NFL POINDEXTER:
YOU WANT THE ROCK?

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You want the rock? Let's talk about that.

So Terrell Owens wants the rock.

After the Cowboys' loss to the Redskins last Sunday, Owens was upset with having caught just seven balls. How many times he was thrown to, or supposed to be thrown to? Irrelevant. No game plan is ever carried out the way it's drawn up.

You see, Tony Romo is still growing as a quarterback and as a leader. Think Favre in '92. He wasn't that much different from the current edition, except when the Favre of today throws to a guy running an out route in coverage designed to take away the out route, he's aware of the risk. Romo isn't always aware. And Romo is still prone to fundamental gaffes involving basic skills like ball handling. Meanwhile, as Romo matures, Owens is THE voice of the Cowboys.

Can a team have more than one voice? Absolutely. The more pertinent question is whether or not being that singular voice—in a "if it's good for me, it's good for the team" sense—makes a guy a bad teammate. Houston Texans receivers coach Larry Kirksey has been coaching receivers for the past 12 years. Says Kirksey, "You want a team-oriented guy. That means doing the dirty work like blocking and running routes in the middle of the field." But does that mean toiling in silence? Not necessarily. "You want a guy who wants the ball at the end of the game," Kirksey says. "All the great ones do."

You can't tell me an individual involved in a team pursuit doesn't have his own desires and goals, and that once assembled—in the meeting room, the locker room, on the field—that individual kills his own spirit so that his team may have life. No way. The individual's voice may be suppressed for fear of consequences (we'll get to that), but the spirit lives.

Back to T.O. He wasn't always the histrionic force that we know him to be today. But his evolution isn't unique. Jerry Rice wasn't always the dignified ambassador of the league that he was in his twilight years. That role came with time. I recall a game against Atlanta on a Monday night when Rice took exception at being ignored in the offense. After a scoring drive, he came to the sideline and turned over a table of Gatorade. The message to his team was clear: "I ain't no decoy!"

In his six years as the Niners' receiver coach, Larry Kirksey worked with both Owens and Rice. Of course this was during Owens' not-so-precocious youth. Kirksey says Owens didn¹t have much to say back then. "Later on, after he had some success that all changed," he says.

Kirksey has no quarrel with a hungry receiver. "I remember a game where Jerry ran a reverse, scored a touchdown, scored a 2-point conversion," Kirksey says. "But after the game he still wasn't happy. He felt like he could have done more." Kirksey understands: "Look, these guys are driven to perform," he says. "It's like they want to fulfill their destiny."

The (honest) pursuit of one's destiny is admirable. But when your narrative includes words like "sacrifice" and "team" and you insist on taking ownership of your role, problems arise. Owens picked his spot after the first loss for a Dallas team that will have very few losses this season.

Former New Orleans receiver Joe Horn chose Hurricane Katrina to define, or more accurately, redefine his career. On September 1, 2005, after the Saints played the Raiders in their final preseason game, Horn added substance to his legacy—an inconclusive legacy built on four Pro Bowls and the questionable use of a cell phone. But when Horn told everyone in earshot that the team shouldn't have played a meaningless preseason game while its fans were in distress, his Team Player status was solidified. Horn claimed he spoke for the entire team, and since no one objected, he was right. It was a risky move though. Athletes rarely sound off on things outside their own universe. Horn did. After the game in Oakland, the Saints returned to Louisiana and were given time off and allowed to visit people in shelters throughout the southeast.

Eventually that good will ran its course. After the Saints' miraculous 2006 season, Horn met the business side of things when the Saints released him. He signed with the Falcons. Following a 27-catch season and coach Bobby Petrino's sudden exodus, change was afoot in Atlanta. After skipping voluntary offseason activities (if you're not the franchise player, this usually seals one's fate) Horn asked to be traded. There were no takers and he was released before the season.

These days Horn lives in New Orleans where he divides his time between the gym, the golf course and watching his three boys play ball. He's still waiting on a call and still speaks in a clear voice. "If this was about money, I wouldn't take any phone calls," he says. "I would just watch my boys play ball and collect my $160,000 a week. But I'm 36 and I want to win a Super Bowl. I want everybody to know that." The Seahawks and Jaguars have a need for a veteran receiver, but Horn's agent has had only one real conversation—and that was with the Titans. For the time being, Horn remains an NFL expatriate.

With T.O. steadying himself behind his latest pulpit, I thought Horn would be a source of enlightenment on the role of the boisterous receiver. "It's the competitor that makes him say those things," he says. "His teammates can't get mad at him for saying what he said. They know who he is. They know his resume. Plus he backs up what he says."

But Horn also suggests caution. "You have to be careful because other guys need opportunities too," says Horn. "He can't win by himself. Patrick Crayton also needs the rock."

Horn says that when deciding whether or not Owens, or anyone else for that matter, is a team player, you should look beyond the guys with the clipboards. "Coaches talk to each other," he says. "And some of them have vendettas. If you really want to know about a person, ask guys in the locker room."

So I tried. I tried to speak to Marques Colston, but he passed. I think I know why. Horn and the Saints didn't part on the best of terms. I suspect Colston didn't want to get involved in a conversation that potentially involved a former teammate and Colston's current employer. Can't say I blame him.

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut.

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