It's official. Steve Young's brain now belongs to him again and is no longer an issue for radio talk show chimps.

	Although he won just one championship, Steve Young ranks high on the list of all-time greats.

Now we can say, "There goes one of the game's finest quarterbacks,"' rather than "There goes the poster boy for Martha Stewart Home, Garden And Neurology."

And you have no idea what a relief that is to us all.

Young retires Monday after the longest "love-me, love-me-not" game in history, the latest side agenda in a career full of them. From "How could he go to the USFL?" to "How could he make Tampa win?" to "How can he stand and wait behind Joe Montana?" to "How did he force Joe Montana out?" to "When is he going to win the big one?" to "When is he going to win the big one again?" to "When is he going to stop all this foolishness and get out?" Young has been twisted into a number of bendable poses for our amusement.

Why, the only peace he ever got was when he was being chased by blood-blinded mesomorphs. No wonder he didn't want to quit.

But now he is "just" an ex-quarterback ... unless, like nearly every other athlete of the last 20 years, he changes his mind again. And now it is fair to try to figure where he stands in the firmament of great NFL quarterbacks.

We'll start with easy ones. He isn't as good as Montana, or Johnny Unitas, and it is hard to make a case for him being better than Otto Graham, Sid Luckman or Bart Starr, just to name a few men who won more than one title.

No shame in that, though. These are almost universally regarded as the five best in history, and for all Young's gifts, his single ring does not place him that group.

After that, everything is arguable. Young was the most aggressively mobile quarterback of his day, perhaps the best example of that since Roger Staubach. He did not have Dan Marino's arm, but he did have Montana's mastery of the short game. He did not have Terry Bradshaw's jewelry collection, but he did have Don Meredith's command in a huddle. He could dominate a game with his presence the way Ken Stabler or Troy Aikman did, and could make the game turn on his individual skills like Bobby Layne.

Young as a football player was not a unique figure, but he was an unusual one. What made him riveting was all the side issues --- his skills in articulation, his ability to play the media like the cheap ocarina it often is, his educational background, his apparent interest in things not directly related to the game.

And, to be sure, his predecessor and mentor. He followed Montana, and some believe he helped push Montana out. He learned under Bill Walsh, the dominant coaching and teaching figure of his era. He benefited from the grandiose largesse of Eddie DeBartolo, the last successful owner of the profligate (read: non-salary capped) era. He made much of his name operating the primary offense of the day, throwing to the best wide receiver of all time.

He brought his gifts to an optimal situation, and both he and those around him were rewarded for that fortuitous confluence.

Oh, and he added eight years to the already elongated 49er era. It seems vaguely right that it ended when he did, and will probably take several years to repair, if it ever is.

Great quarterbacks, you see, are the easiest people to replace and the hardest people to replicate. There are more quarterbacks who run with Young's abandon than at any time since the Wing-T, but none who throw with his precision, and none who couldn't be exchanged for another just as quickly.

Thus, his retirement is an important day in the history of football, and not just because it seemed to take forever to arrive. How you want to place him in the game's history is up to you, though, because Steve Young> had one gift that none of the others did.

Steve Young could be whoever you wanted him to be, hero or villain, perpetrator or victim, champion or contender, depending on your own prejudices. He was the quarterback of a million faces, and you could have him wear the one you wanted.

At least you could until now. Now, he is an ex-quarterback --- a very good one, true, but an ex-quarterback nonetheless.

And they said it couldn't be done.

Ray Ratto, a columnist for the San Francisco Examiner, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.