WHILE DRAWING COMPARISONS TO MONTANA AND NAMATH, BRETT FAVRE PROVES HE'S ... : THE BIG CHEESE.

Byline: Dale Robertson Houston Chronicle

Brett Favre has become just another Joe at the Super Bowl.

But that's Joe as in Namath. And Joe as in Montana.

That's how big Favre is in New Orleans.

Says his coach, Mike Holmgren: ``As long as No. 4's still standing, we have a chance.''

``Brett Favre IS the Green Bay Packers,'' injured receiver Robert Brooks insists. ``He's the greatest player in the game. The rest of us are the supporting cast.''

Which, of course, is the same sort of stuff they used to say about Namath and Montana.

Save for the two Joes, one of whom defined Super Sunday excellence and the other swashbuckling chutzpah, no quarterback has cast a longer shadow over a Super Bowl circus than Favre, who came to town already recognized as football's premier player and the designated leader of the born-again Pack, this season's best team unless New England should prove otherwise.

In an added twist, he also came home. Favre goes for the kill Sunday an hour's drive from The Kill - Kiln, Miss., where the Favre family has always resided and a place that, of late, has been swarmed by reporters searching for Brett's ``roots.''

For that reason, Favre hasn't been to Kiln, noting: ``I was going to go over and eat with my family, but after talking to them I decided not to. It's crazy, kind of like Graceland. People are paying 20 bucks to see where I went to high school. That's a waste of money, really.''

Nonetheless, when the game is finally over and the hysteria has subsided, Brett, too, will return, to live with his wife and daughter in a new double-wide trailer parked on a 60-acre tract owned by his agent.

A double-wide trailer? ``We just wanted to get back to reality, so to speak,'' Favre explains.

``We could buy a million-dollar house, but why? We just wanted to get back to what we miss.''

Home for Namath and Montana was the coal hills of Western Pennsylvania, but nobody ever played a Super Bowl in that neighborhood. The only previous ``backyard'' Supe of any kind for a high-profile quarterback was XIX, when Montana led the 49ers over the Dolphins in Palo Alto.

Montana's legend began to grow that day, which was also the day the AFC ceased being an equal partner in America's Game. AFC teams haven't won since. And it was Namath who had given the American Football League - and the Super Bowl - early legitimacy by brazenly predicting a victory for his underdog Jets in Super Bowl III, then helping deliver it.

Ironically, probably the best thing Favre could do to turn the Super Bowl back into a credible sports event - it's certain to survive as a national holiday in any case - would be to fall flat on his facemask against New England. But since neither Joe ever lost a Super Bowl, presumably Brett won't, either.

After all, they're three peas from the same pod. Physically tough, with inordinately high pain thresholds. Unflappable. Extremely demanding of themselves and teammates. But off the field, regular Joes. Listen to the Packers talk about Favre.

Keith Jackson: ``Here's the kind of player Brett is. When a linebacker hits him in the mouth, he always gets up, pats him on the back and returns to the huddle. Nothing fazes him.''

Antonio Freeman: ``Brett doesn't just want us to be consistent. He insists that we dominate.''

Mark Chmura: ``He's the same guy he was five years ago. He still can't access his ATM card, doesn't know his PIN code. Always wearing flip-flops, ripped-up T-shirts.''

Favre shares Namath's arm strength and his penchant for speaking his mind. Like Montana, he leads quietly, shunning the spotlight whenever possible. He dearly wishes he could live normally, away from the clamor and glare of celebrity.

It's not to be, though. Only 27, his best years should be ahead of him, assuming his body doesn't wind up broken as Namath's did. The price of playing hurt can be extreme. In Favre's case, it has already led him to a six-week stint in rehab last spring, where he beat an addiction to prescription pain pills and got a grip on his thirst for too many beers after practice.

That hiatus only disturbed his fun-loving offseason routine, not the master's touch on his passes. Over the last 10 games of 1995 and through the first six of the current season, Favre didn't miss a beat. He barely missed any of his receivers, setting a new standard for consistent excellence.

He threw for 4,243 yards and 49 touchdowns in those 16 games and was intercepted but seven times, producing an otherworldly rating of 117.5.

He finished 1996 with 39 touchdown passes, six more than anyone else.

A worthy Joe, Brett. But no ordinary one.

CAPTION(S):

2 Photos

Photo: (1--color) Brett Favre hopes to be signaling plenty of touchdowns for the Packers on Sunday.

(2) ``It's crazy, kind of like Graceland. People are paying 20 bucks to see where I went to high school. That's a waste of money, really.''

Brett Favre, left on visitors to his hometown of Kiln, Miss.

Associated Press