Williams may be courageous after all

It’s easy to become philosophical when you think of Ricky Williams.

Oh, I’m sure people will have their theories about Williams. Some accuse him of being a pothead, and I definitely agree that this is widely accepted in the NBA, but it’s beyond that. Others, like the fantasy freaks, call him lazy and selfish. The masses will call him an unknown, who believes that he is beyond football.

He just wants want to do something more than carrying a football. (Sounds a little like unselfish Pat Tillman.)

And he might be a saint for it (not the New Orlean kind).
What’s more upsetting about Williams is his timing. The man literally waited days before camp opened for the Miami Dolphins to notify them. In any other business, and I know players acknowledge the NFL to be a profit-making institution, it is expected to make your employers aware of your retirement at least three months ahead of time.

Ricky didn’t bother. In fact he left us with one of the bigger question marks in modern sports. I suppose, and its rational to do so, that many of us don’t understand how someone could literally walk away from millions of dollars, fame, acclamation, preferential treatment, free meals at the best restaurants in town, fancy cars, beautiful women, the best clothes and, oh yay, a chance to make the NFL Hall of Fame at his rate.

Williams is gifted. But he was always a mystery and a head case. He is diagnosed with social-anxiety disorder. If anyone knows someone with symptoms of the such, there might be some compassion. But it wasn’t football that Williams was fearful of. In fact, the man felt more comfortable on the field in front of 60,000 people than dancing alone on the dance floor.

All we can do is speculate and criticize for the time being. While it might be a complement to Williams that a mass of this kind cares whether or not he has a football tucked into his chest, it’s unfair to call the man a quitter or trader. Williams, spoke to the Miami Herald, saying he is happier now than he’s ever been. He’s felt like he’s always felt compelled to make others happier by playing football. He says the only way he can make others happy is by making himself happy first–something he’s never done.

"I can’t remember ever being this happy," he said. "I was never strong enough to not play football, but I’m strong enough now. I’ve considered everything about this."

And somehow we don’t understand.

We don’t understand that impulse. We can’t comprehend a man that is so disillusioned by a life compelled to other people’s enjoyment. Do I buy it? I’m not sure. I’m not sure that Williams would have come this far in his career without having to think twice about continuing.

Is Williams doing this to duck from the NFL’s drug policy? Don’t know. He’s admitted to smoking marijuana and doesn’t apologize for it. I’m sure a good handful of us know someone who smokes pot and is lazy, uses the stuff to cope with the bores of life, and maybe not known for their work effort. But how many of us know a man who makes a living running through 300-pound lineman? How many of us know the all-time NCAA leading rusher?

I don’t. I don’t know if spectators could call this selfish or lazy. It couldn’t be that maybe marijuana helped him cope with some of the pain and pressure; that would be ludicrous to think so.

And it’s only a suspicious coincidence that mostly running backs are the ones to retire in their prime–to name a few: Barry Sanders, Gale Sales, Robert Smith, Terrell Davis and Jim Brown. Football at its best is punishing, and even more, running back is the most brutal position. It’s kind of like shooting a pinball through bumpers (on steroids).

There were times when Williams was in so much pain that he could barely hold a phone to his ear on Monday morning. Makes sense, since he’s carried the ball more than any one else in the NFL in the last two seasons.

"I’m different, not weird," Williams said in April of 2002.

We know Ricky; that’s why we don’t know if we should admire you…or envy you.