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Yahoo
20-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
The Fall of Favre: the making – and unmaking – of a flawed NFL gunslinger
Brett Favre was the man with the golden arm – a three-time NFL MVP who revived the Green Bay Packers while setting the league record for consecutive starts and all-time yardage, raising the standard for toughness and productivity at quarterback. It's his thumbs that let him down in the end. He could play through the thumb injuries – but allegedly not the urge to send lewd text messages to a staff member at the New York Jets, or the digital impulses that would tie him to allegations over a $94m welfare scandal in his home state of Mississippi. 'Are people in these positions above the law?' Rebecca Gitlitz wonders. 'Have they been told so many times that whatever they do they can get away with it? Stuff like that, where history repeats itself, I wanted to see how that happens.' Advertisement Gitlitz is the director of The Fall of Favre, the latest in Netflix's series of sports documentaries, Untold. The episode retraces the good-time gunslinger's arc from humble Mississippi beginnings to his NFL peak to the texting scandal that tarnished his reputation. Suffice to say: this is not one of those NFL Films-grade hagiographies that covers Favre in glory, or paints him as a God-fearing daddy's boy with the Dixie drawl who was firmly at his wife's side for her much-publicized cancer fight. Nor does it linger on his retirement fickleness or his debatable influence on former understudy Aaron Rodgers, the NFL's current drama king gunslinger. Absent are the typically effusive witnesses to the Favre mythos such as Mike Holmgren, the coach who won a Super Bowl with Favre in Green Bay. Instead, there's Ron Wolf, the Packers GM who landed Favre in a landmark trade with Atlanta in 1992. (The Falcons buried Favre on the depth chart after drafting him in the second round in 1991.) Tellingly, Wolf characterizes Favre as his greatest scouting find, but is so solemn while reflecting on that career achievement that you can't help wondering if some part of him regrets his role in creating what Favre would become. Peter King, the retired Sports Illustrated football writer who was achingly close to Favre in his heyday, also appears in the film and seems genuinely disappointed by the quarterback's legacy. The Green Bay Area journalists who saw the more unsavory sides of Favre on a regular basis, however, are more cynical. 'There's no [Packers] team owner, no one to answer to,' Gitlitz says of Favre's entitlement in Green Bay. 'There's small town media. What the Packers experience did for him as a person is a seminal piece of this storytelling.' A striking appearance in the documentary is made by another NFL star quarterback, Michael Vick. Both men are flawed – Vick, who is Black, went to prison for his part in a dogfighting ring – but the difference in the way America reacted to their respective rise and falls says a lot about who is forgiven in the United States. Advertisement But the star interview is Jenn Sterger, the Jets presenter who claims the team let her go after Favre – a splashy free-agent acquisition approaching the end of his career – allegedly sent her a flurry of unsolicited text messages, including a few that purported to show his penis. (Favre was found not to be in violation of the NFL's personal conduct policy, but fined $50,000 anyway for not cooperating with the league's investigation.) Shockingly, Sterger reveals in the doc that she has never met Favre. 'If that single statement was alarming to me, I felt like there's got to be an awful lot here,' Gitlitz says. 'So we went digging, and it was plentiful.' Related: Brett Favre: how a scandal in Mississippi tarnished an NFL hero The director is at pains to cast Sterger as collateral damage in the Favre legend. Though she first rose to fame for wearing skimpy clothes to college games, Sterger, who bears a striking resemblance to Favre's wife, describes herself as an awkward theater nerd who had aspired to a career as a sideline reporter. (Hauntingly, her role model was Erin Andrews, the veteran sportscaster who was covertly videotaped in her hotel room.) Sterger says her connection to Favre likely would have never come to light if she hadn't made offhandedly mentioned the text allegations to former Deadspin editor AJ Daulerio years later. Daulerio, a dubious figure in his own right, swiftly betrayed her confidence for what turned out to be the scoop of the year. Sterger believes someone in the Jets front office passed Favre her number, and is convinced that's a crime. But because this all went down in the early-2010s, well before #MeToo, Sterger was pilloried in the tabloids and traditional media as a jezebel who sought to bring down the NFL's golden boy. She was effectively blackballed from the profession. In the doc, she says Favre 'destroyed my life'. Advertisement Two Jets message therapists suing Favre for sexual harassment after the allegations of inappropriate messages to Sterger emerged didn't much move the public. Tim Andre, the Jets intern supervisor inexplicably tapped to serve as Sterger's bodyguard, spends much of the doc lamenting his inability to protect her. 