Adrian Peterson was staggered by hubris again while Brett Favre is knee-deep in more dishonorable quicksand.
It has been a nauseous week of negative publicity for the former NFL icons, Vikings superstars and celebrity hangers-on. Their arrogance and boundless senses of entitlement are tarnishing football legacies that cover an ongoing contempt for humanity and intelligence.
Favre the quarterbacking rebel already is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame but busy feathering a nest in Mississippi’s public service hall of shame, while Peterson – the battering-ram ball carrier – is running to Canton as a washed-up mercenary.
You might have read about Favre’s aw-shucks entanglement in the largest welfare scam in Mississippi history. Nonprofits misspent $77 million in federal funds earmarked to help the state’s poorest residents, who are among the poorest people in the United States.
According to an investigative report by Mississippi Today, $1.1 million of welfare money was allegedly funneled through Favre’s business interests to help build one of his pet projects – a new $5 million volleyball arena at his alma mater, the University of Southern Mississippi, where his daughter happened to be a volleyball player.
The state is suing Favre, alleging one of its favorite sons conspired with others, including former Gov. Phil Bryant, to defraud taxpayers. Court documents reveal text messages by Bryant, who left office in 2020, that he was “on board” with diverting welfare funds to the arena project.
Documents chronicle damning dialogue between Favre and nonprofit executive Nancy New about cash New diverted from the state Human Services Department to Favre for speaking engagements and promotional fees the former quarterback was supposed to donate to construction.
Favre not only failed to fulfill his appearance obligations, according to the lawsuit, but he wanted to cover his tracks, too.
“If you were to pay me, is there anyway the media can find out where it came from and how much?” Favre texted New on Aug. 3, 2017.
“No, we never have had that information publicized,” New responded. “I understand you being uneasy about that though. Let’s see what happens with the conversation with some of the folks at Southern. Maybe it will click with them. Hopefully.”
Favre responded: “Ok thanks.”
One day later, New texted Favre again: “Wow, just got off the phone with Phil Bryant! He is on board with us! We will get this done!”
Favre replied: “Awesome I needed to hear that for sure.”
Court records show New’s nonprofit paid Favre Enterprises $500,000 in December 2017 and $600,000 in June 2018.
Two days after Christmas 2017, Favre texted New: “Nancy Santa came today and dropped some money off (two smiling emojis) thank you my goodness thank you.”
“Yes he did,” New responded. “He felt you had been pretty good this year!”
Anyone else need an acid bath?
Favre denied in an interview with Mississippi Today and through his attorney that he had talked to Bryant about the arena or that he knew New’s payments came from the public till.
Willful ignorance and avoiding accountability like a pass rusher are Favre hallmarks dating back to his glory days in Green Bay, where he won one of two Super Bowl appearances and was a three-time NFL most valuable player.
He soaked the annual will-he-or-won’t-he drama surrounding his retirement status in hillbilly elegies about being content to swill beer and ride his mower in hometown Hattiesburg. All while shaking down the Packers, Jets and Vikings for every nostalgic dime those desperate franchises were willing to pay for “The Gunslinger.”
Favre’s self-righteous ego and wealthy privilege have allowed him for years to dismiss chronic womanizing and frat-boy antics with a wink and a drawl.
He avoided responsibility for texting lewd photos to unsuspecting Jets employee, Jenn Sterger, who has been trying to fumigate Favre from her good name for 12 years.
“Oh, NOWWWWW he gets in trouble for inappropriate texts,” Sterger tweeted Tuesday in a surgical strike for the ages.
Favre could buy his way out of his latest civil trouble. He has not been charged criminally, although New and her son pleaded guilty to more than a dozen felonies and are awaiting sentencing in Mississippi.
It ain’t over until the last defendant sings.
Meanwhile, Peterson is battling his own demons.
He is still pandering for another midseason call from a frantic franchise that loses its starting running back. Tennessee and Seattle kept the 37-year-old employed just long enough in 2021 for Peterson to inch up to fifth all-time rushing with 14,918 yards.
But 15 NFL seasons have taken their toll on this punishing running back, who has commanded scant interest as a free agent while drifting among six teams since the Vikings jettisoned him in 2017.
Peterson has earned more than $103 million as a player, according to Spotrac. But he cannot out-run Father Time, his creditors, or his baby mamas.
It can be tough to pay off loans when you throw yourself a 30th birthday party by flying in 320 relatives and friends first-class, including DJ Jamie Foxx. Snake charmers, belly dancers and a camel on which to ride atop a throne with a python around your neck also aren’t cheap.
Nor were the army of lawyers Peterson hired to try to scrub his name and mitigate criminal liability in 2014 when he whipped his 4-year-old son bloody with a switch, put him on an airplane to his mother and wondered what all the fuss was about.
Peterson’s blind spot is his albatross. Don’t let his cynical love-of-the-game and pursuit-of-greatness cliches distract you from his reasons for still playing, each 3-carry, 12-yard performance at a time.
He needs every paycheck he can get.
Why else would Peterson agree to debase himself by climbing into a boxing ring Saturday in Los Angeles to fight Le’Veon Bell, another banished NFL running back fully in love with himself?
Videos from the sparsely attended pay-per-view event are like a bad B-movie, only neither Peterson nor Bell seemed in on the joke.
The boxing novices danced around for four sleepy rounds before Bell caught Peterson square with a right jab and planted him on the canvas. The referee stopped the fight as Peterson staggered around and Bell celebrated.
No word on how much Peterson earned for getting knocked out.
Not enough to whitewash his motives. Or his tone-deaf response to the Vikings suspending him for whipping his son and venting of conspiracy theories that everyone in authority was out to get him.
Beware who you worship. Professional athletes can accomplish what only a gifted few of us can do while providing one of the last forms of unscripted entertainment in a cruel and rigged world.
But they are all flawed human beings like the rest of us, conflicted and confounding as the day is long.
Some simply more self-aware than others.
Related: Brian Murphy: Vikings’ Kevin O’Connell passes the first impression test
