When it comes to predictions, I usually just like shaking the 8-ball and leaving it at that. I normally don’t like to brag, point fingers or show off. It makes me feel conceited, arrogant and egotistical. It shines the spotlight on the Serm, which should shine on its own, and shouts “Look at me!” But sometimes blowing your own horn is necessary and warranted, and this is one of those times.
I pulled a pretty good Miss Cleo a couple of months ago when I confidently predicted that, at 6-0, the Pam and Tommy love affair that was the Philadelphia Eagles and Terrell Owens would fall to pieces. Everything looked so promising for the Philly faithful. Owens and Donovan McNabb were the sports version of Bennifer. Nothing could come between them and it looked to be a safe bet that the eagle would land in Jacksonville, representing the NFC in the Super Bowl.
Ahh, but how quickly have the Eagles lost their wings. How did I know this would happen? Simple. It’s the undeniable T.O. factor. The anti-King Midas himself, where everything he touches turns from riches to rags. He did it in San Francisco when he sucked and now he’s doing it in Philly when he’s good. Either way, it should be an assumed fact that he will ruin even the best relationship.
When it comes to Terrell Owens, it’s all T.O., all the time. He doesn’t get enough balls thrown his way. He doesn’t get enough respect. He doesn’t get the money he deserves. Pick your poison. Something always goes wrong.
This time it’s the money. It’s the fact that Owens is not satisfied with his seven-year, $49 million dollar deal. The money complaint itself is not what rubs me the wrong way, it’s the way Terrell has gone about becoming the biggest circus outside of Ringling Brothers.
This isn’t some poor deal the man was duped into coming out of Tennessee-Chattanooga. He signed it last year, after his trade from the 49ers. He was already a premier wide receiver in the NFL and if he really felt the way he does he should have fought for more money then, not now. Just because he switched agents after he signed his last contract does not mean he is entitled to switch contracts as well. Can’t live on seven million a year? Tough. I can’t live on Leo’s seven days a week, but I make it work.
The problem with T.O. is that he thinks he is the only man in the world who knows how to catch a football and get into the end zone. He thinks the Eagles need to give him more money and succumb to his preseason sabotage. Maybe he wasn’t too good in school, but lest we forget the Eagles made it to three championship games without him. There are other premier receivers out there, already established or ones waiting to be found who are loyal to their team and its fans, and not to themselves.
It’s a shame that someone who blossomed under the tutelage of Jerry Rice in no way resembles the greatest football player ever to play the game. Rice never caused a distraction for the 49ers, and if he had a beef with anyone he kept it in house, the way it should be done. The way Owens and his agent, Drew Rosenhaus, are going about things, Pope John Paul II could rise from the dead at Pat’s Steaks and no one in Philly would know.
From the looks of things, Owens’ beef has about as much credibility as Mike Tyson’s porn career. I’m not saying that I was right, but let’s face it. I was right. And if anyone ever needs their palm read come find me. I’ll be more than happy to be right again.