'I just felt like Jen deserved for her story to be told in an honest way,' Gitlitz says. 'That was our goal for the film, to tell the honest story and let people decide for themselves how they want to feel about any one thing.' Sterger might never have reemerged to address her chapter with Favre if it hadn't been for a 2022 Mississippi welfare audit that alleged the quarterback had diverted $8m in funds to himself or to causes he championed – most notably the construction of a volleyball facility at the University of Southern Mississippi, where his daughter was playing at the time. (Favre also played college football there.) In one text message that was published by Mississippi Today, he asked former governor Phil Bryant 'if you were to pay me is there anyway [sic] the media can find out where it came from and how much?' It's worth highlighting that Mississippi is the poorest state in the US. Although the welfare scandal wound up costing Favre lucrative endorsements, broadcast work and general credibility, he has never been charged with any wrongdoing over the allegations. What's more, he has remained denied any wrongdoing throughout, suing anyone who would even suggest he had broken the law – not least the auditor who conducted the welfare investigation for the state of Mississippi. (Meanwhile, Bryant pressured Mississippi Today to reveal its sources in a defamation lawsuit that was ultimately dismissed.) For Sterger though, the welfare scandal is a vindicating moment years in the making. 'She said, 'I told you all, and nobody listened to me,'' Gitlitz says. 'She spent a lot of time talking to me about the people of Mississippi that had really suffered at the hands of the scandal. She felt like there were an awful lot of people who weren't getting their stories told, and she felt solidarity with that.' Advertisement Favre declined an invitation to participate in the documentary and even wrote back himself to say no – a development that is both surprising and not given his feeble resistance to keyboards. 'He said, 'Why are you making this? If I wanted to make a documentary myself, I could have,'' Gitlitz says. But even Favre would have to concede her documentary isn't an all-out character assassination. Notably, it skips the chapters on the quarterback's substance addictions and close associations with Mark Chmura, Darren Sharper and other controversial characters. But those omissions don't prevent the film from making the essential point: the Favre name still means something, whatever his troubles off the field. Gitlitz's film closes with a scene from Favre's appearance at a congressional committee hearing on welfare reform – where he unexpectedly revealed that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease, dramatically shifting the focus from the fraud in Mississippi. One of the lawmakers on the dais nods at Favre's gridiron greatness, and autograph seekers approach him afterward. It's a perfect illustration of Favre's inherent complexity, and why he endures as a classic protagonist. 'It's really fascinating how people mythologize their sports heroes,' Gitlitz says. 'People tie these great memories to their sports heroes, and it's so hard to disentangle the two.'
Yahoo
17-05-2025
- Sport
- Yahoo
'You see ghosts of your mates there'
Goodison is not just players, grass, bricks and mortar. It is also about people. The matchday ritual. Walking up streets of tightly spaced Victorian terracing; meeting friends and family by Dixie's statue; chips at the Goodison Supper Bar; a pint in the Winslow Pub in the looming shadow of the triple-decker Main Stand; perusing the memorabilia, old programmes and vintage shirts upstairs in the Church of St Luke the Evangelist, home of the Heritage Society, which is nestled between the Gwladys Street and Main Stand. For supporter Frank Keegan, the day Everton's men's team leave Goodison will be tinged with sadness, but it is something he feels they have to do. "It's been my life going there," he said. "I look across from my seat to the Lower Bullens and the Upper Bullens Stand and you see ghosts of your mates that used to go to matches. "But another part of me thinks that the Goodison Park I remember growing up, as a ground, went a long time ago. We've got to move with the times. "But it's not about me, it's about individual supporters. You've got your memories of the ground, but the ground is just a place that held them. And you can think back and remember them fondly." This Sunday we'd love it if you would send us your images and stories from Goodison via this form
