Well, at least he won’t be nominated for “Comeback Player of the Year” at the ESPY’s.

Wanna know why? Because this isn’t a comeback. The last time the Packers played a game of any significance, he was their quarterback. The last time the Packers updated their depth chart, he sat at the top of his position. The Packers still own Brett Favre’s rights, because Brett Favre is still under contract. What does it matter that Favre is missing training camp? Michael Strahan did that once upon a time, too, and the mere “speculation” of his retirement was more convincing than Favre’s “actual” retirement. Until the Packers played at least half of 2008, I wouldn’t have thought Favre was totally gone.

No, folks: Brett Favre is not coming back to football, because Brett Favre never left football. I don’t care what he said during some press conference. I don’t care about the sobbing, the conviction in his decision, or the fact that he admitted to being burned out. Everyone’s burned out at the end of every season. Everyone has to do some soul searching from time to time. Everyone has to examine the past, ponder the present, and wonder which direction the two are pointing.

You can probably hear me ranting these words as you read this, and that’s because I am. We have to visit, revisit, and re-revisit this merciless and never-ending cycle of “so-and-so is back!” crap more often than I go to the bathroom, and even if I had to take Avodart, I’d still be beaten. MJ’s second comeback was silly. Bjorn Borg’s was embarrassing. Floyd Mayweather, Jr.’s was once inevitable and remains inevitable. Ricky Williams puffs bammy and that hasn’t stopped him—he’ll surface in a Dutch league, or something. And to be completely honest, I just had to Google whether or not Roger Clemens is currently retired. Wikipedia has him listed as a “free agent.”

This half-hearted commitment to retirement is nothing new; in fact, it’s old, it’s decrepit, and it should die.

Really, I don’t care that Brett Favre plans on going out like Willie Mays. This is what star athletes do—they wrestle with the thought of hanging it up. One minute, you think your mind is made up, and the next, you’re not so sure, because you’re a star for a reason—you have drive, you have heart, you have commitment, you have “it”. I can’t imagine being in Brett Favre’s position and trying to discover whether or not I still have “it”, because that can only be borne on the field. And until Brett Favre has his throwing arm snapped off, throws 30 picks in a season, or plays on a 14-loss team, Favre and guys like him will always have to wonder if they have any of “it” left.

But for all of this hoopla to be treated as if it is some spectacle—some story of legitimate shock and wonder—is so absurd, I can’t even speak on the subject. I’m so dumbfounded by it, my voice is mute, and what would otherwise be an Ari Gold-esque tirade is finding its way onto a computer screen. How can this even register as news? My lawn happens to be green this morning; should I call CNN? My cat meowed not once, but twice when I pulled the ham out of the fridge (and just don’t go there); I’ll inform the paper.

This is so commonplace. This is so predictable. This is so not worth our time. But here I am, being hypocritical and telling you why we, who includes me, shouldn’t care about Brett Favre. I suppose I have leeway, though—if Favre can give an Academy Award-winning performance as “The Man Who Quit the Game He Loved”, only to resurface months later with rumors and text messages that made Aaron Rodgers awaken in a cold sweat and the Packers front office collectively drink itself under the table trying to find a way out of the subsequent mess (I mean, there’s no way they didn’t do that one night), I can have a bit of latitude when it comes to my self-labeled hypocrisy.

What Favre is doing may or may not be right for him. However, it is certainly not right for his franchise, and that is condemnable. He puts his teammates and fans in a bind; teammates and fans he surely still places in front of himself.

Surely.

Do you remember that kid who wore the Favre jersey for more than 1,500 consecutive days? That kid retired that jersey, because that jersey had run its course, albeit a legendary course. He retired that #4 because Green Bay had planned on retiring theirs September 8. By September 8, Favre may be wearing someone else’s #4, and if he isn’t, he’ll be standing in the spotlight of humiliation he created for himself on the night that he’s honored.

This isn’t a comeback story—this is a complete mess. And with Brett Favre, it was unavoidable.