Why We Put Too Much Emphasis on Rings When Evaluating NFL Careers

With a little distance from the announcement of the Hall of Fame Class of 2012 announcement, it's interesting to look at the group chosen to this high honor.

Former Pats and Jets running back Curtis Martin; Vikings, Falcons and 49ers defensive lineman Chris Doleman; Seahawks defensive lineman Cortez Kennedy; former Steelers offensive lineman Dermontti Dawson; former Chiefs and Saints offensive lineman Willie Roaf; and Jack Butler, a cornerback for the 1950's era Steelers.

It's quite a list, and there were more than a few worthy candidates left off it once again.

Do you know the one thing the above six players have in common?

There's not a championship ring among them.

That's right, not one of them has a Super Bowl ring. Go ahead and check, I'll be here when you get back.

*eats popcorn, plays Madden*

Here's something for the rest of you not researching.

Back? I was right, wasn't I? Not one ring. They're in the Hall of Fame though.

How often do we see arguments about what makes a player HOF-worthy where it degenerates into a "he didn't win enough"?

I like to call that "The Marino Gambit." It occurs when, in the course of a Hall of Fame or GOAT (Greatest of All Time) debate, someone decides to pull out how many rings the player in question has as proof that they don't deserve to be in the conversation..

In other words, can Dan Marino be among the greatest quarterbacks ever if he never won the "Big One"?

This question plagues quarterbacks more than any other position, but it can be applied unilaterally across the field, and it's overly dismissive regardless of whom it's applied to in a vacuum.

Does a Super Bowl Championship make one a lock for the Hall of Fame? Of course not. Nor does it make one ineligible to be in the Hall of Fame.

I like to think that the actual Hall of Fame committee isn't sucked into this sort of nonsense, but there are always stories that say otherwise. Personal bias can always factor into a decision being made by fallible humans. (On the other hand, the BCS computers are ridiculous too, so...)

Why do we make the argument? Why is it so prevalent?

There are several reasons.

First of all, for all the folks who will read this column and know and love football—all the readers who can rattle off not just Joe Montana's stats but Y.A. Tittle's and Slingin' Sammy Baugh's—consider the fact that you are not the average fan.

Heck, if you're here reading this piece as well as the tons of other football content in the offseason, you probably knew that anyway.

Remember that, and consider that most fans don't have your knowledge and passion for the game. I don't mean they don't love football. I mean they don't live it the way you do.

They can't tell you which year was Ollie Matson's best (1956 for the Chicago Cardinals with 924 yards and five touchdowns on the ground) without Google to help. They may not even be able to tell you much about Curtis Martin or Franco Harris.

They can't tell you why Chris Carter isn't in the Hall of Fame.

Unless they look and see that Carter has no Super Bowl rings. With no other real perspective other than stats, the ultimate stat (JUST WIN BABY and SCOREBOARD) is the one they turn to.

If you don't win, how can you be the best?

What about Barry Sanders, you say? How can Warren Moon be in then, you ask?

Well, here is the second problem with the average fan. There is very little appreciation or knowledge of the full width of the game.

The younger a person in question gets, the more that's the case. Again, if you're here, you likely don't fit the profile. Your friends might not either (like hangs with like).

However a great many young fans are concerned with the here and now, not the past. Which leaves them with a lack of perspective especially when a player played either prior to their lifetime or when they were very young.

How can you really know if Carter deserves to be in the Hall of Fame when you never saw him play?

Again, there's an easy criteria to use. If you have no real basis for comparison between players, what else would you use?

Of course, the reality is that no other sport is quite the team sport that the NFL is. A great player is important and can help a team but as Barry Sanders can tell you, one great player surrounded by a lot of trash is limited in how much he can do.

The team wins. The team loses. One man can only do so much.

So if that's the case, why do so many people cling to a flawed argument?

Our society tends to want to look at things as very black or white, right or wrong. A simple answer for questions that are too complex for it. In a debate about Hall of Fame worthiness, it's too easy to point to a player and say "Player A didn't win a ring, so he's not as good as Player B, who did."

It isn't right, it shouldn't happen. A more careful and close examination needs to be made.We need to look beyond the "ultimate win" and consider all the factors that make a player great.

The scoreboard isn't always the ultimate arbiter of greatness we want it to be.