No Mo', Maurice

This is my first foray into sports writing. Don't worry; I won't quit my day job.

Mary and I live in Columbus, OH. Other than its position as the state capital, Columbus is known for primarily one thing, the Ohio State football team. This is a city that is passionate about its football team. High school recruiting is followed by the city's main newspaper, the Dispatch. Janitors, doctors, lawyers and teachers all wear the team's colors, scarlet and grey, to work on Fridays during football season. The stadium consistently sells out for seven Saturdays each fall, with more than 104,000 fans paying a minimum of $57 a ticket to watch the team play.

I moved to Columbus just in time to watch the Buckeyes win the 2002 National Championship in what was most likely the greatest championship game ever. Really, it was. One of the main reasons the team was so good that year was because of a freshman running back named, Maurice Clarett. Clarett is a household name in Columbus - unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons. As you might imagine in such a football crazed city, when a player helps the team he becomes a god and when he does something to tarnish the team the city just as quickly turns him into a the devil incarnate.

And so it is with Clarett, who after one season with OSU decided to challenge the National Football League's rule that a player must be three years removed from high school before he could enter the NFL draft. He lost that challenge, was caught accepting gifts from athletic boosters (not allowed in college sports), and finally sealed his fate when he went public with allegations that the team's coaches and administration were directly involved in dishing out the improper benefits he took advantage of during his one year on campus.

From day one I have stood solidly in Clarett's corner. He is a natural athlete who demanded to be compensated for his skills. In my mind, he is no different than an eighteen year old computer whiz who receives a scholarship to a university, and then decides he can do a hell of a lot better by leaving school and working for a Silicon Valley company. Clarett lived a difficult life growing up in Ohio's economically depressed Northeast. He graduated high school early so that he could begin practice with the Ohio State team before any of his incoming classmates. He ran hard, and on more than one occasion carried his team to a win, and ultimately a perfect 14-0 season. In 2002 on gamedays, half the stadium was wearing Clarett's No. 13 jersey. By the 2004 season finale against Michigan fans were gleefully buying "Fuck Clarett" t-shirts outside the stadium. In Columbus there is a long way for your star to fall.

Like I said, throughout the past two years I was quick to defend Clarett from all of his attackers. No more. Clarett was scheduled to take part in a scouting exhibition this weekend that features eight of pro football's brightest draft prospects. Although he hasn't played competitively for two full seasons, the invitation was extended to Clarett and the event promised to be a great first step to rebuilding his limping public image. More than anything I was excited to root for Clarett again, to be able to say to people, "See, he is good enough to succeed in the pros."

Inexplicably, its not going to happen like that. Clarett, on the advice of his newly hired agent, has withdrawn from the event just a few days before it begins. I may be one of the last people in Columbus to do so, but I'm cutting Clarett loose. If he can't see the value in running around in shorts and a t-shirt and resuscitating his public image by being on the same field as college's best athletes, I have a hard time seeing the value in supporting him. I truly hope he does well in the pros, but I'm not giving him the benefit of the doubt anymore.