Why, oh why, couldn't the Bills just, for once since the early 90s, be somebody and beat the fucking Jets? I suppose that the Bills' role is something similar to The Trickster character in world myths: a wily and usually dislikable maverick whose sole purpose in existing is to foment chaos. If this is the case, well then, the Bills are doing a bang-up job. They beat the Pats and the Dolphins, two teams that should have crushed them. Then, they go to nearby Toronto and drop a fat turd on the field that the Jets managed just enough leg to kick out of their way to a lackluster victory. If only the Dolphins could have done the same.
Without revisiting last Sunday's debacle too much, I have to ask what sometimes goes through the heads of the offensive play callers. The game opens, your defense forces the Bills three and out, then the O-line and Ricky start running wild on them. It would have been a touchdown-scoring drive that knocked the Bills back on their heels right from the jump. Having it end in an interception as the result of an attempt at trickery was really the beginning of the end, in my mind. As early as it was, it bailed out a Bills defense that was already reeling, and left the Dolphins bereft of 7 points. At this point, it seems to me that this team really needs to bag the trick plays (and I don't consider the Wildcat a "trick play") and stick to the things that they have shown that they can do extremely well: run the ball and let Henne's passing keep the defenses honest. Against Buffalo, they once again seemed to have gone to the passing attack a bit too early, especially against one of the better secondary backfields in the league. It cost them.
'Tis the Season. And by this, I mean, if the Dolphins lose this one, that's it. The AFC Wildcard is too much of a logjam of 6-5, 6-6 (fucking Jets), and 5-6 teams to even think that a 5-7 team will make it. So, if the Phins want the rest of this season to mean anything more than getting reps in before pre-season 2010, they'd better bring everything they have. and by everything, I mean this guy:
Lost in that humiliating loss to the Bills was that it was Ricky's third straight 100-yard game since 2003. The guy is a true freak, in every way and in every positive sense of the word. My familiarity with Rikcy goes back some time, I've always loved him, and I think he's one of the most misunderstood and undeservedly insulted people in pro sports.
As a student at Texas A&M University from 1993 to 1999, I watched Williams run rough-shod over my team year after year. Despite my disgust at watching my Aggies get trounced repeatedly, I couldn't help but love the Longhorns' #34.
He was quick, immensely powerful, but more than that, interviews with him revealed an articulate, thoughtful and sensitive human being. While still a student, some friends of mine at UT let me in on some of Williams' oddities. One friend got on an elevator in which a lone Ricky Williams stood. Upon entering the elevator and having the doors close, rather than face my friend, Williams turned his back and faced the corner like a scolded elementary schooler. This was the first glimmer I had of Ricky's later-clinically-diagnosed social anxiety disorder. Once he broke into the NFL, people chuckled and shook their heads as they got to see more of Ricky's peculiar behavior: the wedding dress ESPN Magazine cover with Mike Ditka and his insistence on wearing his shaded visor helmet during post-game interviews are two of the more famous examples. Most wanted to drop the label of "weirdo" on him. This was just plain laziness. These were the actions of a man trying desperately to meld multiple aspects of his disparate soul - the professional athlete with once-in-a-generation, world-class skills dealing with the brightest of spotlights; and the spiritual, soul-searching free soul who undoubtedly would prefer to be just another traveler in search of a more complete happiness than domination on a football field could provide. And let's not forget that: as much as I love it, football is just a game to be played, watched and analyzed for our enjoyment. I think Ricky always knew this in his heart, but wasn't sure of how to seek out more profound experiences while still being a highly-paid, highly successful pro athlete.
He managed to find some kind of balance for a little over five years. Then, it all caught up to him. He forced himself into the choice between working within the rules of NFL and professional sports culture and becoming a true pilgrim. The latter was the path he took, using marijuana as a source of peace. And this is when the true misunderstandings began. NFL fans and commentators were all too ready to dismiss Ricky as just another pot-head and, I believe, lump him into the category of loutish hoods who didn't have the common sense to get out of their own way and embrace the meal ticket that life had given them in the form of athletic talent. This most certainly was not the case. Yes, Williams was in a struggle, but I always felt that it was a struggle to be respected. Amidst the ganja, yoga, scripture readings, and journeys abroad, Ricky was on a quest more profound than many NFL fans, commentators, and players could comprehend. These were the actions of a very deep individual who had to look in unusual places to find any answers to the questions that he was asking himself. They were the kinds of questions that philosophers have been puzzling over for millenia, with marginal success in finding answers. Ricky Williams began to ask those same questions about himself and existence and learned what all those who asked them before had learned: the road to the answers is far from a straight line.
What Ricky became was a spiritualist and philosopher somewhat trapped in the body of a bad-ass physical specimen who had found himself using his athletic prowess to make a paycheck. Being a person whose most outstanding physical achievements include placing 6th in a high school long jump competition, I can only imagine what such a thing feels like. But I do know what it feels like to ask questions about things that go far beyond our own physical limitations and experiences, and I think I can understand where some of Ricky's previous doubts and confusion arose from. This is why I love what's been happening on the Dolphins since last year began. Seeing Ricky run the ball like it's 2003 again is only a part of it. Since returning from the last suspension, in interviews and at practices, he seems to be a man who has found much of the balance that he went searching for all those years ago. He knows he's not a typical NFL premier running back (which he is, by the way: 11th in the league in rushing only being the starter 2 times) or even a typical pro athlete. Not by a long shot. The difference is that he now seems far more accepting of this, as do his coaches and teammates.
There are still many commentators and egomaniacal talking heads who will either ignore Williams' resurgence, or use people's misconceptions of him to make cheap jokes, just as they did in the past. I choose to take joy in watching a man who took the path not taken, fought his way through the stumbles, scrapes and bruises that come on the road of soul-searching, and seems to have found an admirable synthesis of body and mind, and a form of inner peace. That part of that peace includes him returning to an NFL field and reminding everyone of the physical gifts that won him Doak Walker Awards, the Heisman, and Pro Bowls; well, that's just a bonus for me.I know it's at the expense of Ronnie Brown's unfortunate injury at this point, but the mantra is still the same: Run, Ricky Run!! And leave a trail of battered and torn Patriots in your path, my man.
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