Brett Favre is the only 3-time MVP in the history of the NFL
A baseball bat hit Brett Favre right on his forehead when he was a four-year-old bat boy.
"He didn't even cry," Irvin Favre, Brett's dad, says. "The doctor said it hurt the woman who took him to the hospital more than it hurt Brett."
You may wonder how the Packers quarterback takes shots like that from NFL defenders and keeps on playing. Brett and his dad discuss his toughest hits, and just how he gets up from them:
Number 6: Irvin coached Favre at Hancock High, and they faced Pearl River Central. "Brett was bigger than any lineman back then," Irvin says. "Well, he hits this lineman so hard it knocks them both down. Brett was so sore after the game. But he never complained."
"That's probably true," Brett says. "I did block."
Number 5: "The worst hit I remember in college was a game at Auburn," Brett says. "The defensive back, I never saw him, and he hit me right here," he says, pointing to his chin. "It was Carlo Cheatum. I'll never forget his name. You live and learn."
Number 4: Greg Lloyd, Aug. 13, 1995, at Pittsburgh (preseason). "Yah, I keep forgetting that one," Brett says. Wonder why. Lloyd hit Favre and knocked him silly. "That would definitely be in the top 5," he says.
Number 3: vs. Pittsburgh Steelers, Dec. 24, 1995. Remember that streak of blood trickling down Favre's chin as he led a scoring drive to win the division title? So does Brett. "I tried running into the end zone, got smushed by two guys. I ended up coughing up blood."
Number 2: The baseball bat incident.
"(Leon Farmer) was in the on-deck circle - nailed me," Brett says. "I had a big egg on my head. If I cried, it was because I figured that's what I was supposed to do. I used to cry when I'd get a whuppin'. It didn't hurt, but I didn't want to get another one. I would cry to fool people."
These days, Favre does the opposite. He gets up to jaw with defenders after a painful hit.
"I look at this game as being brutal, and you've got to get up if you can. Other players don't look at it that way. But jumping up, and pumping up our players and fans, it may give us an advantage. I'll use anything I can, including my body."
Number 1: The car crash the summer before his senior year at Southern Mississippi. Brett subsequently had 33 inches removed from his intestine.
"Had the surgery August eighth, ended up starting against Alabama September eighth," he says.
"That was a tough time for the whole family," Irvin says.
"What's different about that," Brett says, "is you sprain an ankle or something, you're still in the swing of things. Back then, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't run, couldn't walk, couldn't lift weights. I lost 35 pounds. When I put my uniform on, it was just kind of saggin' on me. It was a struggle the whole way."
Would he do it over again?
"Probably, knowing me," he says. "That wasn't the smart thing to do. The doctor said I wouldn't play all year. Better yet, the first game of the season. Nobody thought I would play. We beat Alabama that day, and we hadn't beaten them in 15 years. So maybe it pumped our guys up."
It pumps up his Packer teammates. They're used to it, but not sick of it.
"They laugh in the huddle," Brett says. "Frankie (Winters) always tells me, 'You're the craziest son-of-a- --- I've ever seen.'"
One hundred-and-one straight starts. Two Super Bowls. Irvin can't understand it when critics complain about his son's play.
"He has bent over backwards for this team," Irvin says. "Brett's a hard worker, lifts weights, studies, he gives to charity. But people don't want to hear that. I just try to tell him, 'One day you're a good 'ol boy, and the next you're an S.O.B.'"
And yet, Brett has always gotten up.