Dear Randy Moss, As I was lying in the bed this morning/afternoon, struggling to think of a column idea, it hit me.
I know how you can get all of your credibility back, and how you can earn back respect and thanks from a league that often seems like it would do anything to make you disappear.
It's actually pretty easy. All you need to do is follow the example of another class clown of professional sports: Jose Canseco.
To better explain this, allow me a quick digression. When I was in the first grade, Jose Canseco was my idol. I had a huge poster of him on my wall, I treasured his autograph, and I even sprayed my hair black and dressed up as him for Halloween. My friends, of course, made the obligatory steroid jokes, but I paid them no mind. In my trusting, six-year-old mind, Jose was just naturally big, strong and fast. Boy, was I wrong.
But that's beside the point. While Jose may not have been the clubhouse cancer that you are, Randy, he still did some pretty stupid stuff. There was the time in May 1993 when his Rangers were being blown out by the Red Sox, and he convinced his manager to let him pitch an inning. He blew out his elbow and missed half a season. Then there was the time that a ball bounced off of his head on a routine fly to right field. Problem was, the ball bounced over the fence for a home run. Then of course there were the arrests: some for driving violations and one for gun possession.
What's so tragic about this is that steroids or not, Canseco was one of the most profoundly talented athletes to ever pick up a bat. Sounds oddly familiar, doesn't it, Randy? I could easily make a case that you are the most talented receiver ever to strap on shoulder pads. Yet more and more, it has become apparent that you just don't care. Add that to the admitted marijuana use, fighting, the incident where you pushed a cop with your car and quitting on your team, and it becomes clear that football isn't your priority anymore.
See Randy, I'm different from everyone else, though. I don't care that you once ran a 4.25 40-yard dash. I don't care that you set the rookie record for touchdowns. I don't even care that you played for a '98 Vikings team that went 15-1 and was the No. 1 seed in the NFC.
But I actually think you're a decent guy, and more importantly, I think you're funny. Which brings me back to Jose Canseco. When Jose became the whistle-blower on the steroids scandal, all of a sudden, people started respecting him again. The class clown turned cheater became baseball's guilty conscience, and people loved him for it. In a span of a few months Jose Canseco went from the guy everyone loved to hate to the guy everyone was proud to have once been a fan of. All because he wanted to make a little cash!
Football has lacked a major steroids scandal. Yet we all know that players are juicing. Why is it a huge deal when a few minor league pitchers are caught using amphetamines, but no one seems to care when Shawne Merriman, last year's Defensive Rookie of the Year, is suspended for steroid use? It's ridiculous.
So Randy, all you really have to do is call some guys out. You've done it before. After all, you're the guy who once said that the plane crash that killed the Marshall football team, "really wasn't nothing big." Seems like you'd be perfect for the job.
Randy, you seem to love to run your mouth. So why not do it for a worthy cause?
Will Herberich is a freshman. He can be reached at William.Herberich@tufts.edu.
