Monday, August 1, 2011

If you don't write checks, how do you pay these guys?

When I went to bed last night Randy Moss was just one of hundreds of free agents still out there waiting to be picked up by some team. At best his personality and effort would be described as "mercurial." One of the biggest questions about him was if his major decline last season was caused by a deterioration of skills or a lack of motivation or a combination of both.

This morning, Randy Moss was one of the best wide receivers to ever play the game. His route running and smooth strides put him in a position where his size, hands, and freakish athletic ability allowed him to make seemingly every catch.

It's funny how retirement changes our perspective.

It makes perfect sense of course. When an athlete is still playing we have to view them as they currently are. Sure you respect what they've done in the past, but if you're trying to assess what they can do now, you have to throw out nostalgia and reminiscing.

It's only natural towards the end of their career to look back on what they've done and really appreciate the athlete's body of work as a whole and retirement forces that on us.

In Moss's case, I'm not weighing the risk of drafting him in fantasy football hoping he can latch on with a team (and quarterback) where he can be useful at least to the tune of 700 yards and 8 TDs. Instead we can remember him announcing his arrival to the league with 17 touchdown receptions in 1998 setting a rookie record, then teaming up with Tom Brady for another record with 23 TDs in 2007. We can recall the special role he played on teams that went 15-1 and 16-0 even though neither went on to win the Super Bowl.

In some ways it seems like it might be wrong that our view can change so rapidly with a single announcement. On one hand it feels like as fans we're being too optimistic as we just choose what we want to remember about an athlete. On the other hand, for the great ones, we really aren't choosing at all. They've determined how they'll be remembered as the things they accomplished on the field, court, ring, etc are seared into our brain.

When Shaq is inducted into the basketball hall of fame, no one's going to remember him hobbling up and down the floor for Cleveland and Boston. No, it'll be visions of Young Shaquille sprinting down the court for a massive dunk or joking around with the media nicknaming himself or, my personal favorite, this. Oh goodness, more of that. Please.

Sometimes we're stuck in the awkward position of being close enough to the end to reminisce about an athlete, but far enough away where it feels like we might be dishonoring him (or her) by pretending as if they're done.

When I first started watching mixed martial arts, Fedor Emelianenko was the baddest heavyweight on the planet. The way he fought was like a cyborg. He could fire his rocket of a right hand on the feet or on the ground and there was little his opponents could do. His footwork and speed allowed him to pick apart fighters on the feet, and his incredible hip movement let him ground and pound at will no matter who's guard he was in.

Now he's lost three in a row and his future is up in the air. A part of me wants to look back at his record and point out that he's really only beat three heavyweights at the top of their game (Heath Herring, Antonio Rodrigo Nogueira x2, Mirko Filipovic), but another part remembers that for years he smashed everyone in his way and almost never seemed like he was in danger. It's almost like I just want him to decide one way or another, to take a fight or to officially hang up the gloves so that we know whether we should be celebrating his career or wondering if he's still got it.

That's just the brutal world of sports. It's so fast-paced and it's no hyperbole to say that today's hot stuff could easily be tomorrow's old news. Every athlete, without exception, will be slowed by age and/or injuries eventually. There will always be a point where they just don't have it anymore and we'll look on their career in hindsight and inevitably judge it. Some with leave a legendary legacy but others nothing at all.

But as competitors these athletes have no time to think of that. They have to focus on the next game, the next play so that they don't get caught up and distracted by what's to come. All that will take care of itself in time. But for now? Straight cash homey.