There are two noble conventions of football journalism that will fall by the wayside should Brett Favre elect to sit his old ass down for good. The first is of the Werder-Mortensen "Sources: Favre eats soup" variety. And the second?
Take it away, Tim Layden:
His shoes and socks sat on the floor. Slowly he peeled off his white game pants and pulled a sleeveless undershirt over his head. He squirted white, gooey shampoo into his grey buzz cut and it began running down off his head.
Now Rice stood in front of Favre with a towel around his waist and they embraced until Favre dropped his head into the crook of Rice's neck ...
Ah, yes. Steamy Brett Favre slash fic. Part of me will miss this, if Favre does indeed retire (which is looking likely, according to Ed Werder's finger puppets). Our football media's gooey Favre love, at the very least, has allowed us to imagine a world in which someone has granted a press pass to Judith Krantz.
We got vintage Favre in what may have been the legend's final game [SI.com, h/t reader Joe]