No Disguise Can Hide Dickerson
Went to a Halloween party the other night. I wore an Eric Dickerson costume.
What an outfit. It’s easy and cheap, just like Dickerson himself. All you do is buy a pair of swim goggles and a football jersey with No. 29 on it. Serious Dickerson imitators, of course, borrow the accessories . . . and never return them.
But looking like Dickerson doesn’t guarantee costume success. You must be Dickerson. Think of it as holiday method acting: Become Eric. Think Eric. Live Eric.
A personality profile of The Mouth That Bored, the former Ram and current dolt, I mean, Colt:
Favorite fruit--sour grapes.
Favorite beverage--whine.
Favorite person--me, myself, I.
Favorite charity--none.
Favorite movie--The Wizard of Oz. (He likes all the little dwarfs.)
Favorite place to visit--the bank.
Beginning to lock in on the character? You’ll be surprised how well it complements the costume and creates that certain Dickersonian aura.
Do what I did when I arrived at the party: Complain. A lot.
Complain about how far away you had to park. Complain about the hors d’oeuvres. Complain about the $1.30 you had to chip in for the keg. Be entertaining and annoying at the same time. Hold grudges. If someone accidentally spills some fondue on your cleats, mention that the cleats are ruined, that they’ll cost 10s of dollars to replace, that they were family heirlooms. Then, after the person has apologized profusely, dump a ladle of the fondue on their head.
About the only negative I can think of is the stomach factor. Turns out people can only stomach Dickerson clones for about an hour. Then it’s out the door you go. Who can blame them?
An evening in Dickerson garb teaches you about the man himself. By mimicking him, you, in some small sense, understand him.
For instance, I think I’ve finally figured out what makes Dickerson run: insecurity, with a paranoia chaser. Has to be. Nobody says what Dickerson said Sunday on an NBC pregame show without a serious case of the over-the-shoulders.
Dickerson didn’t backstab; you do that with stilettos. Instead, he pulled out a machete and hacked away as if he were clearing a path through an Amazon rain forest.
That first slash you heard was running back Greg Bell going down.
“You know, that little dwarf should learn one thing--he is not my caliber, to be honest,” Dickerson said.
True. Bell couldn’t hold Dickerson’s money belt if it came to judging a person by inherent talent. Dickerson has few, if any, peers on the playing field. He proved that Monday night with 4 touchdowns against the Denver Broncos. Think run and you think Dickerson.
The problem is, think spiteful jerk and you also think of, ta-da, Dickerson. He questioned Charles White’s accomplishments last season as White bullied his way to the National Football League rushing title. Rather than offer congratulations, Dickerson offered ill will. Rather than extend a handshake, Dickerson stuck his palms in his pocket.
This year he targets Bell, who, as best as anyone can tell, did nothing more than follow instructions and report to Anaheim as part of the Dickerson trade package in 1987. Since then, Bell, an afterthought in the original deal, has won a place on the roster, earned a spot in the starting lineup, kept the Ram running game in fine health and gained 746 yards.
Dickerson’s response? “If Greg Bell came here or if I went back to the Rams, he would sit on the bench behind me the rest of his career,” he said.
Yes, well, so much for the Golden Rule.
And about that “little dwarf” line. Not only is it insensitive, but it’s redundant. What happens if Manute Bol angers Dickerson one day?
Headline:
Dickerson to Bol: ‘I Hate You Tall Giant’ There were other comments, one more unfortunate than the other. Dickerson said that quarterback Jim Everett “never was a friend of mine.” He said that if given the choice between saving a drowning Colt Coach Ron Meyer or Ram Coach John Robinson, Robinson would be the one trying to swim for shore. He said the Rams were trying to “damage or severely ruin” his career by trading him to Indianapolis.
With that, his machete dull, his mouth exhausted, Dickerson ended the conversation.
First things first.
Dickerson and Everett were never friends . . .
True. So what? The two were teammates, not pen pals. Dickerson wasn’t crazy about Everett’s take-charge attitude during the quarterback’s early days with the team. He felt that Everett first needed to prove himself before acting like a team leader.
Everett, through moderately veiled comments made since the trade, apparently didn’t regard Dickerson as the consummate team player.
What we have here is a draw, one best left untouched. Instead, Dickerson can’t resist a final sucker punch.
Dickerson would rescue Meyer, not Robinson . . .
Makes sense to me. All Robinson did was make Dickerson the centerpiece of his offense for almost 5 years.
The Rams tried to damage or ruin Dickerson’s career . . .
Sure they did. That’s why Dickerson is making more money than almost anyone in the league. That’s why they reunited him with his college coach. That’s why they rid themselves of the best running back in the game.
Maybe some day Dickerson will resolve his insecurities. Then maybe he’ll agree to the one interview I’d pay to see, the one where he says, “I’m sorry.”
