RealGM Analysis
“Be nice to people on the way up, because you’ll meet them on the way down.” -- Wilson Mizner, playwright.
In the span of a few months, two of the most dominant athletes of the last generation -- Shaquille O'Neal and Randy Moss -- retired. There had never been a center as big and fast as Shaq, and there had never been a wide receiver as tall and fast as Moss.
Both were so good that the rules didn’t always apply to them, with both wearing out their welcomes on multiple teams. Yet while Shaq was widely celebrated for his contributions to the NBA, the reaction to Moss’ departure has been much more subdued.
That’s because Shaq played the media game and Moss didn’t. Shaq cared immensely about his public reputation; he cultivated relationships with reporters and wasn’t afraid to surreptitiously assign blame to his teammates or his coaches. Moss, meanwhile, treated dealing with the press as an obligation and seemed utterly indifferent to public criticism.
Since football players only play on one side of the ball, it’s nearly impossible for them to impact the game as much as a star basketball player can. Wide receivers, in particular, have to depend on the offensive line to protect the quarterback and the quarterback to get them the ball. Moss, second all-time in touchdown catches at 153 despite playing only 13 seasons, was as dominant as a WR could possibly be.
At 6’4 215, he was one of the first dual sport stars to choose football over basketball. While tall receivers before him tended to be slow, muscle-bound guys like Keyshawn Johnson, the sleek Moss had the agility and speed of an NBA shooting guard. Rookie receivers usually struggle with the transition to the NFL; Moss averaged over a touchdown a game in his first year in Minnesota.
It didn’t matter who was QB -- Randall Cunningham, Jeff George, Daunte Culpepper -- they just had to be able to throw the ball really far and really high. The average NFL CB is 5’11 190; they were defenseless to stop a receiver who could out-run and out-jump them. Moss was the main weapon on the two highest-scoring offenses since the AFC/NFC merger: the 1998 Vikings, who went 15-1 and averaged 34.8 points a game, and the 2007 Patriots, who went 16-0 and averaged 36.8 points a game.
When he was finally given a chance to play with a top-tier QB in Tom Brady, he put up numbers that not even Jerry Rice, who played most of his career with Joe Montana and Steve Young, could match. Their first year together, Brady set the single-season passing touchdown mark with 50 and Moss set the single-season receiving touchdown mark with 23. In his three years in New England, Moss averaged over 15 touchdowns, nearly one a game.
His combination of size and speed revolutionized the game. In the seven drafts before Moss’ rookie season, there were six WR’s 6’3 or taller taken in the first round. In the seven after, there were 15. The Detroit Lions, who faced Moss twice a year, took tall receivers in the top 10 (6’3 Charles Rogers, 6’3 Roy Williams and 6’5 Mike Williams) three consecutive times.
And just as Shaq was criticized for recovering on injuries on “company time” and loafing on defense, Moss was reluctant to go over the middle and admitted that he didn’t always exert himself on routes not aimed at him. It’s a testament to how talented both were that both all-time great careers while still leaving the impression they underachieved.
But despite their similar patterns of behavior, Moss has been portrayed as a malcontent while Shaq is seen as a lovable giant. Many will remember Moss for how forced himself out of Minnesota and Oakland and his bizarre final season, when he played for three different teams -- the Patriots, Vikings and Titans. Yet the malicious way Shaq burned bridges on his way out of town four different times is already being forgotten.
He called Orlando a “dried-up pond” before bolting for the Lakers, endlessly feuded with Kobe in LA, ripped the training staff in Miami as well as several of his former teammates after being traded, and stole Steve Nash’s idea for a TV show in his time in Phoenix. But because Shaq always made time for the media and always had a smile on his face, his reputation has remained mostly spotless.
On the other hand, Moss treated the press corps with visible disdain. He never opened himself up to the fans, never apologized for any of his actions and never bothered with any pretense of humility. As a result, when he made a PR mistake or a had a bad season, there was no one willing to cut him any slack.
Moss wasn’t obligated to be nice to the media, and for the most part, he wasn’t. But he forgot that the media weren’t obligated to be nice to him either, and for the most part, they weren’t.
Shaq has already earned a cushy TNT gig after his retirement and seems poised to coast on a mountain of goodwill in a manner similar to Charles Barkley, his new co-worker. Moss seems likely to fade into obscurity, returning to his roots in West Virginia and disappearing from public view largely unmourned.
And maybe that’s what he wanted all along, just to be left alone. Maybe he really doesn’t care about his legacy as a football player. That was his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences of it.
