Shangri-La. The Fountain of Youth. Unicorns. A quiet retirement by Brett Favre.

Quick, which of the preceding is not mythical?

Multiple news outlets reported yesterday that Favre is hanging up the cleats, rejecting a de facto offer by the Minnesota Vikings to start at their quarterback position for the 2009 season. Favre cited both the physical and emotional stress of the football season as the primary reason for remaining retired. In staying retired, Favre did what most considered unthinkable: he admitted defeat.

Favre is memorable for many things, some of which I’ll get to later, but he was not a quitter. He was the league’s ironman, its equivalent of Cal Ripken, Jr. He fought through countless injuries, played under the duress of personal anguish, and struggled with mediocre or poor play by himself or teammates. Even in 1995, when he checked himself into rehab for addiction to Vicodin and alcohol, Favre wasn’t really quitting. He was transforming himself, progressing, abandoning his party-boy image to save what was most important to him: his wife, his family, and a distant third, football. Favre went on to lead the Packers to two consecutive Super Bowls the years after he got out of rehab, winning Super Bowl XXXI.

The apex: Favre celebrating in Super Bowl XXXI, a victory over the New England Patriots

In the decade-plus that followed the glory years of the 90’s Packers, Favre developed from a perennial Pro Bowl into a first-ballot Hall of Famer. Analysts fawned over his grit, laughed off his “gunslinging” ways (much in the same way, it seems, Manny Ramirez apologists function) as part and parcel of his greatness, and gushed over his little-kid demeanor.

But like all the things we love, we only love them as long as they’re performing well. After a disastrous 2005 campaign in which the Packers went a measly 4-12, the questioning began. Why doesn’t Favre hang it up? He doesn’t have it anymore. GM Ted Thompson made the very first draft pick of his tenure a quarterback from Cal, Aaron Rodgers, his potential and talent overshadowed by a historic draft-day fall. Still, the team had to reboot. Even fans were convinced Favre was moving on. In week 17 of that year, the Packers defeated the playoff-bound Seattle Seahawks in a meaningless game. Yet, the fans serenaded Favre with a standing ovation. He led the league in interceptions. He was old. That was it.

A year later, fans went through the same rigamarole. In week 17, the Packers were 7-8 and while they still had a mathematical shot at making the postseason, it wasn’t happening. Still, NBC flexed their game against the Chicago Bears to the Sunday Night position, primarily because the world was yet again convinced it would be Favre’s last game. The Packers won (and missed the postseason anyway), and another offseason of will-he-won’t-he began.

In 2007, the unthinkable happened. Favre reeled himself in. He bought into coach Mike McCarthy’s offensive schemes. The interceptions dropped and the touchdowns increased. The emergence of Ryan Grant took pressure off the passing game, which included the impeccable play of Donald Driver and rookie Greg Jennings. Green Bay finished 13-3 and made it to the NFC Championship Game, losing in heartbreaking fashion at home to Eli Manning, Plaxico Burress, and the eventual champion New York Giants.

(As an aside, doesn’t that game seem super weird in retrospect? Neither offense played particularly well at all. The freezing temperatures made special teams a joke. The game was decided by an interception on a miscommunication between Favre and Driver. That game gets played ten more times, I bet the Packers win it nine. Good defensive line scheming by the Giants and a failure to roll secondary coverage toward the lone Giants threat, Burress, burned the game for Green Bay.)

Favre’s interception in the NFC Championship game was apparently the final final straw. Nevermind that almost the exact same scenario occurred five years previously, when Green Bay lost in the Divisional Round to Philadelphia in overtime. Favre chucked up a gopher ball to Brian Dawkins, sealing the fate of Green Bay. No one questioned Favre’s ability after that game, only the decision making process of a single play. Favre was as much to blame as head coach Mike Sherman or defensive coordinator Ed Donatell (who was canned shortly thereafter). But in 2007, Favre apparently didn’t have it, even after shocking the world with a glorious season. A season, remember, that included breaking the all-time records for touchdowns and passing yardage.

The nadir: An inch away from the Super Bowl, but the Giants stop Favre in his tracks.

