SHOULD WE STOP LOOKING AT “T.O.”?
By Charles JayÂ
We’re in the midst of a whole new generation in sports. This is a time when star players not only make much more than coaches, but often have the power to get those coaches fired. They position themselves as bigger than the team, bigger than the game.
On the one hand, you can’t blame the players for being of the culture where they are very aware about marketing themselves, considering that when they negotiate agreements, they are doing so in an atmosphere where management is taking into account their individual accomplishments. Careers are short, and while the commercial opportunities are plentiful, the window for taking advantage of them is not very wide.
But what we have found ourselves in is the “Look At Me” era in professional sports - particularly unsavory as it appears in the team dynamic - where the athlete is bound and determined to call as much attention to himself as possible, mindful of the fact that it detracts from the team and often DIS-tracts it.
Maybe some of that self-absorption is understandable, using today’s standards, since in the NFL specifically, very little is guaranteed.
But Terrell Owens’ recent “near-death” experience has us staring into the abyss.
In an NFL Network interview that took place some weeks ago with the pre-eminent “Look At Me” philosopher - Deion “Prime Time” Sanders - Owens had the nerve to imply, in effect, that he is misunderstood, that people don’t know the “real Terrell Owens” and that there is a distinction between Terrell Owens and this persona called “T.O.”
The problem with it is that HE created T.O., WE didn’t. HE chose to affect the blurring of the line between the person and the persona, WE didn’t. HE cooked the meal. WE have been gullible enough to eat it.
T.O. may continue to cook the meal. But something tells me people may start sending it back to the kitchen with a little more regularity in the future.
When you:
– Run to the center of the Texas Stadium field after scoring a touchdown for the opposing team and plant the ball at the Cowboys’ star at the 50-yard line;
– Score a touchdown, then sign the ball, in the end zone, with a Sharpie, for the consumption of a national television audience;
– Intentionally use press opportunities to lash out with criticism of your QB’s (e.g., Jeff Garcia and Donovan McNabb);
– Hold yourself out of camp while under contract and conduct press conferences with your loudmouthed agent as a re-negotiation tool;
– Write the “tell-all” book that goes beyond that which is obligatory for any garden-variety prima donna,
………you are going out of your way to draw attention to yourself.
Now we can add to that litany:
– Taking an excess of pain killers, with your “publicist” making a frantic call to the police as if a tragedy is unfolding.
Because if that “publicist,” Kim Etheridge, is going to sit down in front of microphones at a press conference and assert that this was somehow blown out of proportion, then one must conclude that this episode and the way it was spun must have carried with it a certain degree of affectation.
It’s not unreasonable, when one examines the transcript of Etheridge’s call to 911, which was somewhat frantic.
If her point is that the incident was covered disproportionately in comparison to any other 911 emergency, she’s absolutely right. But of course, it involved an individual (whom she supports as part of his machinery) who, if given the choice, would prefer to be covered disproporionately in comparison to just about everything.
He’s fair game, and deserves to be, because he’s invited that kind of scrutiny. When you engage in this level of narcissism, you live by the camera, and you die by the camera. And that’s not a pun.
As I write this, I’m not really sure about Owens’ status for Sunday’s game in Nashville. But I could almost guarantee he’ll be there for the next week’s game with the Eagles.
I don’t care if his hand is falling off - it’s too good a photo op for him to miss.
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