...and into the "nerve center" as I call the cupboard where I store my old Apple Mac. I googled Favre and read what was being said about me. Half an hour later I came out shaking and went for a lie-down.
Deanna came in and lay down beside me. "What's the matter, Brett?" she enquired, gently. When did I become a joke, I asked in reply. She took hold of me and I began to sob, at first softly, then more loudly and insistently, and eventually I was wailing and thrashing around like that kid in Exorcist, an image accentuated by my having my face painted by Breleigh in Packer green. Deanna slapped me hard and stunned me into the moment. You're Brett freakin' Favre, she shouted, and don't ever freakin' forget that! Yes, I thought. Yes I am! I'm Brett freakin' FAVRE! And no, I can't ever forget that. It's a never-ending nightmare.