Thompson couldn’t wait any longer. Favre understandably wanted time to figure out if it was worth coming back after such a gut-wrenching finish. The Packers wanted to know before the draft, before mini-camp, before training camp who their leader would be. Someone had to blink, and it wasn’t going to be Thompson. He had his own legacy to carve. A lot of ink was spilled on whether or not it was right to cut Favre loose, and some still think Thompson should have kept Favre at any cost. This is when the animosity against Favre really started. He was an egotistical narcissist. He wanted absolute control. He was engaged in a pissing contest against Thompson to show who really ran the team. (OK, the last one is kind of true. Favre recently admitted that one of his primary reasons for returning in 2008 was to prove to Thompson that he made the wrong decision in letting him go. Childish, maybe, but an emotion that we can all relate to.)

The fan favorite Favre became lumped in with the hemming and hawing of Roger Clemens, a man whose immaculate career was first tarnished by retirement qualms and later by steroid allegations. Favre already dealt with the scorn of being a drug user and had paid his penance for that. But the sports world, which moves quicker every day, had no tolerance for someone who wanted time to make a reasonable decision. Brett Favre earned his money from his athletic ability, and it was his right to take his time to decide whether or not the ability still resided in that cannon arm, nimble feet, and quick reflexes. Wasn’t it obvious that an ironman had the best perception whether or not his body would hold up?

Perhaps he was wrong and the rest of us were right. In 2008, he was traded to the New York Jets and played relatively well for half a season, then incurred a biceps injury and faded down the stretch along with the team. He was characterized as aloof and not a team player by some (notably running back Thomas Jones), but others loved him (notably wide receiver Chancey Stuckey). Still, we nodded with the smug assurance that he should have retired long ago. Would we act with such bravado had the Jets won a game or two more and advanced to the playoffs? What if Broadway Brett had gotten New York to the AFC Championship or even the Super Bowl? Our own egos are safe because his arm failed.

And that was again the question this summer. Favre retired but the rumors persisted he was planning a comeback with the Vikings, rumors so hot that the Packers actually filed a tampering charge against Minnesota (which was dismissed). Yes, if he had felt he could do it, it’s easy to imagine a purple-and-gold number 4 taking the field at the Metrodome to the sound of applause instead of boos. It would have been surreal and strange to grasp, far stranger than seeing Emmitt Smith in an Arizona Cardinals uniform, Joe Montana as a Kansas City Chief, or Favre himself as a Jet (at least the Jets wear green). Instead, it’s a pipe dream for those curious to see if Brett could have pulled it off. And admit it, even if you were one of those people who hated Favre for his Hamlet-esque indecision, you would have tuned in to that first Packers/Vikings tilt in November.

He’s a generational icon. He has records that will probably be broken, and others that may not. I’m guessing his consecutive starts streak and total interceptions are two that have the potential to last. Brett Favre finally made a decision none of us saw coming, and it’s unanimously the right one. Some will speculate that with Minnesota’s offensive line, Adrian Peterson, and an above-average defense, Favre was the missing piece the Vikings needed to make the Super Bowl. I think that’s stretching the limits of the imagination. What we can say is that Brett was a once-in-a-lifetime quarterback. I’m everlastingly thankful for having him on my team from the time I could remember watching football as a kindergartner all the way through accepting my college diploma. That sort of run doesn’t happen for fans.

Instead of frustation or shock or antipathy, my resounding emotion to Favre calling it quits is that of gratitude. I’m thankful for the Thanksgiving games against Detroit, cheering him on with a plateful of hot turkey and stuffing. I loved knowing that every week meant Favre was suiting up. That pass in Super Bowl XXXI, that beautiful audible to Andre Rison, is still arcing forever in my memory. Watching his 399-yard, 4-touchdown performance in Oakland days after his father died gives me chills to this day, and I imagine, always will.

I hope, selfishly, that I’ll see Brett again in football, perhaps as a coach roaming the sidelines, laughing and slapping the helmets of rookie quarterbacks and giving them pointers. I don’t know that it’ll ever be like that, and the last public appearance by Brett might be his Hall of Fame induction speech in 2014. Still, it’s better this way, and Brett realized it. Time for us to face the sobering truth that the most exciting quarterback in football won’t be there come September.