Moss, Favre and the L word

Michael Moses

I wish Randy Moss and Brett Favre would go back where they belong: in a navy No. 81 jersey, and a green No. 4 jersey.

It’s only been four weeks, but I already miss Brady-to-Moss, the surprisingly quiet but ever-so-deadly deep ball threat in an organization that prides itself on sportsmanship and class. It’s been way too long since Brett Favre was slinging passes to Antonio Freeman, Bubba Franks and Donald Driver. This NFL season, I’ve learned one thing that’s for certain: Fans care more about the L word than players themselves do. The L word being “legacies.”

With all of the drama surrounding Brett Favre and his retirements, the streak, Brad Childress, Jenn Sterger and “sexting,” the fractured ankle, the lacerated chin and the carting off the field, I wonder how fans of my generation will remember arguably the best quarterback in NFL history.

We know Brett doesn’t care how you remember him. We know he just wants to keep playing football. And of course, you can’t take that away from a man. If he wants to continue to play the game he loves, then may God bless him.

But deep down, I want to remember him as the passionate player sprinting on the field in a green No. 4 Packers jersey, fist pumping and smiling. With every bruise and allegation, though, those days seem further and further away.

Randy Moss was trouble since he walked into the league, but damn was he phenomenal. He’s the greatest deep ball threat in NFL history. I remember being in the third grade, rocking my No. 84 purple Vikings jersey out on the playground. I was Randy Moss in recess and my best friend was Randall Cunningham. Moss wasn’t just a word, he was a verb.

When he went to the New England Patriots, he met his match made in heaven: coach Bill Belichick. Belichick basically put it like this: “I can win with you or without you. But I can definitely shine a positive light on you.” And that’s what they did. They broke NFL single season records together with quarterback Tom Brady, all the while straightening out his image.

Sadly, this season, Randy went retro Moss. Locker room issues resulted in a trade by the franchise that saved his career back to the team that gave birth to a legend. He joined the other man, Favre, who couldn’t call it quits. “Pull your 84 jerseys out, this is going to be a fun ride,” Moss exclaimed. It seemed like a storybook ending to a rollercoaster career for Randy.

But after just four weeks, Moss was cut after basically confessing his love to the Patriots organization while Minnesota was in New England. During the game, Brett Favre was beaten to a pulp and looked like a corpse as he was carted off the field. All the talk among fans, once again, was why he came back. Why did he tarnish his legacy? More importantly, how do two teammates — two all-time greats — potentially have career defining situations during the same game?

In a perfect (sports) world, both Brett Favre and Randy Moss would still be employed with the teams that made them who they are and defined their legacies. Wouldn’t you like to see Brady to Moss and Favre to Driver again?

As a fan, I want them back where they belong. And that’s not in Minnesota.

Contact Michael Moses at

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