Sunday, January 14, 2001
Ray Lewis only feels bad for himself
On the night of last year's Super Bowl, two men were stabbed to death outside an Atlanta nightclub. About this, Ray Lewis is sorry. Ray Lewis grieves. For Ray Lewis.
He was there that night. He was in the crowd when the fight broke out and someone killed Richard Lollar and Jacinth Baker. The police accused Lewis of murder; the courts convicted him of obstructing justice.
Lewis spent 15 nights in a jail cell, for which he feels eternally aggrieved. Lollar and Baker don't have that problem. Grief is difficult when you're dead.
In the pages of a national magazine recently, Lewis did a remarkable thing. Given about 3,500 words to talk about that terrible night, Lewis used all but eight of them to feel sorry for himself: “I pour my heart out to those families” was the extent of his sadness.
Two men died. Ray grieves for himself.
Ego needs adjustment
Ray says the NFL wouldn't have fined him $250,000 “if this hadn't happened in the same offseason as (Rae) Carruth's pregnant girlfriend getting murdered.”
Yeah, terrible timing.
“I was on everybody's television, in chains,” Ray says.
Ray lives deep in the heart of I, Me, My. He reeks of ego. He's yet another star athlete who confuses his sports stardom with real importance. Ray even claims God is rewarding him now for his jail time. As if God were, you know, a Ray fan.
“(God) says, "When you go through tragedy, I'll make it your biggest treasure.' And I feel like the season I'm having is my treasure,” says Ray.
Feel free to wonder what Lewis' tragedy was.
In the first six paragraphs of his magazine exclusive, Ray manages to invoke the first-person singular a mere 29 times. Ray cried in jail. Ray was frustrated and lonely. Ray was ... bored.
What, no Madden 2000?
Two men died. Ray grieves for himself.
He'll stick with thugs
We still hope for more from our sports heroes, not less. More character, more compassion, more of whatever it is that makes them special. Instead we get guys such as Ray Lewis, whose athletic skills are exceeded only by their self-absorption.
Ray admits to running with the wrong crowd. Ray says he hangs with thugs because he came from thugs. He suggests he'll continue to hang with thugs. Because Ray feels no responsibility to anyone beyond Ray. “Thugs helped get me where I am,” Ray says. Ray will keep it real.
The people who pay him aren't thugs, though. The corporate sponsors, the advertisers, the fans in the stands are not thugs. Most don't relate to a man who says what happened to him could happen to anybody: “A fight breaks out involving your friends, and a champagne bottle is breaking over one of their heads.”
Never seen it happen. How 'bout you?
He will walk onto the field in Oakland today, and people will roar. If form holds, Ray Lewis of the Baltimore Ravens will be the best player out there. You could watch a lifetime of football and not see a better linebacker. Lewis is the Ravens' jagged, scary heart.
What a great player. What a silly human being.
“This mess has cost me my good name, faith in the judicial system, more than $2 million,” Lewis says.
But not your life, Ray. Not your life.
Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at (513) 768-8454.
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DAUGHERTY: Ray Lewis only feels bad for himself
