LaTunaNostra
He Made the Difference
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Posted on Sat, Jun. 25, 2005
Fickle Dolfans will boo, then forgive Ricky
Now that Ricky Williams is poised to be a Dolphin again and supposedly back in South Florida for good -- ''for good'' in this case presumes both productivity and duration -- it is time to address the controversial, polarizing aspect of his imminent return.
Human nature mandates that fans' response to Williams' unretirement will fall into two distinct categories.
Many Dolfans will welcome Ricky back as a sort of wayward son who strayed from the family (globetrotting, smoking dope, living in hostels . . . did we mention smoking dope?) but has returned to the fold after finding maturity and humility in the course of ``finding himself.''
These conciliatory fans will be about evenly split between those who are just naturally benevolent and forgiving, and those driven pragmatically, those whose embarrassment over a 4-12 season is so profound they would welcome Michael Jackson onto the roster if his 40 time were right.
However, many other Dolfans -- most? -- will mark Ricky's return by booing loudly, burning No. 34 jerseys in effigy, waving torches and pitchforks, circulating petitions, and misspelling traitor with an ''e'' on handmade signs to be confiscated by stadium personnel.
This passionate, principled vitriol toward Williams surely will last for as long as he plays in Miami, or until he does something really great like bust a 43-yard TD run, whichever comes first.
Williams will outrun the booing at precisely the same speed he outruns defenders.
You'll boo Ricky at first, because it feels right -- because he deserves that aural blast of punishment for running out on the team and your hopes. For putting the Fish in selfish. But then you'll cheer him, because it feels good. And you know it.
Sports fans may be the most fickle subset of human beings on Earth, and it will be amusing to see that in action when Ricky Redux unfolds next month.
Same with his teammates. Any lingering ill will against Williams will dissipate if his renewed commitment is evident, his yards pile up and the team wins. (In the sports chemistry lab, winning is the formula that produces a happy vibe, not vice-versa. Similarly, losing has turned more locker rooms sour than any two-legged cancers).
With Williams' comeback assured to be one of the bigger sporting soap operas in South Florida history, what a delightful circus the buildup to this 40th Dolphins season shall be! Not in memory, if ever, has Miami's coming NFL training camp yielded so much various intrigue.
The return of Williams alone would merit three rings, a clown and bears in tutus dancing to calliope, but that's just the start.
MANY SUBPLOTS
Add a highly anticipated new head coach in Nick Saban. Is he the pro game's next great genius leader? While we find out how, acknowledge that he arrives a heavyweight. He may flatline on charisma, but his assignment is to win, not grin.
Add a quarterback controversy in journeyman Gus Frerotte vs. shaky incumbent A.J. Feeley. They're 1 and 1A, but is either better than C or C+? Feeley must prove he is worth that second-round pick. Frerotte must accomplish something so he's no longer best-known for being concussed banging his head on a wall to celebrate a TD.
Add the club's highest draft pick since birth-year 1966 in running back Ronnie Brown. Backs drafted No. 2 overall are supposed to be impact stars, right now. Is Brown that good? Good enough to make Williams' carnival return superfluous?
Add the unusualness of a proud, winning franchise coming off the ignominy of a Bengalesque 4-12 season. The last worse Dolphin record was 3-10-1 in 1969. We were still in Vietnam when last the club was trying to claw up from this kind of depth.
The Return of Ricky looms over all of it, of course.
After a year's odyssey in which Williams submarined the Dolphins, lived in a tent in Australia, studied holistic healing in California and learned yoga in India, among other soul-searching endeavors while the team he left behind crumbled . . . he's ba-aack.
Resentment in and outside the locker room may be unavoidable, but there are ways to lessen it.
P.R. HELP FOR RICKY
What Ricky needs most right now is a public-relations makeover. We're here for you, Rick. Sit down, relax, and prepare to emerge with a whole new persona on today's episode of, Aqua Eye For the Traitor Guy.
See, you thought Williams was being selfish to abandon the team and go smoke dope with the koala bears.
No.
It was all an intricately orchestrated plan that may now be revealed.
Williams knew his leaving would produce a year of losses and chaos so great the franchise would quake at its foundation, and that only then would broad healing begin.
He was willing to make that sacrifice, risking his own reputation, shouldering every sling, bearing every arrow, for the larger good and future of the club.
Brilliantly, Williams deduced that only a terrible season in his wake could end the torpor and eradicate the lethargic administration of unpopular coach Dave Wannstedt and general manager Rick Spielman.
There was no other way to do it.
Picture Williams in the remote Outback, nodding knowingly to himself, content he had succeeded in his calculated, one-man master plan.
Even as fans cursed his name, Ricky smiled serenely as, far away, the Dolphins were reaping the reward of his sacrifice, bagging a highly coveted new coach and then the highest draft pick in decades.
Only then, only now, with the windfall of his ultimate selflessness in place, was the man free to rejoin the team whose revitalization he had bravely authored.
Ricky Williams, American hero.
