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Falcons QB
Michael Vick
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Only two years ago, Ricky Williams represented a draft unto himself. Count the
selections — a first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh pick in 1999 and a
first and third in 2000, all deeded by Mike Ditka to Washington as he positioned the
Saints to take the Heisman Award winner.
Now see Williams, which is a pretty good trick. The Saints, in the days preceding this
year’s draft, hadn’t seen him. Oh, they wanted to, but Williams, for reasons of
his own choosing, was staying away from an offseason conditioning program and making vague
suggestions that he might resume playing professional baseball.
In the draft, the New Orleans club did the only thing it could. It took another running
back, Deuce McAllister of Mississippi, although in some precincts there are grave
reservations concerning McAllister because of his history of injuries.
While this was happening, another team, Atlanta, was packaging three draft selections
and a player and dispatching them to San Diego for the overall No. 1 choice that would
become Michael Vick.
I thought of Williams, who by the time you read this may no longer be associated with
the Saints.
I also thought of Herschel Walker.
And I concluded that it must be tremendously burdensome for a player to pursue a
livelihood in the NFL after having a club invest so much in him.
Williams has not been able to bear up under these pressures. Walker couldn’t
either. Remember, what Ditka surrendered for Williams was a pittance compared to what
Minnesota assigned to Dallas in October ’89 for Walker: five players, six conditional
draft selections and a first-round choice in ’92. With the picks, the Cowboys were
able to identify such worthies as Emmitt Smith, Russell Maryland and Darren Woodson.
Walker did very little with the Vikings, moved on to the Eagles and Giants, and in a
note of irony, concluded his career in Dallas, where he also did very little.
We shall see about Vick.
Judgments of his future differ startlingly. His draft availability even created a
considerable fuss in San Diego, where I live. San Diego, you should know, doesn’t get
stirred up by much. The sun’s out, and the surf’s up. Kick back, pal. This is
La-La Land.
The town, though, got about as riled up as it is going to get concerning whether the
Chargers should tap Vick.
It was a touchy matter for a lot of guys, including John Butler, in his first year as
general manager, and Mike Riley, in what might be his last year as coach unless he starts
winning. Riley was 1-15 a year ago, which does not give a man a sense of security.
Butler, I thought, proceeded timidly. One has to dare to be great.
The bold move — hell, to me, the only move — would have been to embrace Vick,
to accept that he is not going to be serviceable as a quarterback for a time, and to
exercise patience.
Hey, anybody who has viewed Vick would be aware that here is an exceptional athlete. He
is more than that. He could be a messiah. Compared to him, everybody else in the draft
were acolytes. When a team has an opportunity to claim a quarterback of his potential, it
must act.
Damn the cost.
Only the Chargers flinched, and they got lucky. They came out of the draft with
arguably the ranking running back and passer, LaDainian Tomlinson and Drew Brees.
What an opportunity Vick has in Atlanta! He’s viewed as the potential savior of a
city starved for winning football. Atlanta is his for the taking.
On the day they claimed Vick, the Falcons had to keep their ticket office open for a
couple of additional hours. At a draft-day function they held, 7,000 people showed up.
"Without Vick, there would have been about seven," said an Atlanta
acquaintance of mine.
Dan Reeves must be credited with a coup. In trading up from No. 5 to No. 1, he had to
sacrifice only a third-round selection in 2001 and a second-round choice in 2002, plus
WR-KR Tim Dwight. For Williams, Ditka gave up more than twice as much, and Ditka was
dealing for a running back, not a quarterback.
Let me put this Vick matter in terms of the Chargers’ history. The AFL and the NFL
(I always put the AFL first) began a common draft in 1967. In the succeeding 33 years, the
San Diego club never held the first selection. This year, it did, and there was a possibly
uncommon quarterback out there, and the Chargers considered him and said sorry, no.
I’m aghast.
Jerry Magee has covered pro football for the San Diego Union-Tribune since 1961 and for
PFW since its inception in 1967 |
