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For once Owens does right thing


	Terrell Owens figures he has nothing to lose by playing: 'If I re-injure it, it can be fixed,' he said.
	Photo by Amy Sancetta, AP

JACKSONVILLE — If he were Jerry Rice or Joe Montana or Brett Favre, Terrell Owens would be fully healed by the warmth radiating from the myth-makers wielding microphones and pens. Owens would be declared a throwback, a credit to the Super Bowl, a living testament to the power of the human spirit. Better yet, he would've been lifted to the highest available Media Day peak: Owens would've been called a gamer. But in the daily challenge confronting the sporting press — to lionize or not to lionize — Owens will never score enough points. He presented Exhibit A in the case against himself Tuesday, when he spent part of an hour needlessly hitting more quarterbacks than Jevon Kearse has hit all year, flipping jabs at SteveYoung, Jeff Garcia and Kyle Boller. If Owens had a second hour at the mike, he surely would've gotten around to sacking Y.A. Tittle. Tittle. Now there's an image that agrees with the accepted notions of NFL toughness, the aging warrior on his knees, helmet off, blood flowing down his face. Tittle did not deal in the currency of pompoms and Sharpies. He could've never mocked and mimicked the herky-jerky gyrations of his generation's Ray Lewis, for Chuck Bednarik was never one to dance. And yet as his Eagles prepare to face the Patriots, Owens is proving himself as tough as any of those just-rub-some-dirt-on-it players who always made your father's Sunday. Owens should be applauded for it, too. He's a New School star with an Old School threshold for pain, and no taste-free ad with a towel-free actress can detract from that. "I'm here, I'm going to play, and that's it," Owens said. Good for him. Even if he's 15 minutes out of the surgery performed on his busted-up leg, Owens is doing the right thing. He's taping it up and giving it a go against the defending champs. Nothing more American than that. "If you don't believe in miracles," Owens said, "just wait till Sunday." Mark Myerson, doctor, doesn't believe in miracles. Myerson tried to call a T.O. on T.O., but perhaps Owens grasped the obvious: After his experience with Grant Hill, Myerson wouldn't have cleared Owens to play with an ingrown toenail. The receiver knows his chiseled body better than any doctor, coach or columnist, and the risk-reward question is his to answer. This isn't some Olympic fraud or home-run-hitting cheat playing Russian Roulette with steroids while going for the gold. Owens' drug of choice is Noni Juice (yes, Noni Juice). He's making a perfectly legal and legitimate attempt to get healthy in time for the biggest game of his life. Owens isn't trying to take a rocket-propelled ride across the Snake River Canyon. He's only trying to play a violent game that he's mastered, and to play it with an improving wheel he now likens to a sprained ankle. He doesn't have to go again in Miami on Tuesday night, and then in San Antonio on Wednesday night, the way Hill did during his series of comebacks and setbacks. Win, lose or drawn out on a stretcher, Owens will get more than five months to recover before training camp. "If I reinjure it," he said, "it can be fixed." Hey, the man's no dummy. Owens knows what Curt Schilling did with his zombie movie of an ankle. He knows what Michael Jordan did with the flu, what Kirk Gibson did with that bat, what Willis Reed did with whatever virtue inspired him to hobble down that Game 7 tunnel in the direction of Wilt the Stilt. But when Owens says, "I'm not using this game to enhance my profile," I actually believe him, even if Owens swearing it isn't about his profile sounds like Don King swearing it isn't about the money. Owens realizes this is likely his once-in-a-career shot to win a ring. "If you think I'm going to be a decoy," Owens said, "good luck." He couldn't be a decoy if he tried. Owens can't help but command a diva's dose of attention, whether he's navigating a secondary or working a microphone, telling the world that the Ravens weren't worthy recruiters of his otherworldly skills. Owens spent much of his Media Day session talking about God, who isn't known to take Super Bowl sides. But the famed Voice of God, John Facenda, was a Philadelphia guy all the way, and one who would've offered the proper Old School respect for what Mr. New School, Terrell Owens, is trying to do. *** Ian O'Connor also writes for The (Westchester County, N.Y.) Journal News