Favre vs. Schwarzenegger debate comes to self-ending conclusion

If Brett Favre, the quarterback the vast majority of this country thinks is the greatest of all time except for the people in Wisconsin, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were to get in a fight, who would win?
I’ll admit, it’s a stupid question that probably shouldn’t take up valuable space in a newspaper with limited space that could be used for better things, but I ask because it’s become a 13-year-long argument I’ve had with former co-workers at another newspaper, and I want it settled.
It began innocently enough in 1997, when the Green Bay Packers, under Favre’s leadership, were in the midst of a failed campaign to defend the Super Bowl title they had won earlier in the year. One of those co-workers, Bonnie, kept talking about Favre as though he was mankind’s salvation for all of its problems. This, of course, was before Bono from U2 unofficially took on that role.
I politely listened to her rhetoric, nodding approval to the things she said mainly because, as the new guy there, I didn’t want to get on her bad side, nor the bad side of our boss, Mary, who wholeheartedly agreed with everything she said. In fact, Mary often added points Bonnie may have missed to make the argument about Favre’s greatness stronger.
One day, in a bad mood about something I can’t recall, I finally spoke up when I couldn’t take their spiel anymore. “Brett Favre is not a god,” I said. “Practically anybody could beat him in a fight.”
“Name one?” they asked.
My brain immediately conjured up someone with some of the biggest muscles of all time: Arnold Schwarzenegger. At the time, he was already past his prime, and his films hadn’t been doing well at the box office. People suspected he had political aspirations, but he was still more than six years away from becoming governor of California. Thinking back, I should have chosen a better opponent for Favre, one they couldn’t have questioned, but it was still a solid choice any right-minded person wouldn’t question.
But they weren’t right-minded when it came to Favre, and they attacked my response. “He can barely speak English,” Bonnie said.
“He’s foreign and English isn’t his native tongue. How many languages can you speak?” I retorted.
“He doesn’t have any brains,” Mary argued.
“Have you seen ‘Pumping Iron,’ the documentary in which he uses his sharp wit to torment Lou Ferigno, the Incredible Hulk, into losing the Mr. Universe contest? The guy is one of the sharpest minds in Hollywood,” I answered.
“He’s slow,” Bonnie said.
“Favre’s not much faster,” I said, not realizing 13 years later if he would have had any speed he could have ran a few yards, avoided an interception, and most likely returned to the Super Bowl for the third time.
“Favre is street smart,” said Bonnie.
I’m not sure what made her believe he was street smart, as he grew up in rural Mississippi, far away from any streets where he may have needed any such smarts. Most likely, he had a hunting rifle with him at all times, so the ability to defend himself did not rest with physical strength, but rather with the ability to fire a rifle accurately at a target. And judging by the lack of stories out there about Favre ever doing this, I’m sure he never even got in situations he needed to defend himself.
I decided I needed to end the argument.
“He was ‘Conan the Barbarian.’ He knocked out a camel with one punch.”
The argument should have ended with that statement, but Bonnie had to point out “Conan” was just a film.
“Yes, but people seeing it believed it could be real because Arnold had the muscles and looked like a person who could knock out a camel with one punch.”
Again, argument ended.
But, no. They kept insisting Favre’s “street smarts” and “speed” would take down Schwarzenegger’s muscles quickly.
It was clear neither of us was going to back down on our positions.
Relying on others hasn’t helped us settle the argument. Although the majority of people I’ve talked to about this argument agree with me, a few have taken their side.
I’m confident this argument could have ended several times, had they used a few opportunities in which they’ve had conversations with Favre himself to poise the question to him. I’m sure he would have agreed with me.
To this day, when I see my former co-workers, the argument continues to come up. Although they now feel betrayed and hurt by Favre, they still refuse to acknowledge I am the winner in the argument, just like I’ll refuse to ever concede victory to them.
I was supposed to go to the Wisconsin Newspaper Association Annual Convention last week with Mary, but she backed out at the last minute. I’m pretty sure she knew I may have been able to get her to accept my win in the debate. I’m not letting her off that easy, though. This column is my final say in the matter, as I use it to declare victory.