Maurice Clarett had it all — emphasis on the "had."
Clarett had a scholarship. He earned a full ride to The Ohio State University after being named the USA Today Offensive High School Player of the Year.
After starting the summer third on the depth chart due to injuries to older players, he managed to crack the starting lineup in his first game, becoming the first freshman running back to start at OSU since 1943. Clarett ran for 175 yards and three touchdowns and never looked back, maintaining a stranglehold on the position the rest of the year, gaining more than 1,300 yards total offense and scoring 18 touchdowns despite missing two games.
Clarett had fame. He was on an ESPN: The Magazine cover before most kids could afford a subscription and was the LeBron James before LeBron hit the scene. Clarett led the underdog Buckeyes to the national championship game, that classic Fiesta Bowl against Miami in the greatest college football game of all time.
In that game, Clarett scored the game-winning touchdown in overtime. The two main subjects of water-cooler conversation the next day: "What a flippin' game!" and "Will Maurice Clarett go pro?"
Clarett had fortune. At least he had it within his grasp. He was the No. 1 NFL prospect on the college radar, guaranteed a $25 million contract as soon as he reached the NFL Draft. And he planned to reach it soon.
In that cover issue of ESPN: The Magazine, Clarett declared that he believed himself fit to enter the upcoming NFL Draft, so he began to take on the NFL rule designating that a player be three years removed from high school. Most NFL and legal mumbo-jumbo-ers said he would win. He would get picked first, and he was good as gold.
Today, Clarett, courtesy of some bad luck, terrible decisions and quite possibly history's worst case of an overactive sense of entitlement, is not fighting off tacklers, agents or investors at all, but instead fighting to stay out of prison and keep his day-to-day freedom.
You can call Clarett a lot of things. Greedy, selfish, hasty, ill-informed … and they are all accurate to some degree.
But what seems to be the tragic flaw of the former hero-in-the-making wasn't really what he said or what he did, but to whom he listened. Somewhere along the line, Clarett was told that he was great — so great that he was deserving of the likes of Bo Jackson, Herschel Walker and O.J. Simpson. So great that just like Tony Montana, the world was his. And that sense of entitlement that Clarett has carried with him has led him to, figuratively, a very similar end.
Clarett was illegally given a car by a dealership and had it stolen. He told police there was $10,000 worth of stuff in the car (there wasn't) and filed a false police report. The NCAA declared him ineligible for the year, and Clarett reacted by declaring for the NFL Draft, challenging the rule.
Those who told Clarett he would win were wrong. Clarett lost and lost hard. Ohio State disowned him, the NFL couldn't take him and he was stuck in limbo, where he stayed until finally being drafted by the Denver Broncos this past summer, two years after playing his last game. By that point, Clarett was out of shape and off the scope of most of the same GMs who had drooled over him earlier.
Bronco veterans said that Clarett came with an unrivaled air of arrogance for a third-round pick who was slow (by NFL standards) and had a lot to learn (by everybody's standards). He was cut before they had time to give him a number and has since fallen off the map.
That is, until last week, when he attempted to rob two people at gunpoint in an alley behind a bar. I suppose he thought he was just collecting on the money those people should have been paying to watch him play.
And who told Clarett that he was this prodigy, a star that transcended 60 years of collegiate-NFL history and tradition? Us. You, me, the media — all of us. In the highlight-reel-driven world that sports has evolved into, Clarett was the king of the 23-second recap and the guy for whom Dan Patrick and Stuart Scott would save their best one-liners. Clarett was hyped up as being the most NFL-ready freshman in the history of the sport. The truth? He never was NFL ready, then or now. But you know what they say: "Don't buy into the hype." Clarett bought into it.
Maurice Clarett had it all. Now it looks like he has little more than time — time to sit and think about a promise and a check that will never come.
Dave is a senior double majoring in English and journalism. Thoughts, comments, or questions regarding the 1994 Miami Dolphins can be directed to [email protected].
