Green Bay - This was supposed to be fun and games. A chance to give back. A chance to relax.

On a 2008 off-season visit to an Alaska military base, Aaron Rodgers and other Green Bay Packers players stopped at a basketball gym on the base. Inside were a group of kids. Former teammate Ruvell Martin estimates they were 15, maybe 16 years old. The players asked if they could shoot around. The kids obliged. Hilarity ensued.

Down low, Rodgers went up for a shot, and one of those 15-year-olds swatted it away. The quarterback got his own rebound, pump-faked and rose again.

"And the kid swats him again," said Martin, who played with Rodgers in Green Bay from 2006-'08. "We're like, 'Ohhhhh!' and thinking it's hilarious. Aaron gets the rebound again, and you can tell he's starting to get frustrated now."

He couldn't laugh it off, couldn't let it go. This time, Rodgers jabbed the kid. He "pushed him away," Martin said, and shot again.

"And the kid swats his shot again," Martin said. "It happened like three or four times in a row, and I don't think Aaron even ended up getting a shot off."

Martin and teammates coiled in laughter. That's just Aaron, they say. Ultracompetitive, Aaron. He couldn't shrug off the embarrassment. He needed to fight back. This is what separates the greats. A 24 / 7 hatred for losing. Maybe it's a card game. Maybe it's the New York Giants' pass rush. Behind those quirky State Farm commercials is a ruthless competitor.

Everyone knows Rodgers' story. He was undersized and hardly recruited. He waited in the green room at the NFL draft for 4 hours and 35 minutes. He lived in Brett Favre's Ashwaubenon-sized shadow for three excruciating years. Motivation has never been a problem.

At the core, he's competitive.

"It really doesn't matter," Martin said. "He wants to win. He's very competitive. It would have been different if he just got his shot blocked and let it be, but the fact that he was actually trying after that was kind of funny."

Before Aaron Rodgers was Aaron Rodgers, he was a forgotten man at Pleasant Valley High School in Chico, Calif. He received zero Division I scholarship offers. His senior year, he decided to play baseball. Rodgers hadn't even played the sport in five years.

And baseball coach Ron Souza remembers one game vividly, one game that revealed what all of those colleges missed while analyzing this productive yet undersized quarterback prospect: His "never forget" attitude.

Against Foothill High School, Rodgers faced a hulking 6-foot-3, 220-pound pitcher who could throw 93, 94 mph. And midway through the game, he fired a fastball toward Rodgers' ribs. Rodgers sprawled to the ground to avoid the missile.

"And just to look at Aaron's face," Souza said. "He climbs out of the box, gets up and takes a step at the guy."

Only, Rodgers hit the brakes. He didn't charge the mound. Instead, he internalized his rage. He archived that pitch. He didn't say anything to Souza in the dugout. But two innings later, something was said "in about 2.2 seconds," Souza laughed.

This time, the Foothill pitcher was batting and Rodgers gunned a pitch over the brim of his helmet. The batter didn't rush the mound. Instead, Rodgers walked toward him. He made it halfway before the two were split up.

"That kid wasn't expecting it," Souza said. "He backed down. He stepped out and looked around like 'What the hell?' He never had somebody, I'm sure, come back at him.

"Aaron is a very, very driven guy that's extremely competitive. He doesn't let go of things. He uses self-motivation. If you don't respect him as a player, he's going to store that away and two or three years later you'll pay for it."

Immediately - seconds into their first sit-down introduction - Butte College's Craig Rigsbee noticed this quality. Mom was there. Dad was there. Rodgers' little brother was there. And Rigsbee made his pitch.

Before he even mentioned the names of the quarterbacks returning, Rodgers cut him short.

"Coach, not to be rude, but I'll stop you," Rigsbee recalled Rodgers telling him. "I don't care who you have coming back. The only question I have is will I have a legitimate chance to play if I earn it?"

Rigsbee said "absolutely," and within two weeks Rodgers had the job. All other coaches were skeptical. They wanted Rigsbee to start the incumbent. The head coach told them Rodgers would be 10 times better in two days. He was right.

