Saying goodbye isn't easy, but it's right

Saying goodbye isn't easy, but it's right
Posted: February 25, 2009.
Bob Kravitz



By midseason, it had become painfully, cruelly clear: Marvin Harrison, the second most productive receiver in NFL history and an iconic presence with the Indianapolis Colts, was playing on borrowed time. He was due to count $13.4 million against the 2009 salary cap, and that number no longer jibed with his dwindling production and continuing injury problems.

This, sadly, had to happen.


And now, officially, it has.

The Colts did what they had to do as it became distressingly obvious that Harrison was on the back nine of his remarkable career. The catches were down. The injuries were up. And so the club granted Harrison's wish to be released.

It began in 1996. It ended Tuesday afternoon. It was a magnificent journey with a player team president Bill Polian called "the transcendent receiver of this generation."

"He worked so hard on his craft, was always so prepared and did every little thing it took to win and become a great player,'' Polian said. "And he did it with quiet dignity, superb professionalism and a sense of contribution to the team that was second to none."

In the salary-cap age, when teams have a finite number of dollars to spend on payroll, there is no room for sentimentality. Consider how the Colts released Edgerrin James after he ran for 1,506 yards in 2005. The move worked: The Colts drafted Joseph Addai and won a Super Bowl the next season.

These kinds of goodbyes are necessary, especially in the bottom-line NFL, but that doesn't make them any less gut-wrenching.

Team owner Jim Irsay made a final try to come to a meeting of the minds with Harrison on Tuesday, an odd decision that could have served to undermine Polian's authority. But Irsay has an ear for the poetry of the game. He couldn't let Harrison leave without saying some final words, couldn't bear to watch him be reduced to scoreboard-page insignificance.

"Really, it was just getting right up against the moment, me having an opportunity to talk to (Harrison) and him doing the same," Irsay said. "I wouldn't describe it as a last-ditch effort."

If this is definitely goodbye -- and it would be a shock and a mistake if Harrison returned later for less money -- then No. 88 leaves as one of the franchise's all-time greats. He was consistent. He was professional. He was durable, at least until the end. And his production through the years was virtually unmatched, placing him second in all-time receptions behind Jerry Rice.

Did you ever think the day would come when Peyton Manning and Harrison would no longer be playing pitch-and-catch on Sundays? The quarterback and wide receiver were a comfortable old couple, forever finishing one another's sentences on the football field.

No pair ever did it better. Not Joe Montana and Rice. Not Steve Young and Rice. Not Johnny Unitas and Raymond Berry or Jim Kelly and Andre Reed.

Beyond all that, Harrison was respected and beloved here for what he wasn't -- a publicity-seeking, self-aggrandizing clown more interested in end-zone dances than touchdown passes. That kind of old-school restraint sold very well here.

"He was really a throwback," Irsay said.

There were some blemishes, sure. There were some off-the-field incidents that never seemed to stick very long to Harrison, and there was the Philadelphia shooting last summer that involved Harrison's firearm.

The truth is, he was here for 13 years and few ever got to know him well. Years ago, I asked several Colts teammates to tell me the most private thing they knew about No. 88. The responses were almost uniform: He's from Philadelphia. He likes Tastykakes. That was it. He shared nothing with the media and little more with the public.

That was OK, though, because all he ever owed the fans -- all any athlete really owes anybody -- was his best effort.

In the end, there were the numbers, all those incredible numbers. And there were moments, indelibly etched in the mind's eye.

Polian recalled the seemingly effortless one-handed catch in Tennessee in 2003, how Harrison made the play and then waved for the offense to join him in Titans territory.

Irsay remembered the ridiculous bobble-and-snare in the right corner of the end zone in New England in 2006, maybe the greatest 4-yard hookup in history.

Whatever the memory, there was an elegance about his play, a casual simplicity in the way he made the remarkable seem matter-of-fact.

You knew the end of his Colts career was near during that final regular-season home game against Tennessee: The Colts did the honorable thing, feeding Harrison short passes until he moved into second place on the all-time reception list. They then kept showing his image and his record on the big screen at Lucas Oil Stadium. That day, the crowd sensed that this was the last time they'd see Harrison playing a home game in Indianapolis.

Today, the marvelous Marvin Harrison is likely finished as an Indianapolis Colt.

Greatness, even the kind of greatness Harrison displayed for 13 jaw-dropping years, has an expiration date.
Link