Nine.com -- What were the odds?
When most look back to the time when they were first introduced to Maurice Clarett, fresh off a fabulous scholastic grid career at Warren Harding (Ohio) High, the youngster was lining up in the Ohio State backfield and making a mockery of big-time college football defenses.
To most, he appeared to be so good, so special, so advanced, that all the riches and accolades available through the NFL would be at his fingertips. Lord knows, no one had any idea that he would end up last month in the back of a paddy wagon, sporting a protective vest and enough ammo to make a Third World radical proud. Or that he'd be awaiting trial right now on charges incurred from that fateful night back in early August.
Indeed, what were the odds?
Well, actually...pretty good.
Even odds may have been a stretch, but 3-2 -- um, that would have been pretty much right on.
First off, forget all the emotional issues the kid has, either through his own doing or from people always excusing his mistakes, especially off the field. The "getting a Goose on" habit, the ever-revolving door of lawyers, agents and hangers-on, the "cryptic" threats from others, the "loans," the flashy cars, the Hollywood lifestyle and 'tude...well, all stem from one thing: The overvaluing of his athletic ability.
For anyone who thought he was a can't-miss prospect, the Fiesta Bowl played in January 2003 should have been Exhibit A that he was not. Miami, which, most years, is just about the perfect team against which a player can test his pro potential, made that obvious.
Clarett lacked the speed to excel at the next level, and he didn't have the "shake" to compensate. Size was never an issue. He was 235 pounds with the Buckeyes, which would have more than sufficed any NFL coach.
But the wheels...well, as much as they were coming off upstairs, they never would move quick enough to make him a factor as a pro.
Hype and circumstance seemed to work in Clarett's favor as a freshman -- by the way, for all of those who say he had a record-setting freshman season, please get a grip about his 1,237 yards, since it has been surpassed many times by newcomers.
Regardless, the Hurricanes exposed him.
Granted, one game shouldn't be an indictment on a player, but this was blatantly obvious. Despite scoring two touchdowns, Clarett was held to 47 yards on 23 carries...and looked like he was dragging around an anchor in doing so.
By the time he finally finagled his way into the combine more than two years later, Clarett confirmed that would be the same scenario for any team that drafted him. He was, flat out, too slow.
Denver, amazingly, took a shot -- probably due to Broncos coach Mike Shanahan's overconfidence in his ability to make 1,000-yard runners out of also-rans.
But the youngster was overwhelmed at that point, already shaken by the public embarrassment of not being able to crack a lineman's clocking in the 40.
The tale is a sad one, but not all that surprising.
When most look back to the time when they were first introduced to Maurice Clarett, fresh off a fabulous scholastic grid career at Warren Harding (Ohio) High, the youngster was lining up in the Ohio State backfield and making a mockery of big-time college football defenses.
To most, he appeared to be so good, so special, so advanced, that all the riches and accolades available through the NFL would be at his fingertips. Lord knows, no one had any idea that he would end up last month in the back of a paddy wagon, sporting a protective vest and enough ammo to make a Third World radical proud. Or that he'd be awaiting trial right now on charges incurred from that fateful night back in early August.
Indeed, what were the odds?
Well, actually...pretty good.
Even odds may have been a stretch, but 3-2 -- um, that would have been pretty much right on.
First off, forget all the emotional issues the kid has, either through his own doing or from people always excusing his mistakes, especially off the field. The "getting a Goose on" habit, the ever-revolving door of lawyers, agents and hangers-on, the "cryptic" threats from others, the "loans," the flashy cars, the Hollywood lifestyle and 'tude...well, all stem from one thing: The overvaluing of his athletic ability.
For anyone who thought he was a can't-miss prospect, the Fiesta Bowl played in January 2003 should have been Exhibit A that he was not. Miami, which, most years, is just about the perfect team against which a player can test his pro potential, made that obvious.
Clarett lacked the speed to excel at the next level, and he didn't have the "shake" to compensate. Size was never an issue. He was 235 pounds with the Buckeyes, which would have more than sufficed any NFL coach.
But the wheels...well, as much as they were coming off upstairs, they never would move quick enough to make him a factor as a pro.
Hype and circumstance seemed to work in Clarett's favor as a freshman -- by the way, for all of those who say he had a record-setting freshman season, please get a grip about his 1,237 yards, since it has been surpassed many times by newcomers.
Regardless, the Hurricanes exposed him.
Granted, one game shouldn't be an indictment on a player, but this was blatantly obvious. Despite scoring two touchdowns, Clarett was held to 47 yards on 23 carries...and looked like he was dragging around an anchor in doing so.
By the time he finally finagled his way into the combine more than two years later, Clarett confirmed that would be the same scenario for any team that drafted him. He was, flat out, too slow.
Denver, amazingly, took a shot -- probably due to Broncos coach Mike Shanahan's overconfidence in his ability to make 1,000-yard runners out of also-rans.
But the youngster was overwhelmed at that point, already shaken by the public embarrassment of not being able to crack a lineman's clocking in the 40.
The tale is a sad one, but not all that surprising.
