Michael Tillery.com

What?

Sept 28th, 2006
by Michael Tillery

Tennessee-Chattanooga ties become Lambeau Field cries and ultimately Bill Walsh sighs. Alter-ego lies when you stand blue-silver starry, gazing towards Emmitt Smith's angry sky.The world says Oh My! To Philadelphia you fly where Santa Claus snowball hides. Philly fanatical highs under Dnabb's guise quickly turn frustration and to the land of the Cowboy you glide. Jerry Jones is alive, Parcell's spirit has died, and all of the sudden TO “reportedly” contemplates suicide.

TO? Terrell? TO! What's the deal? What is really going on with you? Is the “reported”suicide attempt just that, or another media constituted fau paux? Why do you continuously have to be this distraction? Are you sure you want to always be like this? You have to be familiar with the pop sound that a light bulb makes when it burns out. Do you duck like you heard a gunshot while sitting on a stoop in the hood? That pop one day is going to be your career. How will you handle it? Will you then try to go ahead with your “reported” suicide plan?

Don't do it!
Look bruh, people are really starting to worry about you, but there are some things that need to be said. Do you care if you live or die? This is getting crazy when there actually has to be dialogue if you are going to physically be around. That's ridiculous! What the hell are you doing? Don't you know that there are many people that care about you. No one in this world deserves a premature ending in a life that could be so prosperous. It's not too late to make a positive impact on prosperity. Dude, the tenth anniversary of Pac's death was September 13th! Don't you remember?

Did you learn anything?
Don't take this personal nephew, but I hope the truth hurts.

Ruminate on this.
“Twenty-five million reasons,” as stated by your publicist, Kim Etheredge—during a superfluous press conference I might add—should not be the sole reason why you want to stay alive. Money ain't a thang! Answer a couple of questions, shut up—it's convenient when you actually have the temerity to say “no comment”—and professionally get back out there on the practice field. There was no need for a press conference! This was just an allergic reaction right? What's wrong with letting your play do the talking Sunday against the Titans? Don't get me cussing T.O., but you have your people hot under the collar man! Like that uncle who gives you advice with a slap on the back of the neck, there are those of us who are going to be behind you but damn! TO! TO! Are you even listening? I'm trying to talk to you. Someone needs to shake you until you get out of this fog of what you selfishly have gotten your own butt into. We're trying to help see you through this. We all are—even if you don't think we are. You are one of the best football players—not just receivers—in the league's history, but you are beginning to be like a roaring fire in the already boiling desert.

Slowly but surely you are becoming the angel with horns. I don't know why the world is surprised, because you are the Roman Empire spawn. A pawn of mainstream media creativity. They are not going to care less when you flame out. They'll just move on to the next fool. They say they hate you but you inexplicably lead off every damn sports show known to man. What is that really saying? Does any of us really know the answer? Fans can't help but to fall in love with your athleticism. You do things that make grown men jump like a kid on a playground and violently scream at the top of their lungs after you explosively turn a 5 yard hitch into six. See, you feed what is wrong with us. You don't conjure images that should be positive. You inspire hatred. A hatred that has festered across the entire sports landscape and will ultimately transform sports into the deadly Rollerball. It's very difficult to see Terrell when T.O. is rumbling unabated down the field with the speed, strength and ferocity of a hungry African lion. Your egotistical intentions aren't in sync with what a true parent wants their kids to see—ever!

You are a camera flashing fake smiling rated X. No one will logically deny that most quarterbacks, who have ever played this game, wouldn't want you to throw to on game day. We all know that your combined talent and athleticism is incomparable. You are a play maker in every sense of the word. To your credit, even a better one than Michael Irvin. The problem is, what the hell will you do on Monday? Mike for all of his fallacies on and off the field has three rings. How many do you have? Did you hear the entire world scream none? Are your ears still ringing as you wipe the sports world's hated fire and brimstone like saliva off your face? Remember when Mike's neck was injured in Philly and the fans ridiculously cheered? If you unfortunately were hurt in a similar fashion, I'm sure it would be worse. Of course the media is accountable. That is a given. They run behind to document your every action like some hypothetical perverted voyeur that the neighborhood full of children is sick of. If you didn't have your Stephen Fletcher like face in front of the media smiling all the damn time, the cameras would one by one fade away.

That really is the problem isn't it?

Remember Green Bay? Steve Young threw a pass that he knew you would get smacked for catching, but you held on. Playoff victory! You became the shy star who finally shined bright. It changed you. You know longer had to be in Jerry's shadow. You could now cast your own. How many passes did you catch in Rice's last home game? Twenty-two? Isn't that a record or something? That unfortunately did nothing but feed the beast that is presently occupying your brain with ever present and combustible growth. Keep it up and your head will look like that other “misunderstood” player who still plays in the Bay Area. At least Barry knows when to shut up. There is a huge difference. You better recognize. Your moment on the star was next in Dallas. Someone in your family should have put you in the mailbox and shipped you back to Africa. No, your ego grew and grew even though the attention was supremely negative. Garcia wasn't getting it done so you threw him and the whole San Francisco organization under the bus.

Then came Philly.

Wow Philly! I still can't believe they let you into such an anti-TO like town. They never should have signed you if they weren't going to pay you. They have a hand in all of this. A lot of this is their fault. Maybe Roy Williams breaking your ankle was a blessing in disguise. You didn't learn any humility even though what you did in the Super Bowl against the Patriots was amazing. After that performance, no one will ever question your work ethic. What they will always question is if you were more comfortable with your nine catches for one twenty-two stats or the fact that the Eagles lost. You again throw another organization under the bus? Doing sit ups in your drive way like some “Bamboozled” clown? Man, c'mon!
Half a year later you play for the team whose star you basically urinated on.
Incredible.

A bad hamstring, a broken finger, some generic vicodin later and here we go again.
Terrell this is nothing more than tough love. You need a serious hug. With the twenty-five million you made from Jerry Jones, pool some inventors together to create a hugging machine for those who feel no love. Maybe that will finally make you happy.
What does make you happy? Turn right in the mirror and you see Terrell. Turn left and you see TO. Shake your head back and forth quickly and what do you see? You are scaring the children! That almost demonic image can't be pretty. The kids want to be behind you Terrell. Hopefully, at least you've shaken some sense in your head. Of course, that too remains to be seen.