A few weeks after tossing incoming rookie signal-caller Robert Griffin III and the Washington Redskins under the bus, McNabb has once again taken to the airwaves, claiming that if his playing days are indeed done, then the Pro Football Hall of Fame had better get started on a new wing where it can display his bronze bust in five years.
(It's important to note here that McNabb mistakenly believed that it was a bronze butt and not bust, which would explain the need for a new wing in the museum.)
Pro Football Talk reported Thursday that in a video interview with Barfly, the six-time Pro Bowl signal-caller indicated that he believes he's more than worthy for inclusion among the NFL's all-time greats based on his career achievements. McNabb said:
I played at the pinnacle, I played at the highest level of my career. I played there. And I would vote for myself for the Hall of Fame.
When you sit and look at the numbers—and that's what it is when it comes to the Hall of Fame—my numbers are better than Jim Kelly, better than Troy Aikman, better than a lot of guys who are in the Hall of Fame. But the one thing they do have is a Super Bowl.
I'm guessing that many players would vote for themselves for the Hall of Fame, and apparently McNabb's recollection of Kelly's career is about as clear as his understanding of overtime rules, but let's set that aside for a bit and look solely at McNabb's body of work throughout his 13-year career.
Assuming that McNabb never plays again, he will conclude his playing career with a record of 107-69-1, 37,276 passing yards, 234 passing touchdowns and a career quarterback rating of 85.6.
McNabb played in a total of five NFC Championship Games, winning one, and lost his only Super Bowl appearance, 24-21, to the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XXXIX.
According to McNabb, those numbers speak for themselves, as does his ability to continually lead his team to the "big game," which apparently means something slightly different to him than to most casual fans:
What makes a Hall of Fame quarterback is, first of all, his numbers, (then) how many times he's led his team to the big game—which the big game still is the NFC championship.
To his credit, McNabb's stats do compare favorably to Kelly's and Aikman's.
However, Kelly threw more TD passes, appeared in four consecutive Super Bowls and would have surpassed McNabb's yardage total had they played the same number of seasons in the NFL, while Aikman has three gaudy rings on his fingers that signify winning some "big game" that has apparently escaped McNabb's memory.
Also, although McNabb posted very good numbers throughout most of his career, he had only fleeting moments of true greatness, never throwing for more than 4,000 yards in a season and topping 30 touchdown passes only once.
Finally, while I'm pretty sure McNabb would like to pretend they never happened, his last two seasons in Washington and Minnesota were unmitigated disasters.
Time may dull those unpleasant memories much in the same way that no one remembers Joe Namath in San Francisco or Johnny Unitas in San Diego, but the fact remains that—for now, at least—the picture of an overweight McNabb sulking on the sideline in D.C. is still plenty fresh in everyone's mind, which makes the timing of Donovan's chest-thumping almost laughable.
The Hall of Fame loves it some quarterbacks, and McNabb was a very good NFL quarterback that was great at times.
However, the last time I checked, the building in Canton wasn't called the "Hall of Really Good," and without a championship or ridiculous statistical production, McNabb's best bet for a trip to the Hall of Fame in the near future is to pony up the 21 bucks like the rest of us.