[img_r]http://media.jsonline.com/images/185*107/mjs-jennings-13ofx-spt-wood-jennings.jpg[/img_r]Those poor referees. Do you ever pity them? You should.

Why?

Because they really hear it from Greg Jennings.

It starts with stunned wide eyes and gives way to displeasure . . . How could they miss that? Then the arms come out, palms up, pleading for reasoning. It's never disrespectful, but Jennings must make them understand: They got it wrong.

Jennings is a lot of things besides a star wide receiver for the 7-4 Green Bay Packers - among them, a winner.

He's going to be right. It takes a mountain of evidence to prove otherwise.

His wife Nicole did it once.

He swore he bought their little girl a SpongeBob yellow tennis racket from Wal-Mart. She says, slowly, that no, he bought the one with Dora the Explorer.

But Greg remembers how badly his little Amya wanted that racket, and he adores his girl. Had to be SpongeBob. He could not let it go.

The marriage forensics raged between Greg and Nicole through the night - in a way that only happens between couples who are also best friends - until finally Greg called and roused his sister Ebony from her bed at a most unreasonable hour, made her drive over to his condominium in Kalamazoo, Mich., and go into the closet and pull out the racket. Greg demanded a picture be sent to his phone, too, for proof.

It was Dora.

"Got two brand new purses out of it," said Nicole. "Woot!"

Still, Jennings is one of those men who has to be right even when he isn't right in the head. During the exhibition season this year, he suffered a concussion and blacked out. On the sideline, trainers asked a woozy Jennings, "Who is the president?" Barack Obama never entered his mind; he replied "George Bush."

But after the grogginess wore off, Jennings began questioning the trainers. Still does, to this day.

"No, they were asking me who the previous president was," said Jennings. "I'm pretty sure."

OK, Greg (it's just easier to say that sometimes).

But, again, those poor referees.

As Packers fans have grown to know and rely on Jennings for those 225 receptions, it is clear there's a reason he has to be right. To do what he's done, to get where he's gotten, to go where he's headed - he's got to do things the right way.

A perfectionist survives

Realistically, this 5-foot-11 (and a half, he adds) man probably should not be in the NFL. Blessed with great hands and adequate speed - but perhaps not much else beyond incredible discipline - Jennings always has been about working his way up.

He would be the only receiver to meet former Packers quarterback Brett Favre on the off days and go over film work. A year later, he would catch Favre's NFL-record 421st touchdown pass.

After leading the Packers in receiving yards last year with 1,292, Jennings is on a hot streak now with 127 yards against San Francisco and 53 at Detroit. He is the deep threat, with 21 catches of 20 or more yards, second most in the NFL.

"He's the kind of guy who catches five for 127 last week and the week before he had 4 for 45," said Green Bay quarterback Aaron Rodgers. "You didn't notice a difference in his attitude. Obviously whenever we get him the ball it helps our offense, but you love a guy who brings the same kind of energy and enthusiasm every week."

At work, Jennings has everything in order. His foot locker is full of a dozen or more shoes that are neatly lined up in evenly spaced rows; dozens of gloves hang like bats from the shelf. Receivers coach Jimmy Robinson was blown away that Jennings picked up all three receiver position formations in the 2-minute drill in his first week of camp. "Just exceptional at understanding," said Robinson.

"He details his craft pretty good," said receiver James Jones. "He wants to run his route perfect. He wants to break on this foot, from this amount of yards. When you get a guy after those details, you can go a long way, as you can see with him."

Nicole gets that. She's seen him prepare and sacrifice to get to the NFL.

But that's football. Does it have to be with everything, she asks, looking around their modern Green Bay-area home, with furniture and accents in soothing caramels and earth tones interrupted by primary red, green and blue plastic toys of their toddler daughter Amya and infant daughter Alea?

"He is such the perfectionist. Oh my goodness, such the perfectionist," said Nicole. "I don't vacuum. Wanna know why? I don't make the lines. We just messed up our lines today and our house was cleaned yesterday. When we get our lines we have to walk aroouunnnndd the chair. Like, that's the path, because we can't walk iiinnnnn the carpet lines.

