It's time Irvin got the Canton call
Jean-Jacques Taylor: It's time Irvin got the Canton call
PLANTATION, Fla. – Michael Irvin calls his mama every day. Sometimes, twice a day.
If he doesn't, he knows she'll be calling. And when Mama Pearl phones, she's not interested in hearing about how Michael's doing from anyone but him.
"There's something about a child's voice that a mother can tell whether her child is OK," Mama Pearl said from the living room of the blue and gray stucco home in a tidy middle-class neighborhood.
"I need to hear his voice."
These days, Mama Pearl said Michael's voice sounds strong, even though it's a little hoarse from his heavy workload this week as an ESPN analyst. It resonates confidence. That hasn't always been the case.
We all know why.
This morning, it's Michael who'll be anxiously awaiting a phone call that grants him football immortality by informing him that he's been admitted to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Mama Pearl shares a special bond with Michael, the 13th of her 15 children. Perhaps it's because she sees so much of her husband, Walter, in her son.
She sees Walter in Michael's gait. And his face. And his desire to provide for his family. As he lay on his deathbed before Michael's senior year of high school, Walter promised his wife that Michael would take care of her.
"Pearl, you're not going to have to worry about anything. Michael is going to the Dallas Cowboys," Walter Irvin, a Cowboys fan who loved Bob Hayes and Tony Dorsett, told his wife.
Of course, Mama Pearl didn't reveal her husband's words to Michael until much later. No need to burden a child. Still, Michael has always seemingly understood his purpose. There was the time he ran into the house to grab a glass of milk before returning to his football game and noticed Mama Pearl cleaning handprints off the walls.
"Mama," he said, "one day you're not going to have to wash the walls. I'm going to get you your dream house."
Or the evening, Mama Pearl opened the refrigerator and stared at its emptiness. She prayed aloud, for God to give her the strength and ability to feed her children. Michael heard her plea.
"Mama, that's why I work so hard," he said
See, Michael knew he had to make it as a professional athlete. One day of laying concrete with his father and brother convinced Michael that he didn't want to work for a living. Football was his way – his family's way – to a better life.
It's the reason he practiced each day with Super Bowl intensity. Ask any of his coaches, and they'll tell you Michael was always among the first to arrive and the last to leave the practice field.
If Michael Irvin isn't a Hall of Fame receiver, one doesn't exist.
And the self-righteous members of the committee who have ignored their own by-laws and refused to vote for him each of the last two years because they abhor his off-the-field activities should lose their role in the process.
"It has been a quiet year," said Don Irvin, Michael's brother. "He was a big part of the Dallas Cowboys winning three Super Bowl rings. L.T. (Lawrence Taylor) went in. There's no reason Michael shouldn't be in."
Don is biased, but he speaks the truth.
Michael put up numbers – 750 catches, 11,904 yards and 65 touchdowns – in a 12-year career that ended prematurely because of a neck injury suffered while running one of his trademark slant patterns in Philadelphia.
He broke nearly every significant receiving record in franchise history, impressive considering Bob Hayes, Drew Pearson and Tony Hill owned those records.
More important, Irvin served as the Cowboys' emotional leader. Don't underestimate the importance of that, because Troy Aikman didn't have the personality to pull it off and Emmitt led more by example than words.
Irvin connected with everyone on the roster.
He was the one who shared his trade secrets with backups in the whirlpool after practice or while shooting pool at the Cowboys' Café. He partied and ate many a home-cooked meal with his lesser-known teammates.
Why? Because in the fourth quarter of a tight game, Irvin would go to those teammates no matter what side of the ball they were on and remind them of how he had been there for them and how they needed to pay him back by producing for the team.
It's time for Michael to join Troy Aikman as the second player from the Cowboys' Jerry Jones era to don a yellow jacket, have a bronze bust created and deliver an emotional speech in Canton, Ohio, before thousands of fans wearing No. 88 jerseys.
"The way he played on that field, he belongs in the Hall of Fame," Mama Pearl said. "I hope they don't wait until he's gone. Give him his flowers while he can still smell them."
George Smith, Michael's high school coach, remembers a quiet kid who didn't become the flamboyant "Playmaker" until he became a star at Miami. Smith's office walls are covered with a collage of posters, autographed photos from former players and laminated newspaper articles from more than 30 years as one of Florida's most successful football coaches.
Still, the photos of Irvin stand out. There's a poster from a grinning Irvin, then at Miami, on Smith's office door. A black-and-white 8-by-10 of Irvin catching a pass in a Cowboys' uniform is taped to the wall near another photo of Irvin hugging Smith a few days after signing a contract with the Cowboys.
A large picture of Irvin celebrating after a touchdown at Miami is on adjacent wall and a Cowboys' helmet sits atop a desk next to a copier.
Smith has coached several terrific players. Sixteen of his players this season will sign letters-of-intent to play at Division I schools. Irvin remains one of his favorites.
"He's funny, and he doesn't take himself too seriously. He's not a big shot. They're not all like Mike," Smith said. "I've been disappointed, but never ashamed of Michael."
The drugs. The women. The scandals. The suspension. "Do you know who I am?" Michael's off-the-field issues have been well-chronicled. Mama Pearl doesn't run from the truth no matter how much hurt, embarrassment and disappointment they have caused.
"None of us are perfect," Mama Pearl said. "All of us have failed, but when it happens, you don't wallow in it. You get up and try again. That's what I've taught my children.
"What's for you, you're going to get. You just have to get it in God's time."