In the span of a few months, two of the most dominant athletes of the last generation -- Shaquille O'Neal and Randy Moss -- retired. There had never been a center as big and fast as Shaq, and there had never been a wide receiver as tall and fast as Moss.
Both were so good that the rules didn’t always apply to them, with both wearing out their welcomes on multiple teams. Yet while Shaq was widely celebrated for his contributions to the NBA, the reaction to Moss’ departure has been much more subdued.
That’s because Shaq played the media game and Moss didn’t. Shaq cared immensely about his public reputation; he cultivated relationships with reporters and wasn’t afraid to surreptitiously assign blame to his teammates or his coaches. Moss, meanwhile, treated dealing with the press as an obligation and seemed utterly indifferent to public criticism.
Since football players only play on one side of the ball, it’s nearly impossible for them to impact the game as much as a star basketball player can. Wide receivers, in particular, have to depend on the offensive line to protect the quarterback and the quarterback to get them the ball. Moss, second all-time in touchdown catches at 153 despite playing only 13 seasons, was as dominant as a WR could possibly be.
At 6’4 215, he was one of the first dual sport stars to choose football over basketball. While tall receivers before him tended to be slow, muscle-bound guys like Keyshawn Johnson, the sleek Moss had the agility and speed of an NBA shooting guard. Rookie receivers usually struggle with the transition to the NFL; Moss averaged over a touchdown a game in his first year in Minnesota.
It didn’t matter who was QB -- Randall Cunningham, Jeff George, Daunte Culpepper -- they just had to be able to throw the ball really far and really high. The average NFL CB is 5’11 190; they were defenseless to stop a receiver who could out-run and out-jump them. Moss was the main weapon on the two highest-scoring offenses since the AFC/NFC merger: the 1998 Vikings, who went 15-1 and averaged 34.8 points a game, and the 2007 Patriots, who went 16-0 and averaged 36.8 points a game.
When he was finally given a chance to play with a top-tier QB in Tom Brady, he put up numbers that not even Jerry Rice, who played most of his career with Joe Montana and Steve Young, could match. Their first year together, Brady set the single-season passing touchdown mark with 50 and Moss set the single-season receiving touchdown mark with 23. In his three years in New England, Moss averaged over 15 touchdowns, nearly one a game.
His combination of size and speed revolutionized the game. In the seven drafts before Moss’ rookie season, there were six WR’s 6’3 or taller taken in the first round. In the seven after, there were 15. The Detroit Lions, who faced Moss twice a year, took tall receivers in the top 10 (6’3 Charles Rogers, 6’3 Roy Williams and 6’5 Mike Williams) three consecutive times.
And just as Shaq was criticized for recovering on injuries on “company time” and loafing on defense, Moss was reluctant to go over the middle and admitted that he didn’t always exert himself on routes not aimed at him. It’s a testament to how talented both were that both all-time great careers while still leaving the impression they underachieved.
But despite their similar patterns of behavior, Moss has been portrayed as a malcontent while Shaq is seen as a lovable giant. Many will remember Moss for how forced himself out of Minnesota and Oakland and his bizarre final season, when he played for three different teams -- the Patriots, Vikings and Titans. Yet the malicious way Shaq burned bridges on his way out of town four different times is already being forgotten.
He called Orlando a “dried-up pond” before bolting for the Lakers, endlessly feuded with Kobe in LA, ripped the training staff in Miami as well as several of his former teammates after being traded, and stole Steve Nash’s idea for a TV show in his time in Phoenix. But because Shaq always made time for the media and always had a smile on his face, his reputation has remained mostly spotless.
On the other hand, Moss treated the press corps with visible disdain. He never opened himself up to the fans, never apologized for any of his actions and never bothered with any pretense of humility. As a result, when he made a PR mistake or a had a bad season, there was no one willing to cut him any slack.
Moss wasn’t obligated to be nice to the media, and for the most part, he wasn’t. But he forgot that the media weren’t obligated to be nice to him either, and for the most part, they weren’t.
Shaq has already earned a cushy TNT gig after his retirement and seems poised to coast on a mountain of goodwill in a manner similar to Charles Barkley, his new co-worker. Moss seems likely to fade into obscurity, returning to his roots in West Virginia and disappearing from public view largely unmourned.
And maybe that’s what he wanted all along, just to be left alone. Maybe he really doesn’t care about his legacy as a football player. That was his choice, and now he has to live with the consequences of it.
