I was following the “Terrell Owens not going to the Pro Football Hall of Fame induction ceremony” story from afar in Las Vegas (by the way, for those of you who haven’t been, you’re missing out – BIG time). Now that I am back home, I’ve got a few things to say about this.
I wish I could say I was shocked by his decision to skip the ceremony, but I’m not. Owens has grudges the size of Africa, and he strikes me as a guy who does not let go of such things.
I should know because I am a guy who carries grudges, and am VERY slow to forgive. My wife would tell y’all that is BIG reason why I typically refuse to go to any high school and college reunion. I just rather do without seeing those bastards (God is still working on me, y’all).
Back to Terrell Owens.
I hate it that he decided to skip the ceremony. To me, Owens being on that stage would have been the ultimate “fuck you” to all of his critics.
He could have used that opportunity to bask in the glow which would have made his numerous critics nauseous. He would have all the validation in the world.
Instead, choosing not to show up would validate his critics’ opinions of why he should not have been enshrined in the first place. I could hear them now:
“See! I told you we shouldn’t have voted Owens into the Hall of Fame!”
And Owens would be letting down two factions who were solidly in his corner: the players who supported his cause and the people who helped him along his journey from childhood.
It would have been neat to see Owens thank his position coach in San Francisco (who would have been his presenter) who believed in him as a 3rd round draft pick out of Tennessee-Chattanooga. It would have been neat to see him thank his mother and grandmother for raising him. It would have been neat to see Owens crack that megawatt smile on stage while fans would chant “T-O! T-O!! T-O!!!”
Hell, I wanted to see Owens pull a Michael Jordan and call out all of his enemies and perceived tormentors. Could you imagine seeing Owens call out the likes of Donovan McNabb, Jeff Garcia and Jason Witten? I would love every moment. Every. Single. Moment.
Instead we’re left with a man who let his bitterness prevent him from the happiness and adulation a Hall of Famer deserves.