She hopes that time is now.
PLANTATION, Fla. – Michael Irvin calls his mama every day. Sometimes, twice a day.
If he doesn't, he knows she'll be calling. And when Mama Pearl phones, she's not interested in hearing about how Michael's doing from anyone but him.
"There's something about a child's voice that a mother can tell whether her child is OK," Mama Pearl said from the living room of the blue and gray stucco home in a tidy middle-class neighborhood.
"I need to hear his voice."
These days, Mama Pearl said Michael's voice sounds strong, even though it's a little hoarse from his heavy workload this week as an ESPN analyst. It resonates confidence. That hasn't always been the case.
We all know why.
This morning, it's Michael who'll be anxiously awaiting a phone call that grants him football immortality by informing him that he's been admitted to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Mama Pearl shares a special bond with Michael, the 13th of her 15 children. Perhaps it's because she sees so much of her husband, Walter, in her son.
She sees Walter in Michael's gait. And his face. And his desire to provide for his family. As he lay on his deathbed before Michael's senior year of high school, Walter promised his wife that Michael would take care of her.
"Pearl, you're not going to have to worry about anything. Michael is going to the Dallas Cowboys," Walter Irvin, a Cowboys fan who loved Bob Hayes and Tony Dorsett, told his wife.
Of course, Mama Pearl didn't reveal her husband's words to Michael until much later. No need to burden a child. Still, Michael has always seemingly understood his purpose. There was the time he ran into the house to grab a glass of milk before returning to his football game and noticed Mama Pearl cleaning handprints off the walls.
"Mama," he said, "one day you're not going to have to wash the walls. I'm going to get you your dream house."
Or the evening, Mama Pearl opened the refrigerator and stared at its emptiness. She prayed aloud, for God to give her the strength and ability to feed her children. Michael heard her plea.
"Mama, that's why I work so hard," he said
See, Michael knew he had to make it as a professional athlete. One day of laying concrete with his father and brother convinced Michael that he didn't want to work for a living. Football was his way – his family's way – to a better life.
It's the reason he practiced each day with Super Bowl intensity. Ask any of his coaches, and they'll tell you Michael was always among the first to arrive and the last to leave the practice field.
If Michael Irvin isn't a Hall of Fame receiver, one doesn't exist.
And the self-righteous members of the committee who have ignored their own by-laws and refused to vote for him each of the last two years because they abhor his off-the-field activities should lose their role in the process.
"It has been a quiet year," said Don Irvin, Michael's brother. "He was a big part of the Dallas Cowboys winning three Super Bowl rings. L.T. (Lawrence Taylor) went in. There's no reason Michael shouldn't be in."
Don is biased, but he speaks the truth.
Michael put up numbers – 750 catches, 11,904 yards and 65 touchdowns – in a 12-year career that ended prematurely because of a neck injury suffered while running one of his trademark slant patterns in Philadelphia.
He broke nearly every significant receiving record in franchise history, impressive considering Bob Hayes, Drew Pearson and Tony Hill owned those records.
More important, Irvin served as the Cowboys' emotional leader. Don't underestimate the importance of that, because Troy Aikman didn't have the personality to pull it off and Emmitt led more by example than words.
Irvin connected with everyone on the roster.
He was the one who shared his trade secrets with backups in the whirlpool after practice or while shooting pool at the Cowboys' Café. He partied and ate many a home-cooked meal with his lesser-known teammates.
Why? Because in the fourth quarter of a tight game, Irvin would go to those teammates no matter what side of the ball they were on and remind them of how he had been there for them and how they needed to pay him back by producing for the team.
It's time for Michael to join Troy Aikman as the second player from the Cowboys' Jerry Jones era to don a yellow jacket, have a bronze bust created and deliver an emotional speech in Canton, Ohio, before thousands of fans wearing No. 88 jerseys.
"The way he played on that field, he belongs in the Hall of Fame," Mama Pearl said. "I hope they don't wait until he's gone. Give him his flowers while he can still smell them."
George Smith, Michael's high school coach, remembers a quiet kid who didn't become the flamboyant "Playmaker" until he became a star at Miami. Smith's office walls are covered with a collage of posters, autographed photos from former players and laminated newspaper articles from more than 30 years as one of Florida's most successful football coaches.
Still, the photos of Irvin stand out. There's a poster from a grinning Irvin, then at Miami, on Smith's office door. A black-and-white 8-by-10 of Irvin catching a pass in a Cowboys' uniform is taped to the wall near another photo of Irvin hugging Smith a few days after signing a contract with the Cowboys.
A large picture of Irvin celebrating after a touchdown at Miami is on adjacent wall and a Cowboys' helmet sits atop a desk next to a copier.
Smith has coached several terrific players. Sixteen of his players this season will sign letters-of-intent to play at Division I schools. Irvin remains one of his favorites.
"He's funny, and he doesn't take himself too seriously. He's not a big shot. They're not all like Mike," Smith said. "I've been disappointed, but never ashamed of Michael."
The drugs. The women. The scandals. The suspension. "Do you know who I am?" Michael's off-the-field issues have been well-chronicled. Mama Pearl doesn't run from the truth no matter how much hurt, embarrassment and disappointment they have caused.
"None of us are perfect," Mama Pearl said. "All of us have failed, but when it happens, you don't wallow in it. You get up and try again. That's what I've taught my children.
"What's for you, you're going to get. You just have to get it in God's time."
She hopes that time is now.
posted by The Gryphon at 9:13 AM
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