Charlie Sheen said it, and he knows a thing or two about sports (not to mention beautiful women). Winning is what sports are all about. Show me the money? More like show me the rings.
And so-called superstar Robert Griffin III has none of them. Zip. Zero.
The way Griffin’s being praised to the skies, you’d think he were a real live griffin. Griffins are mythological creatures. And that’s exactly what Robert Griffin’s oversized reputation is: a myth.
I first heard about this guy Griffin a few days ago out on the links with a couple of my buddies. When I got home I went straight to the only sports authority that matters: the encyclopedia entry for “Super Bowl champions.” And what do you know, Robert Griffin was nowhere to be found. (By the way, I looked in a real book. Not a computer, cyberheads — I’m not living in my parents’ basement.)
I thought, you gotta be kidding me. This guy’s never won a single ring. The next Johnny Unitas? More like the next Jimmy Carter. It’s only a matter of time before he’s building houses in Guatemala. One burrito, por favor!
When last year’s Super Bowl came down to the wire, RGIII was nowhere to be found. I don’t even remember him being on the field.
Like LeBron James, Alex Rodriguez, and Peyton Manning, he simply doesn’t have what it takes to win his game’s highest prize. ‘Nuff said.
What explains his utter and total lack of success at the only level that matters — the championship level — despite seeming to do so well in the regular season? One, there’s the fact that he was spoiled with a Heisman Trophy when he was still in college. He was only a student when he won football’s most legendary honor, and when you get degree of individual success while you’re still an amateur, you start to think you’re more important than the team. Yep, another “me-first” athlete.
Here’s a stat for the nerd crowd: Robert Griffin III has thrown three interceptions this year. Maybe one of the guys in his “posse” should have told him you’re supposed to throw it to the players on your OWN team.
Some Skins fans have taken to calling him “Black Jesus.” Ha! More like “Another False Prophet.” How many times do these people need to be disappointed? Because trust me, that’s where this is heading. Disappointment. We’re talking Milli Vanilli, Crying Game disappointment.
Until Griffin has actually carried the stinking corpse that is Washington sports back to the top of the proverbial heap, he’s RGZero to me.
Bart Foley is a 25-year veteran of sports journalism and author of the collection Tales From the Press Box. His forthcoming novel Rounds and Rounds We Go will introduce the character of professional golfer and ladies’ man Art Foley.
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