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/sports/11983668.htm
Fickle Dolfans will boo, then forgive Ricky
Now that Ricky Williams is poised to be a Dolphin again and supposedly back in South Florida for good -- ''for good'' in this case presumes both productivity and duration -- it is time to address the controversial, polarizing aspect of his imminent return.
Human nature mandates that fans' response to Williams' unretirement will fall into two distinct categories.
Many Dolfans will welcome Ricky back as a sort of wayward son who strayed from the family (globetrotting, smoking dope, living in hostels . . . did we mention smoking dope?) but has returned to the fold after finding maturity and humility in the course of ``finding himself.''
These conciliatory fans will be about evenly split between those who are just naturally benevolent and forgiving, and those driven pragmatically, those whose embarrassment over a 4-12 season is so profound they would welcome Michael Jackson onto the roster if his 40 time were right.
However, many other Dolfans -- most? -- will mark Ricky's return by booing loudly, burning No. 34 jerseys in effigy, waving torches and pitchforks, circulating petitions, and misspelling traitor with an ''e'' on handmade signs to be confiscated by stadium personnel.
This passionate, principled vitriol toward Williams surely will last for as long as he plays in Miami, or until he does something really great like bust a 43-yard TD run, whichever comes first.
Williams will outrun the booing at precisely the same speed he outruns defenders.
You'll boo Ricky at first, because it feels right -- because he deserves that aural blast of punishment for running out on the team and your hopes. For putting the Fish in selfish. But then you'll cheer him, because it feels good. And you know it.
Sports fans may be the most fickle subset of human beings on Earth, and it will be amusing to see that in action when Ricky Redux unfolds next month.
Same with his teammates. Any lingering ill will against Williams will dissipate if his renewed commitment is evident, his yards pile up and the team wins. (In the sports chemistry lab, winning is the formula that produces a happy vibe, not vice-versa. Similarly, losing has turned more locker rooms sour than any two-legged cancers).
With Williams' comeback assured to be one of the bigger sporting soap operas in South Florida history, what a delightful circus the buildup to this 40th Dolphins season shall be! Not in memory, if ever, has Miami's coming NFL training camp yielded so much various intrigue.
The return of Williams alone would merit three rings, a clown and bears in tutus dancing to calliope, but that's just the start.
MANY SUBPLOTS
Add a highly anticipated new head coach in Nick Saban. Is he the pro game's next great genius leader? While we find out how, acknowledge that he arrives a heavyweight. He may flatline on charisma, but his assignment is to win, not grin.
Add a quarterback controversy in journeyman Gus Frerotte vs. shaky incumbent A.J. Feeley. They're 1 and 1A, but is either better than C or C+? Feeley must prove he is worth that second-round pick. Frerotte must accomplish something so he's no longer best-known for being concussed banging his head on a wall to celebrate a TD.
Add the club's highest draft pick since birth-year 1966 in running back Ronnie Brown. Backs drafted No. 2 overall are supposed to be impact stars, right now. Is Brown that good? Good enough to make Williams' carnival return superfluous?
Add the unusualness of a proud, winning franchise coming off the ignominy of a Bengalesque 4-12 season. The last worse Dolphin record was 3-10-1 in 1969. We were still in Vietnam when last the club was trying to claw up from this kind of depth.
The Return of Ricky looms over all of it, of course.
After a year's odyssey in which Williams submarined the Dolphins, lived in a tent in Australia, studied holistic healing in California and learned yoga in India, among other soul-searching endeavors while the team he left behind crumbled . . . he's ba-aack.
Resentment in and outside the locker room may be unavoidable, but there are ways to lessen it.
P.R. HELP FOR RICKY
What Ricky needs most right now is a public-relations makeover. We're here for you, Rick. Sit down, relax, and prepare to emerge with a whole new persona on today's episode of, Aqua Eye For the Traitor Guy.
See, you thought Williams was being selfish to abandon the team and go smoke dope with the koala bears.
No.
It was all an intricately orchestrated plan that may now be revealed.
Williams knew his leaving would produce a year of losses and chaos so great the franchise would quake at its foundation, and that only then would broad healing begin.
He was willing to make that sacrifice, risking his own reputation, shouldering every sling, bearing every arrow, for the larger good and future of the club.
Brilliantly, Williams deduced that only a terrible season in his wake could end the torpor and eradicate the lethargic administration of unpopular coach Dave Wannstedt and general manager Rick Spielman.
There was no other way to do it.
Picture Williams in the remote Outback, nodding knowingly to himself, content he had succeeded in his calculated, one-man master plan.
Even as fans cursed his name, Ricky smiled serenely as, far away, the Dolphins were reaping the reward of his sacrifice, bagging a highly coveted new coach and then the highest draft pick in decades.
Only then, only now, with the windfall of his ultimate selflessness in place, was the man free to rejoin the team whose revitalization he had bravely authored.
Ricky Williams, American hero.
http://www.miami.com/mld/miamiherald/sports/11983668.htm