If you walk into a bar in De Pere or a diner in Ashwaubenon, you’re going to hear the same argument eventually. It’s the one about who’s the greatest. Is it the stoic Bart Starr, the gunslinging Brett Favre, or the surgically precise Aaron Rodgers? Honestly, it’s a ridiculous problem to have. Most NFL franchises spend decades—literally decades—wandering through a desert of mediocre signal-callers, praying for a guy who can just complete a slant route on third-and-short.
Green Bay? They’ve had a Hall of Fame-caliber starter for roughly 30 of the last 34 years.
It’s basically a statistical anomaly. It’s like winning the lottery, then finding another winning ticket on the sidewalk on your way to cash the first one. But if you look at green bay quarterback history through a wider lens, you see it isn't just about three guys. It’s a century-long obsession with the forward pass that started back when most teams were still trying to run the ball into a pile of dirt.
The Pre-Lombardi Days and the Invention of the Long Ball
People forget that before the Super Bowl was a thing, Green Bay was already the epicenter of passing innovation. In the 1930s, Curly Lambeau—yeah, the guy the stadium is named after—found a kid named Arnie Herber.
Herber was a Green Bay native. He was also kind of a freak. He used to throw the ball with all five fingers on the laces, which is something basically nobody else did. In 1936, he became the first passer in NFL history to throw for over 1,000 yards in a single season. That sounds like a Tuesday afternoon for a modern QB, but in 1936? That was revolutionary.
Then came Cecil Isbell. Isbell only played five seasons, but he was a monster. In 1942, he threw for 2,021 yards and 24 touchdowns. To put that in perspective, some teams didn't hit those numbers in the 1970s. These guys were throwing to Don Hutson, the man who essentially invented modern route running. This was the blueprint. The Packers didn't just stumble into being a "quarterback team" in the 90s; it’s in the DNA.
Bart Starr and the Era of Efficiency
Then there’s Bart Starr. He wasn't the biggest, and he certainly didn't have the strongest arm. He was a 17th-round draft pick. Let that sink in for a second. In today's draft, he wouldn't even be a Mr. Irrelevant; he’d be a guy trying to get a tryout at a local community college.
But Vince Lombardi saw something in him. Starr was the ultimate "field general," a term that gets thrown around too much now but actually meant something back then. He called his own plays. He was the guy who suggested the quarterback sneak in the "Ice Bowl" against Dallas in 1967.
📖 Related: Matthew Berry Positional Rankings: Why They Still Run the Fantasy Industry
- 5 NFL Championships
- 2 Super Bowl MVPs
- 9-1 Postseason Record
His postseason passer rating was 104.8. That was a record for decades. Even now, in 2026, when passing numbers are inflated beyond recognition, Starr’s efficiency in the biggest games remains the gold standard for green bay quarterback history. He didn't need to throw for 400 yards to beat you. He just needed to not make a mistake. And he almost never did.
The Dark Ages: 1968 to 1991
We have to talk about the lean years. You can't appreciate the highs without the 24 years of absolute "what on earth are we doing?" that followed Starr’s retirement.
Names like David Whitehurst, Randy Wright, and Anthony Dilweg haunt the nightmares of older Packers fans. There were flashes of hope, sure. Lynn Dickey had an absolute cannon and threw for over 4,400 yards in 1983, which was insane for that era. But he also threw 29 interceptions that same year. 29! The defense couldn't stop a nosebleed, and the Packers finished 8-8.
Then there was the "Majik Man," Don Majkowski. For one glorious season in 1989, it felt like the Packers were back. He led the league in passing yards and nearly took them to the playoffs. But injuries derailed him, and by 1992, the franchise was at a crossroads.
The Trade That Changed Everything
In 1992, Ron Wolf traded a first-round pick to the Atlanta Falcons for a backup quarterback who had precisely zero completions and one interception in his NFL career. His name was Brett Favre.
