Former Tennessee Titans wide receiver Randy Moss announced via his agent yesterday that after 13 seasons he has retired from the NFL. Or you could perhaps say that no teams wanted to bother with the 34-year old pain in the ass anymore. Either way, one of the most exciting, explosive, and maddeningly arrogant athletes to ever play pro football is done.
Now the poets of the printed word can spend the next few months celebrating or denigrating the man who once gloriously disgusted Joe Buck. Peter King called him a first ballot Hall-of-Famer while Michael Rosenberg asks the standard questions. Mike Florio gave Moss the clap. I mean, 10 claps. And you can be sure that the rest of the cliche clan will be close behind.
Too bad it’s all premature.
If Moss is truly, sincerely, hand-to-a-non-denominational-god retired then I will write the most beautiful, elaborate tribute to the guy who made Daunte Culpepper a star. But I don’t think I’ll be pulling at your heartstrings with inspiring tales of his rookie year, nor will I regale you with the fables of his 23-touchdown season any time soon.
With all due respect to Terrell Owens, Chad Ochocinco, and Brandon Marshall, there will never be another diva wide receiver like Moss, and we’re suckers if we think this isn’t part of his classic “You need me more than I need you” routine.
In a few months, teams like the Cincinnati Bengals, Miami Dolphins, Washington Redskins, Seattle Seahawks, Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and maybe even the Minnesota Vikings will realize they desperately need a playmaker receiver, and they’ll all kick the tires on Moss. Of course he’ll tell them all to f*ck off, because he won’t play for another loser.
But then the Dallas Cowboys will call. The Arizona Cardinals will call. The St. Louis Rams, too. Maybe even the New York Jets and New England Patriots will call. And Moss is going to whisper, “Straight cash, homie.”