Flawed and fantastic, Aaron Rodgers' ride into Minnesota could be his last

Someday, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, one of the greatest athletes of all time will settle into a comfortable chair in his mansion and face a television crew.

By his side will be a glass of amber liquid.

The cameras will roll, and "The Last Chance" will begin, and Aaron Rodgers will end every other sentence with the now-famous phrase, "And I took that personally.''

Well, no, Rodgers is not Michael Jordan, and he might never star in a self-directed documentary about winning a slew of championships and avenging daily grievances, but Rodgers remains the most important and fascinatingly annoying figure in the most important rivalry in Minnesota.

On Sunday, Rodgers might play for the last time with the Packers in U.S. Bank Stadium. We might never see his kind pass this way again.

He returns to Minnesota with his image as an intelligent human diminished and his skills at least momentarily rusting. He is also the leader of one of the NFL's best teams, and he remains the best quarterback I have ever seen in person.

This is a wholly subjective view. If you had to justify naming someone the best quarterback who ever lived, you would be forced by facts to choose Tom Brady. If you had to choose the greatest running quarterback, it would be Michael Vick or Lamar Jackson.

The greatest regular-season passer might be Peyton Manning; the greatest competitor might be John Elway; the most efficient thrower might be Drew Brees; the best postseason performer might be Joe Montana.

Or you could enroll in the old school and argue that Otto Graham and Johnny Unitas thrived against defenses allowed to brutalize quarterbacks and mug receivers — a legitimate perspective that makes any statistical analysis irrelevant.

I'm old enough to have seen Unitas at the end of his career in Baltimore's Memorial Stadium, and to have covered Troy Aikman as a rookie, and Montana in his prime.

I believe that Rodgers is more mobile than other passers who rivaled his accuracy, and more accurate than anyone more mobile.

The eye test tells me that Rodgers is the best, even if his and the Packers' failures in recent NFC Championship Games threaten to forever diminish his standing in best-of conversations.

He's not bad statistically, either.

Only two players have a better career passer rating: Patrick Mahomes and DeShaun Watson. Mahomes is going through his first professional slump, and Watson is inactive during his prime because of accusations of sexual misconduct. Neither is guaranteed to remain ahead of Rodgers.

Rodgers also owns two of the four best single-season QBR marks in history.

There is no sure way to rank quarterbacks because there is no perfect stat for measuring their performance or factoring in the context of their performance. As Minnesotans know from watching Kirk Cousins, completing passes is not the same thing as elevating your team.

For better and worse, we've rarely seen a more dramatic quarterback than Rodgers, other than, perhaps, his predecessor.

There must be something in the Spotted Cow. Brett Favre was a great quarterback who embarrassed himself first by, allegedly, sending unwanted photos to a sideline reporter and now bungling a fraud case in Mississippi. Rodgers is a great quarterback who lied about being vaccinated, then mounted a silly and defiant crusade against his critics ... until advertisers started fleeing. Then he became suddenly contrite.

On the field, the two have transformed the Packers franchise from an interactive museum dedicated to the memory of Vince Lombardi into one of the most successful and popular businesses in all of sports.

Believe it or not, B.F. (Before Favre) the Packers played many of their games at Milwaukee County Stadium, and they did not always sell out. Their last game at County Stadium before Favre became a starter was on Nov. 24, 1991. They drew 42,132, about 13,000 below capacity.

Rodgers replaced Favre and mimicked Favre's success, rising through statistical rankings, winning one Super Bowl and elevating any number of otherwise nondescript teams.

Favre had the arrogance to orchestrate his way to the Packers' rival in Minnesota. Rodgers had the arrogance to, in his most recent appearance in Chicago, scream to Bears fans "I own you!''

Thanks to their earned arrogance, the Packers can now sell team "shares'' for $300, even though the purchaser receives nothing of value.

Unless he wins a Super Bowl this season, Rodgers likely will be traded next spring.

Packers management will be relieved of a major headache, and of the pressure of Super Bowl expectations that accompany employing perhaps the greatest quarterback ever.