Thurman Thomas sits in front of his television. “Edgerrin James will have to shoulder the load today in order for the Colts to win their first playoff game under Jim Mora,” says long-time member of the Fox pre-game show Howie Long. Thomas thinks for a second and is convinced the irony of the statement is not meant to bring up any past memories. It’s been ten years since Thomas has walked onto the football field in an NFL uniform. Ten years since his retirement went unnoticed after he played his last two years in Miami. Ten years since Thomas gave up his quest for a NFL Championship.
Thomas has enough of the pre-game show and walks outside where his neighbor’s kids are playing football. “Mr. Thomas, how long did it take you to win a Super Bowl,” asks one of them. Thomas takes a breath and then says, “I never won one.” The bottomless pit within his stomach feels emptier than before. “Why not?” quips the other kid. “It’s part of life,” Thomas replies. He turns around, ever muscle in his body cringing. “Thurman, they’re just kids,” he thinks to himself and walks away.
Thomas was never guilty of not winning games, just of not winning a Super Bowl. He did, however, lose three. Unfortunately, that’s all people will remember about “Thermal” Thomas. Not his eight consecutive 1,000+ yard rushing seasons. Not his two straight 2,000+ total yards seasons. Thomas will be labeled a loser. He will have an “L” on his forehead that can’t be erased.
Sunday’s games are over and Thomas turns on ESPN. His “partner in crime” Jim Kelly is talking about the league’s opening wild-card games. “It’s just another tough loss for Peyton Manning and Edgerrin James. They will never forget this one,” says Kelly. Thomas nods, then feels that lump in his throat begin to grow. Every night before he goes to sleep, the infamous name “Scott Norwood” enters his mind. The kicker who missed a field goal which could have ended all of Thomas’ misery. A kicker who could have given Thomas an NFL championship, a definite entrance into the Hall of Fame, and a life easier to live. However, life is unkind to too many in this world.
Thomas thinks to himself about his retirement. “Why did I end my career in Miami when I could have retired earlier on in Buffalo?” Thomas asks himself. Although `technically’ ending his career in Buffalo, he spent two injury-riddled and hopeless seasons in Miami. Thomas dropped off of the football map when he signed with the Dolphins. If he had chosen to retire a Bill, perhaps fans would have realized what a great football player was leaving the game. Instead, two years later, fans forgot of Thomas’ career in the NFL and focused on the future ones of younger, quicker running backs.
After all, fans want to see the flashy plays. They don’t want to see a grinder who does the job. They don’t want to see a team player. Two Thurman Thomases could never equal a Randy Moss. Just like that, Thomas was gone quicker than a disappearing David Copperfield.
Is it fair that the former Pro-Bowler will be labeled a failure? No. However, true football fans will remember Thomas not as a loser, but one who just fell a field goal short. After all, Thomas himself did not miss the kick. Real fans will remember him for his ability to not just run the football, but to catch it as well. Fans will remember the steam coming off Thomas’ bald head in sub-20 degree weather at Ralph Wilson Stadium. Most of all, Thomas will be remembered for that smile. A smile which was maintained throughout times of defeat. It lingers not as the sign of a loser, but of a true athlete.
Thomas wrestles with himself as he tries to go to sleep. He replays every play of every Super Bowl over in head. “That’s life,” he says to himself. Ease presides over the former back. It’s just another day for Thurman Thomas.