Yahoo
14-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Relying on teamwork, Naval Academy plebes conquer a 75-year tradition
May 14 (UPI) -- A lard-covered obelisk is more than a slippery slope for U.S. Naval Academy plebes, who view it as a rite of passage that changes them into midshipmen. Dozens of freshmen who are called "plebes" were tasked with climbing the 21-foot-tall Herndon Monument on Wednesday, with the mission being to replace a cap placed on top to mark the end of their first year at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Md. They accomplished the feat in 2 hours, 27 minutes and 31 seconds by using the kind of teamwork that is required to effectively operate vessels on the high seas like the U.S. Navy has done for almost 250 years, and as it today carries out missions on land and in the air, as well. The annual climb is a 75-year tradition that started in 1950 and scales the monument to Commander William Lewis Herndon, who went down with his ship when a hurricane sank it in 1857. The climb requires Naval Academy plebes to scale the obelisk after it has been covered with 200 pounds of lard, remove a "Dixie cup" placed on top and replace it with the hat of an upperclassman. The Dixie cup is not a reference to the paper cup that often is used at water dispensers. Instead, it is a reference to the "low-rolled brim, high-domed item constructed of canvas" cap that was created in 1886 and has represented the U.S. Navy throughout the 20th century and beyond. The Dixie cup cap is featured in the iconic photo of a sailor kissing a nurse in New York City's Times Square on Victory over Japan Day in 1945. It also was featured in many classic films and was worn by the S.S. Minnow's first mate Gilligan on television's "Gilligan's Island." Members of the Naval Academy's class of 2028 successfully undertook the task of replacing the Dixie Cup with the upperclassman's hat. The 2028 class has about 1,187 plebes, who now are referred to as "midshipmen" upon their completion of the annual rite of passage.
USA Today
03-05-2025
- Entertainment
- USA Today
Why My Old Kentucky Home is so controversial
Why My Old Kentucky Home is so controversial You'll hear My Old Kentucky Home sung at Churchill Downs as you usually do before the Kentucky Derby, but did you know that the Kentucky state song is actually controversial? You will now. The Louisville Courier-Journal broke down the Stephen Foster-penned song with the history of it, and a call for a new state song: "The song was sung frequently in minstrel shows by white men wearing blackface and has been sung at every Kentucky Derby since 1930. Now it is time to turn a collective corner and find a new state song to point us in a new direction." The Smithsonian magazine has more about Foster and the parts of the song that were actually anti-slavery, although racist language was used in the lyrics originally before it was changed: "Few of those singing along, however, may realize that the original lyrics were not a 'Dixie'-esque paean but actually a condemnation of Kentucky's enslavers who sold husbands away from their wives and mothers away from their children. As Foster wrote it, 'My Old Kentucky Home' is actually the lament of an enslaved person who has been forcibly separated from his family and his painful longing to return to the cabin with his wife and children. ... The song emphasizes the humanity and close family ties of the enslaved population at a time when African Americans were routinely dehumanized and caricatured. And then there's this from Louisville Public Media, a quote from historian Emily Bingham: 'It was written by a white man about a Black person being sold down river from Kentucky to the deep south to be sung by white men pretending to be black men on stages for white audiences,' Bingham said. Because of that complicated history, there are questions every year if the tune should be sung or if it should even be Kentucky's state song. Seems like it's time to pick a new one.
