On the Mark: T.O.'s agent gets one over on fans

BasX · Mar 10, 2009

A friend called, stammering with anger.

"That, that ... guy."

He wasn't talking about Terrell Owens so much as the man who appeared, literally and metaphorically, at his side. I concede my pal's point. In this economy, there is no more contemptible creature than the self-styled super-agent. Certainly, Owens' guy fits the bill. "A Shark Never Sleeps" — the first volume in Drew Rosenhaus' autobiographical canon — was published in 1997, when the man described in the subtitle as "the NFL's most ruthless agent" was just 31. The cover photo features Rosenhaus with stacks of money.

"This can't be happening," said my friend. "I mean, in the real world."

Owens' sudden signing with the Buffalo Bills was just the latest case of sports imitating pro wrestling. If Owens were the heel, then Rosenhaus is even more perfect cast in the role of the villain's valet.

T.O. may not have friends, but he keeps getting richer. (Carolyn Kaster / Associated Press)

To recap: Owens was cut last by Dallas last Wednesday. By Friday, 16 teams had declared that they had absolutely no interest in him. At that point, he didn't have mere baggage. He had cargo. What's more, it had been finally and firmly established that Owens was now on the downside of his career. He no longer achieves that vaunted "separation" with defensive backs. He's 35, and dropped 33 balls last season. Who would take a gamble on a guy like that in an economy like this?

Next thing you know, Rosenhaus is on TV talking about how he got T.O. an $800,000 raise.

And my friend, who roots devoutly for the Giants, is choking with anger. He's like a typical wrestling fan, in that he still believes, perhaps childishly, in good and evil. For about 72 hours, he had dared to be happy, thinking that T.O. and Drew Rosenhaus were at last getting their comeuppance.

But the morality play construct obscured the central fact, that Rosenhaus did great work here.

Consider what just happened with baseball's super-agent Scott Boras and Manny Ramirez, coming off a phenomenal stretch in Los Angeles. Boras failed to figure this economy. He talked big. He waited on a market that never developed. And he ended up with a two-year deal worth less than half what he sought, and much of it deferred.

By contrast, the shark didn't sleep. Unlike Boras, he gauged the market correctly. As soon as the prognosticating class declared his best known and most controversial client all but unemployable, he was preparing to go live in Buffalo.

Buffalo? you say. Actually, it makes great sense. Owens will be on his best behavior with a one-year deal. And the Bills get to matter. As the Buffalo News' Jerry Sullivan put it: "Maybe it'll blow up in the Bills' faces and they'll be the laughingstock of the league. Oh, wait a minute. They already were the joke of the NFL. So what the heck. At least in the short term, signing T.O. makes the Bills relevant again."

A good season could rescue Owens' reputation, if only for a while. Ballplayers go from villain to hero and back faster than wrestlers. T.O. could yet become the champion of a working-class town in troubled times.

Meanwhile, he'll be laughing all the way to the bank. It was only three years ago — just four days after the Eagles gave Owens his release — that Rosenhaus got him a three-year $25 million deal with the Cowboys. Then last June, Rosenhaus prevailed on Jerry Jones to give Owens — who may or may not have tried to overdose on hydrocodone — a four-year, $34 million extension, with a $12.9 million bonus. Now Rosenhaus gets him another raise in Buffalo.

It's not what my friend the Giants fan was hoping for. This is the real world, after all. Still, I didn't have the heart to remind him that Rosenhaus represents that other miserable heel, Plaxico Burress.

On the Mark

Glory Days of the Big East. Glory Days of hoops fashion. (Special to FOXSports.com)

Twenty-four years after Chris Mullin and Patrick Ewing met to decide the Big East championship at Madison Square Garden, St. John's and Georgetown square off yet again in the conference tournament.

Only this time they're seeded 12th and 13th, and tipoff is 2 p.m. on a Tuesday.

So tell me again how this is a banner year for the Big East?

Smartest person in sports?

Easy. That's the guy in Vegas holding a winning ticket for a baseball game between Holland and the Dominican.

Barry Zito. Jason Schmidt. Andruw Jones.

Compared to A-Rod's spin doctors, they're all underpaid.

Sportswriters are worried for the Yankees without A-Rod.

I'm more worried for the sportswriters.

Are we sure Paris wasn't the girl Barkley was driving to see? (Michael Kappeler / Getty Images)

Just as I'm starting to feel a little better about the criminal justice system, it occurs to me that Charles Barkley did more time than Paris Hilton.

Actually, it's even money he'll do more time than Bernie Madoff.

Bracketology? Is that, like, instead of therapy?

I see that Dick Vitale is pushing Bobby Hurley Sr. for the Hall of Fame.

Funny, I kind of remember reading that somewhere.

The iPod experience would be better if only you could download liner notes.

The kid editing this column thinks liner notes could've helped him make the honor roll.

And the Rhodes Scholar next to him thinks it's something you can smoke.

When, exactly, did Matt Cassel become a lock for Canton?

Show me a good fighter, any good fighter, and I'll show you a guy who made the most of a tragic event.

Still, even by the standards of these motivational cataclysms, Manny Pacquiao's stands alone.

My dad ate my dog?

Now that's original.
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On the Mark: T.O.'s agent gets one over on fans

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