Post by EagleGene on May 12, 2005 19:09:04 GMT -5
Catching may only be T.O.'s second-best skill
By JIM LITKE, AP Sports Columnist
May 12, 2005
Catching the ball is supposed to be Terrell Owens' specialty.
Turns out he's pretty good at throwing down, too, at least when it involves tossing somebody under a bus. In what is threatening to become an annual event, T.O. decided to amuse himself recently by seeing how another teammate -- in this case, Donovan McNabb -- would look with tire tracks imbedded in his reputation.
Upset with the seven-year, nearly $49 million contract he signed with Philadelphia only last March, Owens first tried to make his displeasure known by skipping the team's mandatory minicamp last month. When that stunt failed to have the desired effect on Eagles' management, T.O. resorted to another familiar ruse -- running over teammates to make himself look better.
Asked to justify his renegotiating stance, Owens answered by taking a cheap shot at McNabb: ``I'm not the guy who got tired in the Super Bowl.''
This is a little like Kobe Bryant volunteering to the cops in Colorado that his ex-teammate, Shaquille O'Neal, had his own way of dealing with problems -- even though they weren't asking about Shaq. But at least those two had a long-standing feud. Why Owens chose to trash McNabb is something only he can answer. It might be because he's jealous that the Eagles remain McNabb's team. More likely, Owens is jealous of the 12-year, $115 million contract the quarterback negotiated two years earlier. Either way, it was a strange call.
Not only did McNabb use that leadership to persuade the front office to take a chance on Owens after the wide receiver wore out his welcome in San Francisco; now, McNabb said life without T.O. won't necessarily be any less rewarding than with him. If that isn't washing his hands of the highest-maintenance part in the NFL's vast machinery, somebody tell me what is.
``With T.O., I think we can do a lot of great things,'' McNabb said. ``Without him, I still think we can do a lot of good things.''
But it was already clear Owens had struck a nerve. On the first day of minicamp, McNabb warned T.O. ``Just keep my name out of your mouth. Don't try to throw names or guys under the bus to better yourself.''
Unfortunately, had McNabb done more studying and less lobbying, he would have seen this coming. At his last stop, Owens trashed then-49ers quarterback Jeff Garcia for failing to get him the ball, and then went after Steve Mariucci, his coach at the time, for the same sin. What McNabb failed to grasp is that T.O. might be willing to change his uniform, but never his stripes.
All that talk about how happy he was to be in Philadelphia turns out to have been just that -- talk. He might have had a case for renegotiating before he stepped on the field for the Super Bowl. Owens was coming off an arduous rehab and risking his career to play in the game less than seven weeks after it took two screws and a steel plate just to put his ankle back together. Back then, the risk was all his.
Now, Owens is a 31-year-old player with one questionable wheel, a long-term contract and a well-deserved reputation as a clubhouse toxin. He did plenty for the Eagles last season, catching 14 touchdowns and propping up the franchise's notoriously fragile self-image. But the same ankle caused him to miss what was arguably the toughest stretch of the season. The Eagles finally broke the hex of three straight losses in the NFC championship game with him on the roster, but it's worth noting that the only contribution Owens made that day was swinging a set of pom-poms while cheerleading from the sideline.
Some of that may have figured in owner Jeff Lurie's decision to tell Owens the club won't redo his contract. Since Owens hates to hear the word ``no,'' there's no chance we're anywhere near the end of this story.
When his orthopedic surgeon advised him not to play in the Super Bowl, T.O. insisted he had the OK from a higher authority. ``God has already cured me,'' Owens said, and to the surprise of just about everyone but T.O., he put in a solid appearance in a losing effort.
Apparently, that same higher authority wasn't available for Owens's renegotiating effort. So T.O. did the next best thing. He fired agent and longtime pal David Joseph and signed on with Drew Rosenhaus, considered in most NFL front offices to be the devil himself.
Rosenhaus didn't return a message left on his cell phone Thursday afternoon. But Owens looks like a good fit on his long list of clients, several of whom just happened to be no-shows at recent minicamps. And it's a good thing T.O. aligned himself with the toughest bargainer in the business, because the list of guys lining up to vouch for him this time might begin and end with Rosenhaus.
Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke@ap.org
Updated on Thursday, May 12, 2005 7:52 pm EDT
By JIM LITKE, AP Sports Columnist
May 12, 2005
Catching the ball is supposed to be Terrell Owens' specialty.
Turns out he's pretty good at throwing down, too, at least when it involves tossing somebody under a bus. In what is threatening to become an annual event, T.O. decided to amuse himself recently by seeing how another teammate -- in this case, Donovan McNabb -- would look with tire tracks imbedded in his reputation.
Upset with the seven-year, nearly $49 million contract he signed with Philadelphia only last March, Owens first tried to make his displeasure known by skipping the team's mandatory minicamp last month. When that stunt failed to have the desired effect on Eagles' management, T.O. resorted to another familiar ruse -- running over teammates to make himself look better.
Asked to justify his renegotiating stance, Owens answered by taking a cheap shot at McNabb: ``I'm not the guy who got tired in the Super Bowl.''
This is a little like Kobe Bryant volunteering to the cops in Colorado that his ex-teammate, Shaquille O'Neal, had his own way of dealing with problems -- even though they weren't asking about Shaq. But at least those two had a long-standing feud. Why Owens chose to trash McNabb is something only he can answer. It might be because he's jealous that the Eagles remain McNabb's team. More likely, Owens is jealous of the 12-year, $115 million contract the quarterback negotiated two years earlier. Either way, it was a strange call.
Not only did McNabb use that leadership to persuade the front office to take a chance on Owens after the wide receiver wore out his welcome in San Francisco; now, McNabb said life without T.O. won't necessarily be any less rewarding than with him. If that isn't washing his hands of the highest-maintenance part in the NFL's vast machinery, somebody tell me what is.
``With T.O., I think we can do a lot of great things,'' McNabb said. ``Without him, I still think we can do a lot of good things.''
But it was already clear Owens had struck a nerve. On the first day of minicamp, McNabb warned T.O. ``Just keep my name out of your mouth. Don't try to throw names or guys under the bus to better yourself.''
Unfortunately, had McNabb done more studying and less lobbying, he would have seen this coming. At his last stop, Owens trashed then-49ers quarterback Jeff Garcia for failing to get him the ball, and then went after Steve Mariucci, his coach at the time, for the same sin. What McNabb failed to grasp is that T.O. might be willing to change his uniform, but never his stripes.
All that talk about how happy he was to be in Philadelphia turns out to have been just that -- talk. He might have had a case for renegotiating before he stepped on the field for the Super Bowl. Owens was coming off an arduous rehab and risking his career to play in the game less than seven weeks after it took two screws and a steel plate just to put his ankle back together. Back then, the risk was all his.
Now, Owens is a 31-year-old player with one questionable wheel, a long-term contract and a well-deserved reputation as a clubhouse toxin. He did plenty for the Eagles last season, catching 14 touchdowns and propping up the franchise's notoriously fragile self-image. But the same ankle caused him to miss what was arguably the toughest stretch of the season. The Eagles finally broke the hex of three straight losses in the NFC championship game with him on the roster, but it's worth noting that the only contribution Owens made that day was swinging a set of pom-poms while cheerleading from the sideline.
Some of that may have figured in owner Jeff Lurie's decision to tell Owens the club won't redo his contract. Since Owens hates to hear the word ``no,'' there's no chance we're anywhere near the end of this story.
When his orthopedic surgeon advised him not to play in the Super Bowl, T.O. insisted he had the OK from a higher authority. ``God has already cured me,'' Owens said, and to the surprise of just about everyone but T.O., he put in a solid appearance in a losing effort.
Apparently, that same higher authority wasn't available for Owens's renegotiating effort. So T.O. did the next best thing. He fired agent and longtime pal David Joseph and signed on with Drew Rosenhaus, considered in most NFL front offices to be the devil himself.
Rosenhaus didn't return a message left on his cell phone Thursday afternoon. But Owens looks like a good fit on his long list of clients, several of whom just happened to be no-shows at recent minicamps. And it's a good thing T.O. aligned himself with the toughest bargainer in the business, because the list of guys lining up to vouch for him this time might begin and end with Rosenhaus.
Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke@ap.org
Updated on Thursday, May 12, 2005 7:52 pm EDT