Brett Favre once tricked America into believing you should play quarterback like you’re fighting a wild boar — but in denim. He starred in those iconic Wrangler commercials, throwing lasers while a bunch of dads in cargo shorts cheered like he reinvited football. And then he leveled up with that legendary “What Should I Do?” parody video — stumbling around asking life’s dumbest questions like an existential lumberjack.
Chaos wasn’t a flaw for Favre. It was a brand. A denim-soaked philosophy.
Fast-forward: The spirit of Wrangler is alive again… in Baker Mayfield. He doesn’t just inherit Favre’s vibes — he weaponizes them.
Baker didn’t “mature” — that’s marketing bullshit. He just moved to a team where chaos sells season tickets.
He literally gave us the thesis statement in one press conference:
“They called it cocky. They called it immature. Now it’s called moxie. Same shit, different day.”
That line should be sewn into the waistband of every pair of Wranglers:
Size: 34 x Moxie Care Instructions: Do not apologize.
Watching Baker scramble is like watching a video game glitch itself into a first down. Pocket collapses? Fine. He just reverse-drifts into the flat like he stole the football and is sprinting from mall security.
Nobody in NFL history has ever dropped back, lost all structure, panicked, then accidentally made the highlight reel more consistently.
He doesn’t scramble to avoid contact — he scrambles to find someone worth stiff-arming.
One moment he’s running for his life, next moment he’s pointing for a first down like he planned it.
The man plays quarterback like gravity is a suggestion and pain is a dare.
Baker’s passing philosophy is beautifully stupid:
First read: Let it fly
Second read: Don’t need it
Third read: Me vs. Science
He doesn’t “attack coverage.” He provokes it. Triple-covered receiver? Cool. That’s just three future witnesses to the miracle.
Football nerds clutch their pearls. Fans? We’re screaming “DO IT AGAIN!” like maniacs.
That’s Wrangler football.
And the trash talk? Baker is a bilingual specialist in disrespect.
If defenders could get flagged for hurt feelings, half the league would be broke.
He chirps when he wins. He chirps when he loses. He talks shit to the guy holding the yard marker. He once screamed at the turf because it tackled him wrong.
Trash talk isn’t part of his game — it’s the fuel.
If you mic’d him up fully uncensored, your TV would explode.
This brings us to the romance of it all: Wrangler isn’t just a clothing brand. Wrangler is a personality type.
Wrangler jeans are built for:
Short kings with confidence disorders
Men who slide only by accident
People who think “play it safe” is a hate crime
Quarterbacks who run like a raccoon escaped the dumpster
Wrangler needs a new face — someone unpolished, fearless, slightly dangerous…
And Wrangler sees Baker and whispers: “My denim soul… has returned.”
Because yes… Brett Favre once asked the universe:
“What should I do?”
And Baker has been answering ever since: “Lower my shoulder and pray these jeans stretch.”
This is the prophecy. Favre walked. So Baker could scramble sideways until destiny got tired of chasing.
Let’s make it official:
Baker Mayfield isn’t a role model. He’s a jeans model.
Wrangler — don’t make us say it again.
Sign the man. Hand him the denim. Let chaos sell jeans.
Or admit… your jeans are scared of greatness.
