Donovan McNabb is among the most polarizing figures the sports world has seen in the past decade. The Washington Redskins quarterback might also be the most unwilling lightning rod for controversy ever seen among athletes who have been caught in the crosshairs of the spotlight’s blinding glare.
But, like it or not, and regardless of what measures he takes to scramble away from the rush, the trouble inevitably finds McNabb. It has been that way ever since Philadelphia Eagles fans booed lustily when the club selected him over Ricky Williams in the 1999 draft, and it continued with a haymaker from Bernard Hopkins last week.
Evidently, the Philadelphia-based boxer decided the best way to warm up for his Saturday light heavyweight title bout with Jean Pascal was to spar a few rounds with his favorite punching bag – McNabb.
There seems no real reason for this semi-annual verbal assault on the quarterback who has long since left Philadelphia – it’s not as if they have a history of differences – other than Hopkins has long enjoyed targeted, long-winded rants and he, like many others, find McNabb to have an irresistible bulls-eye on his chest.
So instead of talking about what it will take to win the boxing match, Hopkins reiterated his long-held belief that McNabb, because of his middle-class background and college degree, wasn’t quite as black as the boxer, and carries nowhere near the street cred. He went on to call the football player “soft” along with a handful of other derogatory terms.
Not surprisingly for McNabb, the Hopkins flap wasn’t even the quarterback’s first controversy of the week. He started grabbing headlines a few days earlier amid reports that part of his conflict with Redskins coach Mike Shanahan stemmed from McNabb’s refusal to wear an arm band that displayed a sampling of the team’s plays. Apparently, he took the suggestion like an eighth-grader being told to wear a retainer to the school dance – he found a way to “accidentally” leave it behind.
The week’s events made me ponder a thought I’ve often had regarding McNabb: What did he ever do to anybody to bring this about? The question comes not purely from a place of sympathy, although I do feel for the guy sometimes, but because I am curious about the answer.
McNabb’s plight makes me think about my own, and consider a question we’ve probably all had at one time or another. It’s the one about how much of our destiny we control, how much is out of our hands, and how we go about recognizing the difference. In other words, do all these things just happen to McNabb, or does he happen to them?
It’s likely a little of both, though McNabb is the antithesis of antagonists like Terrell Owens, another noted McNabb basher who goes out of his way to stir controversy. Perhaps the closest McNabb has come to inviting trouble is when he went on HBO a few years back to share his view that black quarterbacks were held to a higher standard than their white counterparts.
Parts of what he said had some merit, but regardless of where you stand on his comments, the backlash from them far outweighed the impact his commentary. People have said worse and been punished less. Rush Limbaugh lost his gig as an NFL analyst for suggesting media and fans invent ways to deify black quarterbacks because we want so badly for one to succeed.
Looking for a relevant comparison, Warren Moon was also an intelligent, extremely successful black quarterback who played professional football for a long time. I followed his career and don’t remember Moon being the merciless target of potshots from former teammates, coaches, media members or light heavyweight boxers.
Most football fans are aware of McNabb’s on-field accomplishments: five NFC championship games, one Super Bowl appearance, one accusation from T.O. that he barfed in the huddle and generally wussed out during the 2-minute drill in the Super Bowl.
From an observer’s perspective, watching McNabb can be maddening. When he’s at the top of his game, there are few better, and he possesses a lethal combination of arm strength and athleticism. When he’s at his worst, he looks disinterested and oblivious, and you can practically see the train wreck coming when he walks right into oncoming defenders with the football dangling at his hip.
The 34-year-old father of four appeared past his prime most of last season, and things went from bad to worse when he got benched in favor of Rex Grossman. I’d like to see McNabb fade quietly into the twilight of his career and retirement, but history suggests someone like Hopkins will be waiting to send him off with one last uppercut.