Saved by the Bell: Going Away Often

And now, for something completely different--football news that doesn't involve cheerleaders, Ray Lewis, or anyone named "He Hate Me." Robert Smith, the Minnesota Vikings' running back, abruptly retired from football last week. At 28, Smith had just completed the best season of his career--a career that probably had four or five good years left. According to his agent, Smith now wants to head in "another direction."

Riiiiiiiiiight.

I expect Smith to be back by the time Temptation Island 3 hits TV. It's not that I doubt Smith's sincerity. I'm sure he thinks it's over. He just has yet to fully realize the truth--nobody in professional sports really retires anymore. The "amazing comeback" is now the norm, and I don't like it.

The biggest story in sports this year is that of hockey's Mario Lemieux. His return in December from three years of retirement was impressive. His performance since has been downright inhuman. Still, I couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable when they lowered his No. 66 from the rafters. His first retirement capped a brilliant career, including a storybook comeback from Hodgkin's disease. Lemieux's reappearance, though pleasant, seems to detract from the glory of his initial ride into the sunset.

Dick Vermeil retired after finally winning a Super Bowl ring as coach of the St. Louis Rams in 2000. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful Cinderella story. Of course, that didn't last. Vermeil has just signed on to coach the Kansas City Chiefs.

Regardless of how well Vermeil does in KC, this development takes something away from the St. Louis story. Some happy endings should stay that way--endings. The athletic "unretirement" resembles the unwanted sequel to a movie whose original ending was satisfying enough. The modern fan becomes a perverted version of Michael Corleone--just when we thought they were out, they pull us back in.

Comebacks make for great stories, but sometimes the stories can be too great. Michael Jordan retired after three championships, and then came back in 1996 for three more. Maybe I'm just a biased and bitter Knick fan who didn't like seeing the window of opportunity slam shut, but I can't help but believe that Jordan did the NBA a disservice in returning. The league had begun to promote its young talent in Jordan's absence, but then focused solely on His Airness again once he decided that a decade of torturing me wasn't enough.

Now that Jordan is gone for good, nobody wants to watch pro hoops. Most of the so-called NBA fans were really only MJ fans, and never got exposed to the rest of the league. Jordan's return eliminated the need for them to recognize other stars--dooming the league to fail once he retired again. His return did more than dominate the sport of basketball. It consumed it.

The rise of "comeback kids" is also damaging in that actual retirements mean less now. Dominik Hasek hung up his skates for what seemed like a week, and I won't care when he does it again.

I lost track of how many times Magic Johnson retired. He might actually still be playing for some team in Europe. But his multiple exits dulled the feeling of loss that usually accompanies a star's departure. When he first left, I was on the verge of tears. Once the third time rolled around, I barely noticed.

Everyone's getting in on the act. Detlef Schrempf is set to rejoin the Portland Trail Blazers after half a year off. There are rumors of a second round of Fernandomania--Valenzuela is only forty, after all. Barry Sanders' return has been so heavily discussed, it might has well have happened. At this rate, let the Tom Seaver watch begin.

In sports today, everyone is Ross Perot. They're in, they're out, they're in again, they're out again--and they expect just as much love the second and third trips around the park.

Well, I've about had it. I've decided to retire from The Crimson myself. I know you're shocked, but I have very good reasons. I've spent some time going over my recent columns, and I've determined that my woefully inaccurate prediction of an awesome Super Bowl last month may signal a decline in the quality of my work. I'd like to quit while I'm still at the top of my game.

Also, I'm worried about where sports coverage at Harvard is going. Last week, an Indy writer referred to a Trinity squash player as having been "beaten like a red-headed stepchild." If this is what passes for sports journalism nowadays, count me out. Oh yes, and I'd like to spend more time with my family.

With that, I bid you all adieu. I'd like to thank you all for your support these past two years. I'd like to thank the players and teams I've been privileged to cover, my colleagues, roommates, family and fans. Even as I step into the world of early retirement, I want you to know that today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of this paper.

See you again in a couple of weeks.