Brett Favre was a scruffy country kid the first time I saw him, at a bowl game in Birmingham, Ala. He came into a news conference wearing a gold chain with the number “4” around his neck and a face that hadn’t touched a razor in days.

Southern Miss was playing N.C. State in the All-America Bowl that year, 1990, and much of the talk was about the feisty USM quarterback who’d survived a near-fatal car wreck and still possessed that slingshot of an arm.

Favre had swagger and confidence, but I wasn’t overly impressed.

Southern Miss also had another star, running back Tony Smith, who would be a high pick in the NFL Draft.

Favre wasn’t expected to go in the first round. He wasn’t even that big when you stood next to him.

Then the game started.

A State defensive tackle roared through the line and crashed toward Favre .

Favre stepped back and, throwing of his back foot, ripped the ball 40 yards downfield before you could say “One Mississippi …”

It was one of those moments where your head jerks back and you think, “Did that really happen?”

By game’s end, State had a 31-27 victory, but Favre had thrown for 341 yards and three touchdowns.

My doubts had vanished.

Favre went on to be the No. 2 pick of the Atlanta Falcons, and was traded a year later to Green Bay. He never lost the scruffy, country boy look he had as a player at Southern Miss, and he certainly never lost the ability to make a magic throw.

I saw him beat the Carolina Panthers in the NFC Championship Game, saw him win a Super Bowl, and saw him win a showdown at Ericsson Stadium.

I remember that Charlotte game well. Favre was rolling left, rolling … rolling … rolling and looking as if he had no idea where a receiver was.

Then he stopped, paused, and looked right.

A Green Bay receiver streaked down the far sideline, an impossible distance away. But Favre threw a pass with such fierce velocity that it barely seemed to rise after leaving his arm. It shot over the heads of the Carolina defense and roared toward the receiver in a perfect vector.

Only Favre could make that throw, and you knew it was a touchdown the second it left his hand.

And this time, I wasn’t surprised.