In the middle of a Super Bowl week, where talking to the media is as much about private strategy as public relations, this column should probably be saved for next week, AFTER Terrell Owens actually suits up and plays in Sunday’s spectacle as he says he will.
But my time is now, so I will word my rant like this: If Terrell Owens plays a significant role in an Eagle victory this weekend, my opinion of him will change forever.
Up until this point in his career I have seen little from Owens that would make me a fan of his amazing talents. He has been selfish. He has been arrogant.
He was at the center of a controversy in San Francisco that resulted in not only the firing of an outstanding coach in Steve Mariucci, but the departure of franchise quarterback Jeff Garcia as well.
Then Owens still demands to be traded. Even Kobe had more class than that.
Owens spent his time in San Francisco berating his coaches and teammates, brawling with Dallas Cowboys and selfishly taunting opponents with an endless array of distracting celebrations.
He appeared to be a punk with an ego problem, un-coach-able at best. He had the unique ability to make fans scream in awe of his physical abilities on the field and shake their heads in shame at the lack of character their superstar showed off it.
These problems continued once he arrived in Philadelphia. He publicly argued with Donovan McNabb, he called Ray Lewis a criminal and he lit up TV screens in a sizzling ABC promo.
But all that can be erased with a great performance on Sunday. Owens has a chance to shine on the greatest stage in his sport and win a long-awaited Super Bowl title for the city of Philadelphia.
But more than that, he has a chance to do it on a bum ankle that even decorated physicians said would take him another couple of weeks to recover from.
That is a far cry from the whiney, selfish jerk that demanded to be traded to the Eagles less than a year ago.
This is the type of action that makes stars into heroes. Curt Schilling has been a great pitcher for a long time, but until he pitched the Boston to a World Series on a fastball and a bloody ankle, he was just another star. Willis Reed was a Hall of Fame player for the New York Knicks in the 1970s. But it wasn’t until he limped out onto the court in game seven of the finals, scored the first two buckets and led the Knicks to a title that he became a legend.
T.O. has that opportunity this weekend. If he can perform in the face of physical pain, then the maturation process of this young star will be complete.
If he can prove to Philadelphia and the world that he is as dedicated to winning a championship as he is to tireless self-promotion, then all debts are forgiven. In one moment he can change his image from Bad Boy to Legend.