An NFL player's legacy can be told many ways.    

Stats.   

Dog-eared newspaper accounts of gridiron feats and foibles.    

Dramatic NFL Films pieces, put to music with lots of super slow-mo. 

I like mine told by those who played with the man.
 
Virtually every Packers fan worth his Brett Favre jersey can tell you the quarterback's story, all the way from Kiln to the 2008 playoff loss to the Giants.

They'll prattle off the memorable accomplishments, the heartbreaking defeats, the great passes, the questionable interceptions.    They'll tell you about Irv and Bonita and the brother and the wife and the cancer and the kids who told their dad to keep playing during a recent trip to the ice cream store.

That's nice, but what I remember most about Favre is the fact that, to a person, his teammates and competitors have nothing but good things to say about him.    

In the course of such a long career, you'd think there'd be SOMEONE out there with an axe to grind, a story that puts Favre in something less than a positive light. 

You'd think that there has to be a contrarians out there you'd be more than happy to tell of a slight, either real or perceived, that Favre was guilty of.     
 
There is nothing.
 
The league-wide love affair with Favre is real, true, and ongoing.

He is the icon who walks among them, the guy who everyone seems to root for.   

Even the Chicago Bears admire the guy, and you'd be hard pressed to find a Windy City fan who won't give at least grudging respect to the man who beat them so often.
 
It's great to have admirers, and Packers Nation is full of those who put Favre on a pedestal.   

Ask anyone, though, and they will tell you that the greatest praise one can receive is that which comes from one's peers, be you a gravedigger, a lawyer, an entertainer or a parent.    

Those who play--or played--with Favre all seem to sing from the same hymnbook.

It's a rarity in 21st century professional sports.
 
It's one more thing that makes Brett Favre unique.