolutely cannot be written without him.

Every meaningful record a quarterback can have, Favre retired with Tuesday, presuming you really and truly believe he isn't coming back. No quarterback has started more consecutive games. No quarterback has won more games, thrown more passes, completed more passes, passed for more yards or touchdowns -- or thrown more interceptions -- than Brett Favre. And nobody has won three straight MVP awards -- not Jim Brown, not Roger Staubach, not Tom Brady, nobody.

Okay, Favre didn't win four championships, like Montana or Terry Bradshaw. He didn't lead his team to five Super Bowls, like Elway, or even win three like Troy Aikman or Brady, who still has time to win enough games to sit at the big table with Graham, Unitas, Montana and Elway. He didn't win a historic game the way Joe Willie Namath did. But he was out there every single game, not in a dome or the South Florida sun but in the snow and freezing cold without gloves, an athlete in the mold of Fran Tarkenton and a gunslinger of a passer who could have played in the American Football League.

Thank you, Brett Favre, for the best period in Packer history since Lombardi coached the team. From one 38-year-old to another, it was an honor to be a fan and I look forward to seeing what the team does this coming season and what your future holds as well. Hope you come back to flip the coin at kickoff.

Arik Johnson