Daily Mirror
26-04-2025
- Daily Mirror
'I was wrongly jailed for rapes carried out by evil killer – now I'm begging him to confess'
Romano van der Dussen spent 12 years in jail for rapes he did not commit in Spain before Sally Anne Bowman killer Mark Dixie's DNA was identified on one of the victims A skipper wrongly jailed for rapes committed by Sally Anne Bowman's killer today begged him to admit his crimes - so he can sue for one million euros. Dutch national Romano van der Dussen, 52, revealed he had written to jailed monster Mark Dixie THREE times asking for him to confess to three attacks in 2003. The dad-of-one was freed 12 years into a 15-year sentence after Dixie's DNA was linked to one of the brutal assaults in Fuengirola, Spain. But he said Dixie - jailed for the 2005 murder and rape of Sally Anne, 18, in Croydon - has refused to respond to his pleas for a meeting. It means he is unable to clear his name for the remaining two attacks and claim compensation from the Spanish authorities for the 12 years he wrongly spent in prison. In a desperate plea, Romano said: "I have written to him in HMP Frankland on a number of occasions and he has never responded. He should come forward and admit what he did. He needs to think of his karma. If he admits then he can cleanse his soul and something good may happen." It comes just days after Sally Anne's mum, Linda, blasted police in Australia after he was free to slip through the net and return to the UK undetected. British police had no way of knowing he was a repeat offender with a history of violent assaults spanning the globe. Romano was sentenced to 15 years in Spain for three assaults on women. He was jailed even though his DNA did not match a sample found on one of the victims Detectives later discovered the DNA belonged to Dixie. Romano spent more than a decade in a Spanish jail before his conviction was finally quashed. But in the eyes of Spanish law, he remains guilty for two of the offences, even though his original trial said all three were committed by the same offender. It means he cannot launch a bid for compensation from the Spanish authorities. He currently receives 2,000 Euros each month from the Spanish Government for his wrongful incarceration for the one rape charge But if Dixie - who says he cannot remember because he was drunk - finally confessed then Romano says he can sue for one million euros. Romano said: "I wrote to him most recently just before Christmas [2024], but I heard nothing. I want to get on with my life. I want the compensation so I can start again. He will never be freed, he's never coming out, so I want him to admit to what he did. He has to take the first step." Romano was just 30 in 2003 and working at an ice cream parlour on Spain's Costa del Sol when his nightmare began. On the morning of September 2, 2003, as he returned to his apartment after visiting the beach, he was stopped by two police officers. They asked his name and told him that he was under arrest. He was held for two days and then transferred to prison to await trial. Romano was accused of the rape of three women during the night of August 2003, a month earlier. The women had been brutally beaten; one of them so badly that she could remember nothing about what had happened to her and was in a state of shock. The attacks had taken place soon after the murder of two young women in nearby Coín and Mijas, and the police were under pressure to put somebody behind bars. In an exclusive interview with the Mirror, Romano spoke of the moment he was told he would be charged for the rapes. And he told of the 12 years of hell he endured in prison, during which time he suffered brutal beatings for being a rapist. He said the miscarriage of justice ruined his life and stopped him seeing his daughter grow up. Speaking exactly 10 years since his conviction was overturned Romano said: "It was so difficult. The paedophiles and the rapists are treated the worst in prison. "There are three people in a cell and 250 blokes with just four guards. But they have their own laws and the toughest inmates demand to see your papers to know what you were convicted of. I was attacked once and I had to spend three weeks in hospital, I was passing blood. They hurt me so badly. I was a mess. You never get over it. I think about it every day. How messed up it was." Spanish police failed to catch Dixie, now 54, and he was free to stab and rape 18-year-old model Sally Anne in Croydon in 2005. He was handed a life sentence of at least 34 years in 2008. Last Week the Mirror revealed he had slipped through the net despite carrying out a string of attacks while he lived in West Australia between 1993 and 1999. And in 2015 Dixie finally admitted one rape in Spain for which Romano had been jailed. Dixie is suspected of two other rapes the same night for which Romano was convicted but the killer says he cannot remember carrying them out. In 2017 he was given two more life sentences after confessing to horrific sex attacks on two other women, one when he was just 16. But Romano, who now works as a commercial boat skipper around the Balearic Islands, said that Spanish police had blood on their hands for failing to catch him in 2003. He said: "The Spanish police did not do enough to catch Dixie. In 2005 the English police told them about Dixie but they ignored it. I was arrested in 2003 and in May 2004 the forensics and DNA showed I didn't do it. "That's when I should have been released but they didn't care. They only looked at the national database, not the international database. They had no images of me there, nothing, but they still charged me. It was the worst day of my life. I thought I'd be able to call my lawyer and say, 'Look, this is all crap'. But that didn't happen. I said I would cooperate. I hadn't done anything wrong." Romano - who was approached about taking part in a Netflix documentary last year - added: "It was clear by May 2004 that I wasn't responsible. From that moment the police should have been hunting the real person who had done it. But they didn't. They had more than a year to find him but they didn't and then he was free to kill Sally Anne and rape her. She died because of their incompetence. "The Spanish police didn't do their jobs and that's why Sally Anne is dead, she would be alive today."