Rodgers' competitive nature galvanized Butte. Surrounded by teammates from Canada and the military who were six or seven years older, Rodgers commanded respect.

"They were following him and doing whatever he told them to do," Rigsbee said, "and he couldn't even buy a beer yet."

One catch: The demeanor can never waver. There cannot be an on/off switch. Rodgers is a competitor at everything.

At the University of California, Rodgers and teammates played poker once a week. Wide receiver Vincent Strang said Rodgers used a "stone cold" demeanor to win 75% of the time. He rarely lost, because you never knew when he was bluffing. Rodgers competes at one, unwavering level.

"We have a nice barbecue for the Fourth of July in San Diego every year," Strang said, "and it doesn't matter if we're horseshoes or pingpong or whatever, he's going to win it. If he doesn't, he calls 'next.' "

This edgy approach helped Rodgers get through those first three seasons in the NFL. On the scout team, he tried to burn the No. 1 defense daily. Former Packers receiver Terrence Murphy, who came into the league with Rodgers in 2005, still remembers linebacker Nick Barnett barking, "Hey, man, don't you know this is practice?!" Martin? He overheard assistant coaches muttering, "This is supposed to be a defensive period."

Rodgers and the backups ignored such pleas.

"We weren't having any of that," said Martin, who now plays for the Buffalo Bills. "It was all led by Aaron. It was definitely led by him and his demeanor. You're talking about a guy who's a first-round draft pick, a rookie, and he's as serious as can be. He says, 'We're going to go out there and beat these guys.' "

Back in 2005, Murphy and Rodgers called each other "Sidekick." They were roommates at St. Norbert College during training camp and competed at everything. The duo never joined forces on the field. Three games into his career, Murphy suffered a career-ending neck injury. But three years later, there they were in the Virgin Islands.

Murphy invited Rodgers to his wedding, and the two teamed up to take on locals in beach volleyball.

It got ugly, Murphy said. A brawl nearly broke out.

"We were out to kill 'em," Murphy said. "We were spiking it on their heads and getting pissed. We were serious. It wasn't some sand-and-water leisure. That's why I love that guy. I always knew he'd be great. He's a great guy, he's competitive."

When Rodgers and the Packers won the Super Bowl last year, part of Murphy was bitter. That was his guy hoisting the championship belt. They dreamed of those moments as rookies. As the confetti fell at Cowboys Stadium, he snapped out of it.

Now, Murphy is a real estate agent in College Station, Texas. His goal - his Super Bowl - is to be named one of the nation's "30 under 30" real estate agents.

"I'm not going to lie," Murphy said. "He motivated me from a million miles away."

Today, as the face of the franchise, Rodgers is the same way. Only now, it permeates throughout the roster. Now, his influence is more presidential than congressional.

"He doesn't want to lose at anything, and that's important," rookie tight end Ryan Taylor said. "You can't just be great sometimes. You have to do it all the time. It's definitely something he instills in our team."

He's still on the verge of returning a 92-mph heater. Usually, Rodgers internalizes. His arch-nemesis in cards these days is fullback John Kuhn. Backup quarterback Matt Flynn has spotted the two throwing cards at each other. Rodgers and Kuhn will go full days without talking to each other. They'll "crawl into a shell all angry about it," Flynn said.

Still, that's a Jordan trait, a Kobe trait, a Manning trait.

"With all the great players, you hear how competitive they were in small things off the field," safety Charlie Peprah said. "You hear how Michael Jordan cheated somebody's mom out of a card game. That's how competitive he was. That's a sign of greatness, of a true competitor."

After that 15-year-old in Alaska embarrassed Rodgers on the basketball court, Martin - still catching his breath from laughing so hard - asked him if he knew who Rodgers was. He didn't. He had no clue.

Chances are, he does today.

Rodgers is aiming for his first MVP award and second Super Bowl ring. He's only 28 years old, too. This run could last a while. And Peprah knows why.

"True competitors don't like to lose," Peprah said. "That's what makes him great."

Tyler Dunne  wrote: