It shouldn't have been a surprise to anyone that Dr. Mark Myerson refused to clear Terrell Owens to play in the Super Bowl next week.
If Myerson, who performed surgery on Owens' ankle last month, had given approval for the Philadelphia Eagles' receiver to play, the very next sound would have been a thud made by the good doctor being dropped — most likely from a great height onto his head — by his malpractice insurance carrier.
"He has great risk in clearing Terrell to play and no reward," said Eagles' head trainer Rick Burkholder, in an Associated Press story. "We think there's some risk and we think there's great reward, so right now we're going to progress with his rehab."
That's easy for Burkholder to say. He and the Eagles aren't taking the biggest risk. Owens is the one who, at least in Myerson's justifiably cautious estimation, stands to jeopardize his career by aggravating the broken ankle he sustained last month.
Of course, that begs the question of how much career T.O. has left anyway. Perhaps because of his brashness, perhaps because of his end zone antics — which have been largely absent from his repertoire this year — fans tend think of Owens as an angry young man.
But he's actually 31 and a nine-year NFL veteran with a lot more career in his rear-view mirror than outside his front windshield.
This will be Owens' first chance to play in the Super Bowl. If his career pattern holds up, he won't get another. If that sounds harsh, remember Dan Marino, who started for the Dolphins in the big game as a second-year pro, and never got there again, even though he played for 16 more seasons.
Individual greatness doesn't come with a guarantee that a talented player will appear in the sport's biggest spectacle.
At least Marino got there once. There is a long list of great players of great players — including Ozzie Newsome, Dan Fouts, and Kellen Winslow — who never played in the Super Bowl.
Meanwhile, Owens' teammates next Sunday will include a guy named Jeff Thomason. There's no need to apologize for not knowing the name. He was a late addition to the Eagles' Super Bowl roster, replacing tight end Chad Lewis, who was injured in the NFC Championship game.
Last week, he was working in construction. Next week, he'll be working in construction.
But on Sunday, he'll be playing in his third Super Bowl. Thomason, who had a nine-year NFL career ending in 2002, appeared in the big game twice while he was with the Green Bay Packers.
Owens has the final decision in this matter. And he knows the risks. But he also knows this is his first — and quite likely, only — chance to play in the Super Bowl.
The risks are actually less than a lot of observers are making them out to be. Myerson, at least, has a good reason for not giving Owens the go-ahead. If the doctor clears Owens and the worst-case scenario comes to pass, it stands to cost Myerson, in terms of both cash and reputation.
But that's not terribly likely. This isn't 1974, when severe shoulder injuries usually meant the end of a pitcher's career, or even 1984, when knee blowouts routinely left football players a shadow of their former selves.
The age of Steve Austin is here, which is fitting, considering how many professional athletes are "Six Million Dollar (and more) Men." The top orthopedic doctors can rebuild broken athletes.
Doctors like Myerson don't, of course, use cyborg parts like they did in the 1970s science fiction TV show. They use scalpels, thread, Gore-Tex and cadaver leftovers. But the result — better, stronger, faster — is pretty much the same.
Short of getting his legs blown off by an Al Qaida trip line planted in the tunnel leading to the field, there's very little Owens could do to aggravate his injury so badly that he won't be around to play next season.
And even if Sunday turns out to be Owens' final game, he is still assured a measure of immortality. If he never plays again after this week, T.O. is a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer.
Admittedly, he might need one or two great seasons to reach that level if he does continue after this year. But any Hall-of-Fame voter who holds it against Owens if he sustains a career-ending injury because he rushed back to play in the Super Bowl should have his credentials stripped immediately.
If Owens does play in the Super Bowl — and it looks like he will — a lot of people are going to have to rethink their opinions of him. He and the Vikings' Randy Moss are cited as the examples of players who crave the spotlight and running up big personal numbers at the risk of team accomplishment.
If Owens plays Sunday, he can't be compared with Moss anymore.
Owens' athletic equals would be guys like Lynn Swann, who was MVP of Super Bowl X after sustaining a concussion in the AFC Championship game that year; Jack Youngblood, who played three postseason games on a broken leg; and Ronnie Lott, who had part of one of his fingers amputated rather than miss playoff games.
Playing seven weeks after an injury that requires 10 weeks to heal isn't the action of a prima donna; it's what you typically see from an athlete who would rather be part of a championship team than rack up gaudy stats.
And this is one party that, to Owens' credit, he doesn't want to miss.
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