It’s His Mind That Has to Heal

Throughout all of Terrell Owens’ antics, from the star to the Sharpie to the sit-ups, I never wished he would just go away. Until now. For his sake.

We don’t know for certain that Owens attempted suicide by overdosing on painkilling medication, as a police report indicated Wednesday. We don’t know whether he simply had a bad reaction to mixing painkillers and nutritional supplements, as Owens and his publicist said later in the day.

We do know that Owens is an individual who needs to be catered to, and he’s playing for a coach that doesn’t care about him, in a sport that has no concern for a player’s mental health.

That’s a toxic combination in itself.

The ending might not be so dramatic as to require a 911 call, but it will end badly unless Owens takes some time to address whatever issues always conspire to surround him in controversy.

On a day when a fire rescue spokesman, a police spokesman, a Dallas Cowboys spokesman, the Cowboys coach and finally Owens himself met the media, the most revealing news conference was the one that had no news, given by a man who claimed to have no knowledge about the situation. That would be Cowboys Coach Bill Parcells, and his attitude couldn’t have made a bolder statement if he borrowed a pen from Owens and wrote on the wall.

“I really don’t have a clear picture,” Parcells said when asked about the Owens situation. “You probably know more than I do.”

Parcells admitting that reporters knew more than him? That’s a new one. So is the concept of a player being hospitalized and a coach not bothering to visit him or call him. Parcells seemed to be completely out of the loop when it came to Owens. Michael Irvin had talked to Owens. Deion Sanders had been to Owens’ house. Parcells said, “I don’t know really where he is right now.”

You had the sense that T.O.’s location was not a high priority for him. No need to get Jack Bauer on the case.

In case you had any doubts about Parcells and his agenda, he stated: “I’m just a coach. I’m trying to get this team ready to play Tennessee.”

In other words, he’s got no time for receivers who might or might not be suicidal, at least not if they couldn’t make practice that day.

Owens caught passes from quarterback Drew Bledsoe and backup Tony Romo on Wednesday afternoon. Incredibly, after all that had happened, he even talked about playing Sunday, despite the injured hand that required the painkiller prescription in the first place.

This is where the NFL -- and, perhaps more relevantly, the NFL Players Assn. -- needs to step in and call a timeout.

It’s not about whether his hand is ready. It’s about his head.

The thing about the suicide report is it didn’t seem so farfetched. Why wouldn’t the attention-craving star make the ultimate scream to be noticed? And why would the medical responders feel the need to call police, and for police to quote Owens’ publicist as saying he was “depressed”?

But it is important to remember we once had a Dallas police report that said Irvin and Cowboys teammate Erik Williams had sexually assaulted a woman, the media ran with it and it turned out she had manufactured the story and lied to the cops.

If it was a suicide attempt, why would the hospital release him so quickly? And how could he be so upbeat at his news conference? Why have a news conference at all?

Now just because Owens says the suicide report isn’t true, that he was just sick and feels fine, that doesn’t mean the Cowboys should give him a helmet and send him out of the tunnel Sunday.

They wouldn’t let him play with that hand injury unless the medical staff gave him clearance. Why not keep the same requirements for his mind?

But that’s not the thinking in the NFL. I still remember the sneering, uncaring comments in the Oakland locker room after Super Bowl XXXVII, when the Raiders were far more upset about what center Barrett Robbins’ late-night binge had done to their chances of winning the game than what it meant for his mental health.

When Owens played in San Francisco, the 49ers tried to arrange psychological help for him, Bill Walsh said. “Whether he went forward with it, none of us will ever know,” Walsh told The Times’ Sam Farmer.

Would they just leave it up to Owens to get treatment for a sprained ankle? Doubt it.

All of these attitude episodes have followed Owens from San Francisco to Philadelphia and now Dallas. For a change, it would help if T.O. stood for Time Off, away from a team that doesn’t care about him, for long enough to find out how much he truly cares about himself.

J.A. Adande can be reached at j.a.adande@latimes.com. To read more by Adande, go to latimes.com/adandeblog.