This Wednesday is for Wayne

Too often we get so wrapped up in the utter nonsense of sports “news” today (me included), that we fail to take time to appreciate the things (or players) that make sports great. When I first started this thing a few months ago, I wanted to talk more about those who played the game the right way…the games that made it worth tuning in each weekend…the beauty of the bunt, the lost art of the free throw…the good, but oft-overlooked stuff.

But, alas, I’ve too frequently gotten sucked into the sorry commentary of sexually-deviant, gun-toting, crybaby athletes (and coaches, GMs and owners), among others topics that probably don’t warrant any proactive discussion. Not today. Today is an ode to an old-school warrior. Wednesday is for Wayne.

This Sunday the New York Jets will play the Miami Dolphins at Giants Stadium. They will also honor #80, Wayne Chrebet.

Chrebet’s story is fairly well-known, particularly among big-time sports fans, but it warrants repeating. In fact, it demands repeating. It demands repeating to rookies who are looking for a model of how to conduct themselves as professionals. It demands repeating to those young athletes who’ve been told they’re too slow or too small to make it. It demands repeating to those primadonna receivers who sometimes forget to run out a pattern full speed, get alligator arms or seem otherwise allergic to going over the middle.

On Sunday, thousands will don their #80 jerseys and salute Wayne. A Jersey kid who went undrafted out of Hofstra and managed to get himself a tryout. The guy who was kept out of the Jets facility by a security guard who didn’t buy that he was a member of the team. The 5-10, 188-pounder who went on to catch 580 balls and currently stands second on the all-time Jets receiving list.

Chrebet did a lot of things that are far from common in the world of professional sports circa 2007. Chrebet spent his entire 11-year career with the green-and-white. He played through pain, including who-knows-how-many concussions. He rarely complained. He was a presence in the community off-the-field and eventually came to be know as “Mr. Third Down” for his on-field penchant for getting clutch first downs time and again.

Chrebet was neither the fastest, the biggest nor the most physically gifted. He had sick hands, and a sicker work ethic. You rarely saw Chrebet with gloves, fancy armbands or long spandex compression shirts. He was about catching balls and helping his team win. He played the game hard, and he was beloved by millions of Jets fans, a fact that was more-than-apparent for anyone who traveled to the Meadowlands, or any Jets game, over the past decade (Chrebet, at one point, had one of the top five-selling jerseys in the NFL).

Hopefully, the ceremonies for Wayne can help spark the Jets on Sunday afternoon. More importantly, let’s I hope this small recognition causes some of us to stop, think and appreciate somebody who did it the right way.

PS: In other news, this is my worst nightmare, the Yankees have me tied to the bed and the Mets are playing tummysticks. Brutal.