I hate writing about this topic, so much so that I can’t even be bothered to downshift and transfer this post to the third person like I always do. The only challenge this week will be seeing if I can write 800 words without including anything that could be construed as a double entendre.
Brett Favre might be the most reported-upon athlete of my lifetime. Regrettably, little of that media coverage focuses on his powerful arm, his speedy setup and release, his ability to overcome average mechanics to consistently find receivers downfield, or his superlative longevity.
No, the coverage focuses on his first retirement. His father dying hours before a Monday night game and Brett eking out a win. His grandchild. His second retirement. His enthusiasm for Vicodin, as if a guy whose job includes regularly getting the wind knocked out of him by fast and gigantic men should just play through the pain. His third and fourth retirements. His childlike enthusiasm, just a kid having fun out there! His final comeback, spurred by his daughter saying (I swear to God I saw Favre say this or something close to it on TV), “’Daddy, do you think you could win one more Super Bowl for me?’” (As long as he was concocting folklore, why not give her leukemia while he was at it?) And yes, maybe a story or 2 on the penis shots.
I tweeted earlier this week that Babe Ruth wouldn’t have made it to 714 home runs today. He would have incurred a 2,000-game suspension somewhere along the line for defiling a willing groupie with a champagne bottle. What about the first time Wilt Chamberlain mailed a Polaroid of the Little Dipper to a receptive white woman? Forget about it. David Stern would have ordered sensitivity training with a licensed therapist, whom Wilt would have almost certainly ended up bedding.
What does this have to do with personal finance? A fanciful Forbes post that I refuse to link to claims that Favre’s 2-year old texts to a woman who looks uncannily like his wife will cost him $100 million in lost salary, endorsements and speaking fees. Just for the record, those texts went to a woman who exposed her own genitalia to anyone willing to buy the relevant issue of Playboy.
It’s that kind of innumerate nonsense that doesn’t deserve a response, but to summarize:
- He’s 41. His playing career’s almost over, this time for real. He’s going to get paid through the year, and likely wasn’t going to find a contract for 2011 anyway.
- There was no breakdown between retirement-era speaking fees and endorsements in the Forbes estimate, but let’s say half and half? That’d be roughly 4 billion speaking appearances. (What, I can’t play fast and loose with numbers, too?) However many appearances it is, that sort of schedule would defeat the purpose of being retired.
- Does Jenn Sterger really want to claim harassment? She hasn’t done so formally. Hopefully she’d appreciate the irony of someone whose fame derives exclusively from exploiting her own sexuality painting herself as a victim. Even if she is that mercenary, a couple hundred thousand ought to shut her up.
- Favre isn’t Roman Polanski. Or Mike Tyson. Or even Ben Roethlisberger. Or even Zeke Mowatt. Favre is a sexual harasser like Deion Sanders is a felon (he got arrested once. For fishing out of season.)
The worst part about the “$100 million” figure, aside from its basis in something other than reality, is that it reignites the tired catcalling about how athletes are overpaid. I’d do his job for nothing, how does being able to throw a tight spiral benefit society, teachers should get more than quarterbacks (well, maybe JaMarcus Russell), etc.
Favre will take home 8 digits this year, and that must have some nefarious connection to the small hourly wage that Metrodome game-day personnel make. Or to the starting salary for a teacher in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area.
No, Favre’s riches derive from one thing: how much revenue he can generate: or more accurately, his employers’ assessment of how much revenue he can generate.
Having Favre in the backfield means Vikings center John Sullivan isn’t snapping the ball to empty space, which would result in an 0-16 season. More practically speaking, having Favre around means Tarvaris Jackson isn’t the Vikings’ starting quarterback. (Granted, starting Favre at quarterback this season has resulted in only 1 victory. But again, Vikings’ ownership was projecting from what Favre had done throughout his nonpareil career, culminating in taking his team to within a couple of plays of the Super Bowl the previous season.)
Favre’s fame and longevity make whatever personal charisma he has more visible. That means that if he can recite a line and look at a camera somewhat convincingly, Sears can hire him to sell TVs. Or VFC, parent of Wrangler, can hire Favre to sell jeans. We don’t know how many TV or jeans sales to attribute to Favre being on camera, but presumably they’re enough to make it worthwhile to have him on the payroll.
The teacher who keeps the peace in an elementary school classroom, staying in the ultimate professional comfort zone while finishing work at 3:00 every afternoon and getting summers off, has skills that are easy to find and replicate. Same with the retiree who takes tickets at the Metrodome entrance. If that teacher can get 64,111 students into her class, at prices ranging from $39 to $143, and sell the broadcast rights to her classes for a few million, then she can start complaining about being underpaid.
**This post is featured in the Carnival of Personal Finance #281**