I found my role model watching Monday Night Football last week. His name is Brett Favre, he's a quarterback for the Green Bay Packers, and he is a modern day mythological being. Don't believe me? What can Hercules possibly have on a guy like this? Like Zeus' illegitimate son, Favre is an inhumanly powerful man-God. And although his mother never dunked him in a magical river, he too is invincible, capable of sustaining injuries all over his body while showing up for battle every week without fail.

But mostly, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders every day, which is exactly what it is to lead a team that is nothing less than a religion to an entire city. It's even harder while being dealt back-to-back tragedies with the death of his father and the development of breast cancer in his wife.

The latest adversity of his wife's health problems came in the early part of this season when the Packers were struggling with a 1-4 record. But Favre reacted to these hardships the only way he knows how: by playing football. Favre led the Packers to a six-game winning streak and a 7-4 record before getting thumped by the Philadelphia Eagles this weekend. Simply put, Favre is the pure light that shines above the crap-filled sewer of 2004 professional sports.

This is a terrible time to be a sports fan. Parity in baseball is non-existent, the NHL is on layaway and drug-use and violence have plagued professional sports across the board. At least boxing fans have something to be happy about. Nowadays a boxing match seems to be breaking out everywhere: basketball games, NFL games, college football games and more.

But through it all, Favre remains consistent, aggressive and virtually unscathed. The Packers understand that with No. 4 they have a chance to win every single week. That's just how good a player and leader he is. He is the most respected and loved player in the league hands down.

But Farve is not a character. He doesn't engage in penalty worthy touchdown celebrations because that's just not his style. Nowhere does the outdated clich of the "blue-collar guy" fit better than for him. He does his job every single day, battles every single week, and hasn't missed a start in more than 200 consecutive weeks, easily an NFL record for quarterbacks.

You just have to love a guy who, after suffering a concussion in the first half of a week four game against the New York Giants, ignores the doctor's orders and puts himself back in the game for just one play, a 29-yard touchdown pass.

"I don't remember," Favre told reporters after the game with glazed eyes.

Critics point to Favre's interceptions as his Achilles' heal. He has an unimpressive 368-222 touchdown to interception ratio. Really, though, he is just too good to spend his time worrying about that kind of stuff. He has said repeatedly that he doesn't care about statistics. So many quarterbacks are so concerned with not letting defenses make plays on the ball that they don't make plays themselves.

Favre doesn't worry. He knows the defense can and will make a play on him, but he also knows he can get them too. He knows what everyone else on the field knows: he is a winner. When Favre's winning, which is most of the time, the interceptions are as meaningless to the scoreboard as they are to him. Winning or losing, his confidence is just astounding.

So Brett Favre is my role model, good luck finding your own. My advice would be to begin looking outside the realm of professional sports, because it would be a shame to wake up tomorrow and find out that your role model cheated with steroids, beat up some fans, or did some stuff with a young girl that, if it wasn't rape, was at the very least extremely sketchy.

My role model is great, because besides being a mythological being, he possesses one quality that trumps all else: integrity. He is strong, unwavering and honest. In fact, I'll just go ahead and say it. Brett Favre is a super-hero. Yes, a super-hero, because if having integrity in 2004 doesn't make you a super-hero, I don't know what does.