"I don't need lines. I don't fold clothes. I don't iron. I just hope that it looks nice when I put it on. He . . . "

"I fold clothes. I iron," said Greg.

Jennings even gets facials and manicures, said Nicole. He makes a face like he wishes his wife had not just announced that. Nicole asks, you didn't like the yoga?

"It was a package deal," Greg explained in a whisper.

"He gets annoyed when I put pants on Amya that are wrinkled," continued Nicole. "But I figure, hey, she's 2. No one's really paying attention. . . . You know what I mean? But daddy does."

Jennings purses his lips together on this one. No sense arguing with his soul mate who has known him since they were children. The thing is, Jennings does care about everything in his life. They are, in purposeful order: God, family, Packers.

"Football is not No. 1 on his list," said Robinson. "It's no higher than No. 3."

Foundation in faith

Jennings' father, Greg Sr., is the pastor at Progressive Deliverance Ministries in Kalamazoo, Mich., while his mother, Gwen, is a missionary. His parents had an inherent sense of right and wrong with little gray area and taught those morals and values at home. It was all reinforced in church, Jennings' second home. He played guitar and drums and sang there.

Jennings felt his best when he did things right.

"That is really what anchored everything, faith and my father, I had the best role model ever," said Jennings. "Religion was first and foremost. Putting God first. Recognizing who has allowed you to be who you are and giving you the gifts that you have.

"I learned when I was younger. I was quite a good drummer and I was bragging and boasting, closing my eyes because I thought I was just super good. I remember my mom telling me, 'You need to stop doing that because God gave you that gift and he can take it from you.' The next Sunday I was playing the drums and I couldn't do anything. Couldn't do any fancy stuff, any little runs, all I could do was keep the beat.

"From that point on I never bragged about my athletic skills, I never boasted about anything. Everything was a quiet confidence. There was no need to say, 'Oh, I'm the man.' I've never been that guy and that's why I will never be that guy. This gift has been given to me and it can be taken away."

When Jennings left Kalamazoo - the only home he knew and where he also attended college at Western Michigan - and lived in Green Bay alone as a rookie in 2006, newfound money, fame, opportunities and freedom did nothing to ease his homesickness. It did nothing to fade his faith, either.

"I would put gospel songs on and sit in that chair and just cry," said Jennings. "I kid you not."

When his friends and teammates swear around Jennings, they often quickly apologize. He doesn't drink or smoke and doesn't keep close friends who do. He does not push an agenda, either. If you're looking for his Christianity, you'll simply have to study the way he lives his life.
Family a priority

And that starts with his family. A picture of him and Nicole embracing hangs over their fireplace. There are no trophies or football snapshots. Jennings co-parents with Nicole rather than relieves her.

"He changes diapers. He goes grocery shopping," said Nicole. "When I was in the hospital with Alea, he did Amya's hair. . . . It was funny, but it was done! Really we don't even need a sitter because when he comes home from football he takes the girls."

He's not looking for approval for doing this; Jennings just knows that if he didn't prop Amya in his arms at Lambeau for a meeting, or go to the pet store to watch her hide behind his jacket because the fish that keeps staring at her is freaking her out, he would miss out on the treasured moments that make parenting worthwhile.

But even before his daughters came along, Greg was focused on family - his three siblings, his extended family, Nicole. When he didn't have it in Green Bay at first, he tried to recreate it.

"Greg's a big homebody," said Nicole. "Even his rookie year, if I called, he was home. The guys would be here playing pool. We've never been the ones, 'My gosh, we've got to go out.' I guess we could be labeled as boring, but we have a blast."

Jennings' kinship extends to his Packers family as well, which has left him raw at times. Football isn't like church or family, a fraternity to stand up through time and distance. This is fleeting. That's been hard.

More than anyone else, former Packers receiver Robert Ferguson mentored Jennings his first year, and when Jennings beat Ferguson for a job, it crushed Jennings. When roommate Ruvell Martin was cut before this season, Jennings bought four going-away cards. One wasn't nearly enough.

