By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
I know, T.O. caught his league-leading 12th touchdown against the Eagles. But he hasn't made a superstar impact—according to voting by fans, players and coaches, not even a Pro Bowl impact. In fact, he's produced only one unique, special, signature catch—the one-handed touchdown snatch against Atlanta. His strength was supposed to be those abundant run-after-catch yards but, quick, name T.O.'s best instinctive improvisation of the season? Hmm. Me neither.
After the game, of course, Owens didn't let his two-catch, two-drop fiasco muffle his self-aggrandizing, petulant persona.
"I just feel like I'm not involved early in the game," said a smug Owens, proudly wearing a "Cowboys" Santa hat in the wake of a 16-point loss. "It's hard to get in the flow when you're getting a ball here, a ball there. Then late in the game, they start throwing the ball to me. It's too late."
Taking a page from Parcells' surprisingly successful ignorance toward Owens—"I've tried to make it a habit not to talk too much about the player"—I'm only now mentioning T.O.'s subtle disaster off the field, just now addressing the endless incidents that by Week 17 have a nagging, negative cumulative effect. Finally, fatally, bringing up the shit that makes Owens sooonot worth it, like the hamstring...the overdose...the tardiness...the arguments...the napping...the birthday party...the inappropriate smiling...the faking...the spitting...the dominoes with Eagles players on Christmas Eve...T.O. must go.
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