Whenever a major public figure undergoes some pseudo-operatic drama or other in the glare of the spotlight, our uptown correspondent Ben Greenman writes the libretto (in his “day job” capacity at the New Yorker).
And thus, Brett Favre gets the Greenman musical treatment:
And so it goes. And so it is.
Yet another vexed offseason.
My body’s old. My ankle’s weak.
I weigh passion against reason.