You saw it. You didn't want to see it. You wish you hadn't seen it. But, you saw it. You can't un-see it now. As the saying goes, you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube. Unless, of course, you cut open the tube, scoop up the wad of paste, and well...you get the idea.
It was a stomp. They called the penalty kicking, but it was a blatant, purposeful, violent stomp. Not to mention incredibly stupid. Ndomukong Suh stomped Evan Dietrich-Smith like he was on fire.
In fact, that might have been a more plausible excuse than the one Suh gave.
A la Ricky Bobby, "I thought the invisible flames were going to kill him, so I stomped on his arm to put them out." Works for me. Much more than, "I was losing my balance."
Football is a game built on emotion. Without it, you're nothing as a player. But football is also a game of control. Control the line of scrimmage. Control the ball. Control that emotion, that, when it spills over, becomes a liability. And that's what Suh became on Thanksgiving: a liability.
In the past, most of us fans gave him a pass. "He just plays at 900 miles per hour all the time." "He's too strong for his own good sometimes." "C'mon, he's just playing hard."
No more passes, Ndomukong. This one we can't un-see.
To make matters worse, not only were we watching, everybody was watching. This wasn't your typical, regional audience. Not when you're a Detroit Lion on Thanksgiving. That's the big stage, buddy. Almost as many people watch that game as the Super Bowl.
It's not forgettable. Sure, we might forgive. He'll certainly forgive a chunk of his salary to the league office, and probably a game or two. But now, what we didn't want to believe- what other players have been saying- just might be true.
Suh is a dirty player.
There's no challenging it anymore. He's Albert Haynesworth. He's Bill Romanowski. He's Conrad Dobler.
Come to think of it, he's also pretty arrogant. Remember that fumble recovery he returned for a touchdown his rookie season? He started high-stepping and Santana Moss nearly pulled a Don Beebe. But, the ball didn't come loose and Suh turned around, running backwards, almost in disbelief.
"You can't do that to me. I'm Ndomukong Suh."
What about the Colorado game when he picked off Cody Hawkins and took it in for the score? He spiked the ball into the end zone wall hard enough to cause permanent structural damage. Pretty damned arrogant if you ask me.
He was so cock-sure, so self-important that he thought we'd really believe he was losing his balance and that's why he needed to stamp his foot down like old Buick was underneath and needed crushing. He was confident that we'd believe he knew the cameras were on him and he'd never do anything to jeopardize himself or his team.
Unfortunately, I, for one, am not buying the "he's just misunderstood" argument anymore. I understand it perfectly. Ndomukong Suh really, really, really wants to hurt people. Not just in the run of play, but however and whenever he can. Rules, schmools.
Had he just owned it, I might not feel as strongly. He could have said any number of things. Instead, he tried to excuse it with a lie. And don't get it twisted, he lied through his teeth. That is not acceptable. As a life-long Husker fan, I feel somehow betrayed.
In Nebraska, we call ourselves "The Greatest Fans In College Football." It's etched on Memorial Stadium. We sell out every home game, we give standing ovation to any team that can come in and win among the Sea of Red, and we treat opposing fans with respect. Well, most of us. And it's that quality of character that endears us to others when they visit Lincoln on a Saturday in the fall. To see one of our own commit such an egregious act is, to me, disheartening.
In this era of protecting quarterbacks more than the Crown Jewels, I might be called an enabler. "The game is too soft now," they say. It might well be. You'll get no argument from me on that point. But, never in the history of the game has stomping on another player been considered acceptable. It's ignorant, it's childish, and it's just plain intolerable.
To say I'm no longer a fan of Ndomukong Suh might be a stretch. It might also be accurate.
Right now, I'm hoping for a harsh punishment. Maybe it will teach him a lesson. Maybe he'll clean up his act. Maybe I'll write a column in a few years about how he's changed since this incident.
Here's hope for hoping.
It was a stomp. They called the penalty kicking, but it was a blatant, purposeful, violent stomp. Not to mention incredibly stupid. Ndomukong Suh stomped Evan Dietrich-Smith like he was on fire.
In fact, that might have been a more plausible excuse than the one Suh gave.
A la Ricky Bobby, "I thought the invisible flames were going to kill him, so I stomped on his arm to put them out." Works for me. Much more than, "I was losing my balance."
Football is a game built on emotion. Without it, you're nothing as a player. But football is also a game of control. Control the line of scrimmage. Control the ball. Control that emotion, that, when it spills over, becomes a liability. And that's what Suh became on Thanksgiving: a liability.
In the past, most of us fans gave him a pass. "He just plays at 900 miles per hour all the time." "He's too strong for his own good sometimes." "C'mon, he's just playing hard."
No more passes, Ndomukong. This one we can't un-see.
To make matters worse, not only were we watching, everybody was watching. This wasn't your typical, regional audience. Not when you're a Detroit Lion on Thanksgiving. That's the big stage, buddy. Almost as many people watch that game as the Super Bowl.
It's not forgettable. Sure, we might forgive. He'll certainly forgive a chunk of his salary to the league office, and probably a game or two. But now, what we didn't want to believe- what other players have been saying- just might be true.
Suh is a dirty player.
There's no challenging it anymore. He's Albert Haynesworth. He's Bill Romanowski. He's Conrad Dobler.
Come to think of it, he's also pretty arrogant. Remember that fumble recovery he returned for a touchdown his rookie season? He started high-stepping and Santana Moss nearly pulled a Don Beebe. But, the ball didn't come loose and Suh turned around, running backwards, almost in disbelief.
"You can't do that to me. I'm Ndomukong Suh."
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| Does this look off balance? |
He was so cock-sure, so self-important that he thought we'd really believe he was losing his balance and that's why he needed to stamp his foot down like old Buick was underneath and needed crushing. He was confident that we'd believe he knew the cameras were on him and he'd never do anything to jeopardize himself or his team.
Unfortunately, I, for one, am not buying the "he's just misunderstood" argument anymore. I understand it perfectly. Ndomukong Suh really, really, really wants to hurt people. Not just in the run of play, but however and whenever he can. Rules, schmools.
Had he just owned it, I might not feel as strongly. He could have said any number of things. Instead, he tried to excuse it with a lie. And don't get it twisted, he lied through his teeth. That is not acceptable. As a life-long Husker fan, I feel somehow betrayed.
In Nebraska, we call ourselves "The Greatest Fans In College Football." It's etched on Memorial Stadium. We sell out every home game, we give standing ovation to any team that can come in and win among the Sea of Red, and we treat opposing fans with respect. Well, most of us. And it's that quality of character that endears us to others when they visit Lincoln on a Saturday in the fall. To see one of our own commit such an egregious act is, to me, disheartening.
In this era of protecting quarterbacks more than the Crown Jewels, I might be called an enabler. "The game is too soft now," they say. It might well be. You'll get no argument from me on that point. But, never in the history of the game has stomping on another player been considered acceptable. It's ignorant, it's childish, and it's just plain intolerable.
To say I'm no longer a fan of Ndomukong Suh might be a stretch. It might also be accurate.
Right now, I'm hoping for a harsh punishment. Maybe it will teach him a lesson. Maybe he'll clean up his act. Maybe I'll write a column in a few years about how he's changed since this incident.
Here's hope for hoping.
