Brett Favre, the Hamlet of Hattiesburg, finally made a decision, finally told the Vikings that, after teasing them for months, he intends to remain retired.
Favre should be ashamed of himself for toying with an entire organization. The Vikings should be ashamed of themselves for investing hope and faith in the most self-absorbed great quarterback in NFL history.
Favre was the Vikings' human lottery ticket, and the Vikings today feel like anyone who ever wasted their money on a long shot. The initial rush of adrenaline has been replaced by nausea and regret.
Thanks to Favre's belated and damaging decision, there are no winners in Minnesota.
The Wilfs, after dreaming of guaranteed sellouts and skyrocketing jersey sales, now will proceed with Tarvaris Jackson or Sage Rosenfels taking snaps.
Vikings coach Brad Childress, who kept his players in the dark while winking at Favre, now must pretend that he was a luxury instead of a necessity, that his current quarterbacks are good enough to win a playoff game, that this 12-car pileup of a courtship was nothing more than a fender bender. Nothing to see here, folks; please move along.
Jackson and Rosenfels will sheepishly take first-team snaps early in camp, knowing the Vikings preferred a 40-ish serial retiree coming off arm surgery over them.
Vikings fans, instead of dreaming of a Hall of Fame quarterback running a dynamic offense, will have to go back to hoping that Jackson or Rosenfels will miraculously become decisive readers of defenses and leaders of men.
Viking players will have to face Jackson and Rosenfels in the locker room and huddle, knowing that the current quarterbacks know that the team's stars were texting love letters to Favre.
Those of us who love a great story will miss Favre jogging onto Lambeau Field wearing purple, the consummation of perhaps the most stunning example in sports history of an iconic, Hall of Fame player synonymous with his franchise manipulating his way onto the roster of a rival.