I don't want to see
Michael Vick. Not anymore. Not as the "Tidy Bowl Play of the Day." Or a frenetic bobble-head with legs more suited for "Dancing with the Stars" than for an NFL QB with the goods to play deep into January. No more Vick the Quick.
I want to see Michael Vick win. Not because I'm a Falcons fan. I have a well-worn "Dirty Bird," T-shirt but that's about the extent of Falconmania in my house. I want to see him win because he can win, because he should win and -- on the real now -- he needs to win.
Vick is only 26-years-old, a pup in
Brett Favre Years. He's played just five NFL seasons, barely halfway up the typical QB learning curve. But his speed, his tendency to hurdle tackling wannabes and that elusive Peachtree Two-Step always put him just one crazed-linebacker lick away from becoming Joe Theisman of the Hip-Hop generation -- superstar on Sunday, broadcaster on Monday.
More importantly, Vick's style has yet to lead the Atlanta Falcons deep into the playoffs. At least not deep enough to silence the myriad who say he doesn't have the necessities (You really have to love that word now) to lead his team to the Super Bowl. Or that he's pretty good QB for a wide receiver. Some say he'd better serve the Falcons as a running back.
It was all a bunch of crunk. Michael Vick is a quarterback and he is going to live or die as such. But this is the truth: If the NFL's Most Exciting QB is going to ever be known as something other than the NFL Most Exciting QB, that transformation must begin now. No more excuses.
No more whining.
Consider the morphing begun.
Vick humbled the Super Bowl aspiring Carolina Panthers 20-6 on Sunday with hot arm not his feet. He passed for 140 yards, pedestrian by any measure, but threw two touchdown passes -- a 34-yarder to wideout
Michael Jenkins that was more Jenkins than Vick, and a rifled one-yarder to tight end
Alge Crumpler in the third quarter that pretty much iced it.
This was Vick's key stat: He had only 48 yards rushing on seven carries, 24 of which came on one nifty and necessary run.
If there's an NFL theme for 2006, it should be The Proving Season.
Vick isn't alone among NFL QBs hoping this is the year when demons are purged, labels laid to rest or misconceptions debunked.
Steve McNair is looking to prove, at 33, he's got another Super Bowl run in his aging body.
David Carr hopes to prove the Texans were right to pass on hometown legend Vince Young.
Donovan McNabb is looking to prove less (or no) T.O. is plenty.
Ben Roethlisberger will be looking to prove there is life after stupidity.
Byron Leftwich is looking to prove he's the better of the league's two Marshall alumni; NY Jet
Chad Pennington being the other.
And
Brett Favre is looking to prove that, well, he can he as stubborn as he wants to be.
Michael Vick must prove he’s ready to be the QB he claims to be, not the one that pleases fans and highlight show producers. And he must prove it this season.
Vick's displays have always been great theater, except for those with front row seats -- his teammates. Earlier this week, former Falcons linebacker
Chris Draft , now of Carolina, told Atlanta Constitution columnist Terence Moore what it was like to be a Falcon on the sideline with Vick at the helm. "The fear is that he's so explosive, and that he makes so many plays, and that he's so willing to throw his body around that one of these days he's not going to get back up," said Draft. "I've seen him take some, well, shots. And we're over there watching and saying, like, 'No, no, no. Get down. Please, Mike, get down.' Whereas, you have the crowd standing up and cheering and yelling and not realizing that he's about to get killed."
On Sunday, Vick was a quarterback no one could dispute. He was smart, efficient and rarely in danger. He handed the ball to running back
Warrick Dunn so often (29 times, 132 yards) the Panthers almost forgot about his own legs. Almost. Carolina still shadowed him on almost every play, committed to preventing him from break-dancing in their house.
That's why it seemed nearly every Panther converged on Vick late in the first half, just after he faked a handoff to Dunn and bootlegged left. "It was a pass concept call," Vick said later. "As soon as I became a threat to run, I saw everybody close. They got out of their passing lanes and I was able to dump it off to him."
"Him" was Jenkins, the 6-foot, 4-inch third-year player who is emerging as the receiving
weapon Vick has yet to have. Jenkins cradled the short pass, then nimbly sidestepped his way
down the sideline into the end zone.
This is the kind of Michael Vick highlight I'd like to see throughout 2006. As Jenkins scored, and celebrated in the end zone, his QB was nowhere in sight.
