CHARLOTTE, N.C. _ Picture this:
Every day in Charlotte, your name reverberates across radio waves. It carries through electric wires, and the wind. Your face is plastered on every TV news show, your worth stamped out in tiny ink letters in the pages of this very publication. Everything from your shoes to your hair to the color of your shirt is scrutinized. Criticized. Questioned. And then once a week, the entire city gathers at your place. People put their judgments aside long enough to see if you'll succeed or fail, waiting to issue their own verdict.
Jazz music and jerseys, Bud Lights and bellowing cheers. Or boos.
You snatched the attention of the nation's largest sports league the first day you stepped on a field. Commanded a national spotlight your city never had before. You set records and earned the NFL's highest individual honor.
Then you sprain an ankle. Fracture a rib. Break your back in a car crash. Tear your rotator cuff. Get concussed. Re-aggravate your shoulder, and go back under the knife.
Before you know it, you're 30 and still searching for the only professional achievement you've ever wanted.
What's your legacy?
