Leaving the building

Elvis is finally calling it quits.

Not one moment too soon as far as I’m concerned. In the last year or so, I’ve had no emotional attachment to the quarterback of too-few-vowels. He left Arrowhead Stadium to a chorus of “screw you’s” and rightfully so. Finally, he is letting the much-maligned Ravens find a real QB. Or more to the point…they’re letting him move on. I don’t care about the Ravens. And I haven’t cared about Elvis for many months now. I’m just glad he’s leaving. He is a man who was in the game for much too long and never really went anywhere important. And the places he went, he went on other people’s tackling sleds.

Ten years in the big show, coming off a pro-bowl season…Elvis has left the building.

I wonder if five years ago, Elvis looked at himself in the mirror (wondering what it would’ve been like to be The King) and asked himself, “King, should I be doing something else with my life? Should I realize that I am going to spend the rest of my career fighting criticism, playing the game, and going nowhere? I’m in a slump now. Should I realize that some people–even when they make it to the show–don’t ever really make it?”

I’m sure Elvis had a little fantasy somewhere inside that no-sideburned head of his. Maybe underneath that helmet was the think-noodle of a bluegrass musician. Or a prize-winning chef. Or a Bahamian Resort manager. But he jumped on the bus and rode it to the NFL. That bus is a hard one off of which to jump.

Goodbye, Elvis.

Look at it this way: At least you aren’t a TV reporter.