Paul Daugherty, My Hero

I sat down in the breakroom today and read the sports section. I usually read the Local section, because it's the kind of reality you can't find in a novel, but today I stumbled upon the most fantastic piece of journalism and I feel the need to share it. Trust me, you'll love it:

Don't waste tears on Clarett
This case isn't sad, it's simply pathetic
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY | ENQUIRER STAFF WRITER

Let's make something clear about what has become of Maurice Clarett: It is not sad. Orphans are sad. Adolescent cancer patients are sad. "Old Yeller" was sad. The next scribe or TV Head to pair "sad" (or, worse, "tragic") and "Maurice Clarett" should be sentenced to life among the refugees in Darfur.

I could think of lots of words to describe what has become of Maurice Clarett. Sad isn't among them. Sad isn't even in the same dictionary. How about arrogant, stupid, pathetic, delusional and blind?

We toss around words like "great" and "tragic" in sports as if they were paper airplanes. Carson Palmer soon might become a "great" quarterback, but what happened to him in January wasn't "tragic." The last full-blown tragedy in sports occurred at the Munich Olympics 34 years ago. What happened to Palmer was "unfortunate."

Maurice Clarett was given a body and a talent half the world wants. The other half dreams of playing soccer for a living. As recently as a year ago, Clarett had a menagerie of hangers-on a mile wide and deep, all wanting to befriend him, even if only for the dollars they saw down the line.

Here's something sad: the way we worship athletes, regardless of their shortcomings away from the arena. The way we still believe, after so much evidence to the contrary, that because they can play a game, they are people worth emulating, or at the very least apologizing for.

Rappers in Los Angeles took in Clarett and enabled him with fine cars and a house on the beach. They got him a trainer, but Clarett quit the guy quickly, because the guy made him work.

Clarett moved to Phoenix and hooked up with David Boston's trainer. The NFL has suspended Boston for steroid use.

No fear. Clarett quit that guy, too. And because Denver Broncos coach Mike Shanahan believes his system creates great running backs, he drafted Clarett in the third round of the 2005 NFL draft. It was an amazing break for someone who played not one full season of college ball.

A few weeks into camp, Clarett was demanding that the Broncos' strength coach of 11 years be fired. When the Broncos, for some crazy reason, opted not to do that, Clarett demanded a trade.

He hadn't even signed a contract.

Clarett was so delusional, he asked that a Pro Bowl clause be inserted in his deal. The Broncos cut him before he ever carried the ball in the preseason.

This is sad?

Clarett knocked around after that, doing what he does, which is a lot of nothing. And, oh yeah, getting accused of robbing two people at gunpoint in an alley behind a bar in Columbus.

Meanwhile, Clarett had a baby with his girlfriend in July. Here's a great idea: When you're broke and unemployed and can't even take care of yourself, have a child with your girlfriend.

On Wednesday in the middle of the night, police stopped Clarett after a chase. He was unruly, which isn't sad, but rather stupid. The cops Tasered him, which didn't work because he was wearing a bulletproof vest. In Clarett's vehicle were three handguns, a hatchet, an assault rifle and half a bottle of vodka. Just your average, everyday cargo for a responsible adult with a 3-week-old child.

Oh, the tragedy.

Clarett's bond was set at $5 million. Probably, his good friends in Los Angeles won't be wiring him the money.

You could see Clarett's saga as the ultimate cautionary tale. But by now, cautionary tales such as his have become cliche'. As cliche' as those who find them "sad."

"I was a person who was scheduled to make millions," Clarett told ESPN.com.

Uh, Maurice: No one is "scheduled" to make anything. There is no ETA on wealth. The entitlement train doesn't roll in, right on time, bearing your personal Brink's truck. You make your own way.

This is something Clarett never understood. This is not sad. This is immensely arrogant and foolish.

So let's clear Maurice Clarett from the sadness docket, shall we? That court is crowded enough without him.