The guy was a mess. He had a reputation for partying, his mechanics were non-existent, and he played like he was trying to throw the ball through a brick wall. But when he stepped in for an injured Majkowski against the Bengals in Week 3, everything changed.
Favre brought a joy to the game that was infectious. He also brought 321 consecutive starts (including playoffs). Think about the physical toll of that. He played with broken thumbs, separated shoulders, and a heavy heart after his father passed away. He won three straight MVPs from 1995 to 1997. He was a gambler, and sometimes those gambles resulted in soul-crushing interceptions, but he gave the Packers a chance to win every single Sunday for 16 years.
👉 See also: What Time Did the Cubs Game End Today? The Truth About the Off-Season
The Aaron Rodgers Transition
If the Favre era was about chaos and passion, the Aaron Rodgers era was about cold, calculated brilliance. Taking over for a legend is usually a death sentence for a young QB. Just ask anyone who had to follow Dan Marino or John Elway.
Rodgers sat for three years. He watched. He waited. He grew a chip on his shoulder the size of the Upper Peninsula.
When he finally took over in 2008, he didn't just play well; he redefined the position. His 2011 season—45 touchdowns and only 6 interceptions—might be the greatest single season any quarterback has ever played. He won four MVPs. He moved like a point guard and threw the ball with a flick of the wrist that looked effortless.
But it wasn't just the stats. It was the "Hail Marys" against Detroit and Arizona. It was the "Run the Table" stretch in 2016. Rodgers made the impossible look routine. By the time he was traded to the Jets in 2023, he had cemented his place as perhaps the most talented thrower of the football to ever live.
Jordan Love and the 2026 Reality
And now we’re here. The Jordan Love era.
When the Packers drafted Love in 2020, people lost their minds. "Why draft a QB when you have Rodgers?" "You’re wasting a window!" Honestly, the criticism was deafening. But the Packers stuck to the script. They let him sit. They let him learn from Tom Clements, the same coach who refined Rodgers.
The 2023 season started shaky. Love looked lost at times. People were calling for Matt LaFleur’s head. Then, something clicked. Love finished the regular season on an absolute tear, dismantled the Cowboys in the playoffs, and proved that the "Packer Way" of developing quarterbacks still works.
✨ Don't miss: Jake Ehlinger Sign: The Real Story Behind the College GameDay Controversy
In this 2025-2026 cycle, Love has solidified himself as a top-tier starter. He finished the 2025 regular season with 23 touchdowns and only 6 interceptions, ranking second in the league in EPA per play—trailing only Drake Maye. He’s not Rodgers, and he’s not Favre. He’s a weird, effective hybrid of the two. He has the calm pocket presence of Rodgers but isn't afraid to let it rip into tight windows like Favre used to do.
What We Can Learn from 100 Years of Packers QBs
Succession planning in the NFL is usually a disaster. Most teams fail because they’re desperate. They draft a kid and throw him to the wolves in Week 1 because their owner needs to sell tickets.
The Packers are different. They’re publicly owned. They don't have a billionaire breathing down their neck for immediate results. They can afford to be patient.
If you’re looking at green bay quarterback history for lessons, it’s basically this:
- Draft for talent, not just need. Don't be afraid to take a QB even if you have a starter.
- Patience pays off. Sitting a quarterback for 2-3 years allows them to fail in practice rather than on national TV.
- Stability matters. Having the same offensive system and quarterback-centric coaching staff for years creates a safety net.
The transition from Rodgers to Love was supposed to be the end of the dynasty. Instead, it looks like just another chapter in a book that’s been being written since Arnie Herber first gripped the laces in 1930.
To really understand the current state of the team, you should look at how the Packers' current offensive line protects the interior compared to the early Rodgers years. The scheme has shifted toward more "illusion of complexity" under LaFleur, which has significantly lowered the "degree of difficulty" for Love compared to the isolated deep shots Rodgers had to take late in his tenure. Keep an eye on how the front office handles the upcoming contract extensions for the young receiving corps—that will be the real test of whether Love can maintain this trajectory through the late 2020s.