For a scant period of time, perhaps a minute or two, the Kansas City Chiefs knew they had an unfathomable problem on their hands with Jovan Belcher.
You know the details. Minutes after shooting the mother of his three month old child, Belcher arrived at the Chiefs complex. Once there he bizarrely thanked the coach and general manager for their support, while holding a handgun. Seconds later he was dead. He hid behind a car. Pointed the gun at his head. Pulled the trigger. Ended his life.
The shootings ignited a tidal wave if reaction. Fans. Media. Teammates. We all had something to say.
I didn’t think the Chiefs should play the next day. They did and won.
Bob Costas railed against gun ownership. He was vilified.
College teammates described him as a caring person. Or at least that’s what they said.
By next weekend will it still be news? Still be a tragedy? For me, yes. I am such a fan, that I am deluded in believing that “making” the NFL or CFL or NBA would provide a person with eternal happiness. I am such a fan, that I believe playing with my wee daughter and then going off to practice football on a Saturday must define heaven. I am such a fan, I can’t imagine what Belcher would have to argue about with his girlfriend.
Of course I am wrong. OJ Simpson, Jerry Sandusky, Art Schlichter, have all proven me wrong. High profile people are messed up.
But still this thing drives me crazy. Did the Chiefs have any warning? Did Belcher’s college issues not surface when they signed him?