"When Ferg left, I was sick. Sick. You build the relationships and then they're torn by the business aspect," Jennings said. "When I first got here, I sat in the lobby where the Lombardi trophies are and I called Nicole and said, 'Babe, I don't know if I can do this.' My voice was trembling. I wanted to cry the second day of training camp. It was too much like a business. Guys didn't care about other guys. Everybody is in it for themselves."

Jennings prayed about how to handle it, not how to care about other people - that wouldn't change.

In Rodgers there is hope

One of the things that keeps Jennings going is his faith in his quarterback.

Their relationship already has endured the transition from Favre's departure to Rodgers' emergence. Some may argue Jennings' finest season was his second - Favre's last in Green Bay. Jennings averaged a career-best 17.4 yards per catch and had 12 touchdowns for the Packers team that lost to the New York Giants in the NFC Championship Game.

Losing Favre could unsettle any receiver, but in Rodgers, Jennings sees a future of Pro Bowls and playoffs and championship pursuits. And he acts like he knows it will happen the way he knows snow is coming in winter.

"Looking at Aaron, watching what he's able to do given time, given protection . . . shhhhh," said Jennings, shaking his head, amazed. "Seriously. We've had glimpses of it. The sky's the limit. The stars are the limit."

Jennings sees a character trait he believes he shares with Rodgers.

"His will to win. He's almost afraid to lose. He just does not want to be that guy to lose. Period," said Jennings. "He has this persona about him, this demeanor, where he always feels like he needs to prove somebody wrong. That's a chip that a lot of guys have that some voice and some don't.

"But he just has this aura about him that, and he's not going to say it - he shouldn't say it or he would come off a little arrogant - but he knows that he could be great."

Jennings and Rodgers, who work together every off-season here for voluntary workouts, have talked about building something great in Green Bay.

"We talked about, when he re-did his contract last year, the opportunity to work together for a number of years," said Rodgers. "Me being here, signed for six years, I hope that had something to do with him re-signing. I hope it did, him wanting to build together something with me."

Jennings signed a three-year contract extension this summer. Success, he hopes, comes sooner rather than later.

This will not last forever

That concussion in the third preseason game at Arizona renewed concerns for Jennings. If he gets the son he wants one day, Greg will put a golf club in his hand - never a football.

"I was out before I hit the ground," said Jennings. "I do remember that. Man, it was scary. There's a portion of that game I just don't remember. I watched the film the next day and didn't know any of that took place."

With Greg's motionless body on the ground and the defensive back posturing, the broadcast went to commercial and Nicole lost it watching from home.

"See, if there's anything that I want to be done, I ask Greg," said Nicole. "If I needed him to build an addition to this house, he will do it. If he was on a plane that crashed, he knows I'm coming to get him because I know he's alive. He is Mr. Invincible.

"So for my Mr. Invincible to be on the field, like . . . I don't even want to talk about it anymore. That . . . can't . . . be Greg. Because nobody can hurt Greg."

Greg got up.

He didn't have a clue about the president or exactly where he was, but he knew enough to tell a trainer to call his wife immediately and tell her he was OK.

Teammate Donald Driver wants to play until he is 40, Favre already has and most NFL players keep marching on as long as there's a roster spot for them somewhere. Anywhere.

That will not be Jennings.

One of Jennings' childhood heroes, Barry Sanders, called it quits well before a possible decline. Jennings might, too. There is a date when football ends for him; he will know it when it comes. Robinson warned that in this Green Bay offense with so many playmakers, a 100-catch season for one player is unlikely. If Jennings makes a Pro Bowl, he will have to stand out on his own team first.

After that - even though everyone says he would be a natural for football broadcasting - Jennings will go into the ministry.

"I hate people seeing me just as a football player," said Jennings. "Football is a huge part, it is our financial backing, but at the same time, if football was discontinued right now, we would be fine.

"I want to experience being a father to my daughters without football being in the way. And being a husband without football being in the way. Letting Nicole make some decisions instead of always following what I have to do. I seriously don't see myself playing forever. At the draft I told her, 'I'm not playing more than 10 years.'

"Man, this is - I love it. But I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. Once I'm done with football, I'm done with football. I'm not one that's going to need to be seen again."