Always Controversial, Terrell Owens Truly Is "The Anti-Player"

Call me a purist.

Yep. That’s what it must be. That must be why I feel as strongly as I do about the game of football. Why I’m compelled to add my two cents to a topic that has received more attention than it’s worth. A topic that seems small in the majestic history of football, and even smaller in the wake of the challenges our nation faces.

Maybe it’s naiveté. Or a sincere passion for this game that has enriched my life and probably yours.    

Whatever the case, you, noble reader, are my release. And I can only hope you can bear with me.

Yep. I’m the guy who prefers college football to its professional step-son, the National Football League. I got more of a thrill watching Boise State’s “Statue of Liberty” play in its miracle win over Oklahoma than watching Eli Manning and David Tyree’s unbelievable play in last year’s Super Bowl. 

I’m the guy who watches the Army-Navy game each year—loyally. And has convinced himself that those slower, smaller guys represent real football players.

I’m the guy who believes that football is a microcosm of life—a testament to the power of mankind when he bands himself to another for a common cause. I believe that even in a world that emphasizes the accomplishment of individuals the game of football is evidence that a team is not merely a sum of its players—it’s a manifestation of their common effort. 

Now you may not agree with me on all that. 

And that’s fine. 

You might be saying to yourself, “This guy’s got problems.”

And I do. 

But I think we can all agree on one thing. 

Terrell Owens has bigger problems.    

Let me posit for you now a disclaimer. Life has taught me never to judge a man’s character. Each of us is a victim and beneficiary of our own experiences and each is endowed with our own strengths and weakness. 

So in keeping with that, I attempt to explain my opinion of the player and not the person. And in my opinion, Owens is "The Anti-Player."

That’s right, The Anti-Player. 

He might be one of the greatest athletes on the face of the earth. He may be a physical freak of nature. But the man just simply isn’t a football player. 

I’m a young guy. But even as one born in a generation with an alleged over-emphasis on “self,” it’s hard to find any character in public life as uncontrollably narcissistic as Mr. Owens seems to be. The recently exposed Governor of Illinois should be referred to as the “Terrell Owens of politics.” 

Owens' recent tirade against fellow teammates Tony Romo and Jason Witten is perhaps one of the most incredible acts of selfishness in sports and is a stain to the game of football. The allegation that his teammates are conspiring against Owens to marginalize his role is laughable. It suggests that Owens believes his failure as a player is so important to his teammates that they would sacrifice their own interests out of spite. 

Now, in truth, it’s not as inconceivable as some proclaim. Football players are human.  And humans have done worse things out of spite.

But Owens' argument is delegitimized by the fact that allegations such as these seem to follow him everywhere he goes. It was there in San Francisco. It was there in Philadelphia.

Now, it’s Dallas. 

Okay, let me come clean. I’ve been a Washington Redskins fan for as long as I can remember. So the recent unhinging of the Dallas Cowboys brings with it a sadistic glee that only a 'Skins fan could enjoy. 

But as an admirer of the game, I feel for Owens’ teammates.

And I even feel for Owens.

What’s unfortunate is that in his endless pursuit of relevance, Owens is on a constant march toward insignificance. His insatiable thirst for highlights and statistical dominance serves only to leave him a footnote in the noble annals of football history.

Owens could be one of the most triumphant figures in sports; a remarkable athlete from Alabama who emerged out of the little-known University of Tennessee-Chattanooga to become an NFL legend. Instead, he squanders that opportunity with every team he unravels.

Owens doesn’t yet understand that concept of team I described above. He doesn’t understand that greatness on the field is defined not by the number of touchdowns one scores, or yards one gains—but by one’s contribution to the game. It’s one’s legacy, not his stats that will define him, just as it is each of our legacy, not our successes, that will define our lives.

And what will be T.O’s legacy? 

He can’t say how many teams he helped lead to Super Bowl victory. Instead, he can only point to those he’s left in his wake. 

He can’t argue he was a unifying force—a leader, because the path he takes is always toward conflict and spite. 

He can’t suggest he was the hero, because no matter how spectacular his catches, he’ll be the guy we use to exemplify how not to play the game. 

Unfortunately at this rate, all Owens will have is his stats and his pay stubs. 

Look, I’m one who truly believes professional football players deserve to get paid. They sacrifice their bodies week-in and week-out for our collective amusement while some rich club owner gets a little richer. But with that wealth we should expect football players to conduct themselves with an appreciation for the game...our game. 

Football doesn’t belong to one player, or a team, or even the NFL’s owners. Football belongs to the people that fill its bleachers week after week—and it’s the players...the real players—who recognize that. 

Unlike many, I don’t believe it’s too late for Owens to renew his legacy. But until he understands that his contribution to the game of football goes beyond his presence and stats, his legacy will forever be defined by what he destroyed rather than what he accomplished. 

Until then, he is and will remain, The Anti-Player.