Posted on Tue, Jul. 29, 2008
Ricky is driven by road to redemption
BY GREG COTE
Sweat is glistening on Ricky Williams' face beneath the black skullcap stretched tightly over his close-cropped hair. It is Tuesday, wind sprints have ended, and he is walking off the Dolphins' practice field, every step inching him closer to something that once seemed impossible for him to ever have but now appears within his reach:
Redemption.
It matters to him.
Ricky can come off at times as guarded, or aloof, his passion for football not worn like a badge or macho statement. You might cast him as the pacifist begrudgingly abiding war. The enigmatic free spirit in him hasn't left, as his passions for photography and yoga suggest. But know this:
He cares about his football legacy, about how he is regarded. That means he cares about you, about fans. He cares that ''Ricky Williams'' had come to connote ''quitter,'' or ''selfish.'' He cares that past marijuana use turned him into a punch line.
He wants to make things right.
You ask him why he came back to football (again), at age 31, and he starts with, ''No. 1, it's a good salary. There's not many jobs where you make this kind of money.'' Because Ricky is nothing if not honest.
But then you get the answer more fundamental than a paycheck.
''The way I left made it difficult,'' he said Tuesday. ``To come back and clear my name was important to me.''
This is an athlete asking forgiveness, in a way.
This is an athlete trying to fix what he broke, which is our trust in him.
Williams' comeback is one of the extraordinary NFL stories in 2008. It was overshadowed locally by the Jason Taylor soap opera, and is overshadowed nationally by the Brett Favre soap opera.
But Ricky's is the more compelling tale because it involves going wrong and getting right.
SIMILAR PATH
In baseball, Texas Rangers slugger Josh Hamilton overcame years of drug and alcohol addiction that threatened to ruin his career if not his life, only to be embraced as heroic, his recent showing in the Home Run Derby serving as national affirmation of his recovery.
Williams' 2008 Dolphins season would make him football's version of Hamilton, if he does his part -- staying clean, reliable, productive -- and if Dolfans remain as generous with their forgiveness as they seem to be with a player most embrace as the wayward son who found his way home.
That Ricky looms as a genuine feel-good Miami story is rather astounding. What were the odds a mercurial player with a checkered past of drug use and league suspensions would be embraced by no-nonsense Bill Parcells and tough-guy coach Tony Sparano? What were the odds a running back who has started only three NFL games since 2003 would emerge as arguably the Dolphins' best, most important player five long years later?
Pieces dovetail to make it so, almost as if fate is a friend.
Miami's starting quarterback will either be a so-so journeyman (Josh McCown), a man inexperienced and unproven (John Beck) or a raw rookie (Chad Henne). That, along with Parcells' and Sparano's histories, suggest a power running game will be this offense's favored flavor.
That means Ronnie Brown and Ricky Williams. Except Brown is not yet fully recovered from last season's major knee surgery, to the degree Sparano admitted this week Brown's comeback is ''a little bit of a slow process,'' and the player himself acknowledged, ``I still have a long way to go.''
That means a lot of Ricky. A 1,000-yard rushing season would not surprise. You might take him earlier than most expect in your fantasy draft, and do so with a knowing smile.
Have we seen anything like this comeback in South Florida sports? Comes to mind only the Heat's Alonzo Mourning, stricken with a serious kidney ailment, coming back, traded, coming back.
Bear in mind Williams was as good as any runner in football for Miami over the 2002 and '03 seasons, rushing for 3,225 yards with 97 receptions and 27 touchdowns.
His No. 34 jerseys were the hottest in town because he was wildly popular.
Then his jerseys were the hottest in town because they were on fire, burned in effigy.
Williams cast himself in a villain's role by abruptly retiring, chasing his muse, quitting the team on the eve of the 2004 preseason. A career and a reputation, gone in a cloud of smoke.
A CLEAN SLATE
He would return in '05 after serving a four-game league drug suspension, miss the entire '06 NFL season suspended, then, after being reinstated late last year, carry only six times for 15 yards before leaving his first game and the season injured.
Now the runner best known for his missteps moves improbably toward redemption.
''To clear my name was important to me,'' he said.
Ricky Williams is getting there. As always, the only man who can stop him is himself.