Fresh blood

It's halftime of the Dallas/Carolina game and Tony Romo is one of the story lines they're pushing from the broadcast booth.

For the non-football junkies, Romo has taken over as the starting quarterback in Big D after two seasons of Drew Bledsoe residing there as the top stopgap solution for the Cowboys.

Following the retirement of Troy Aikman, there's been a bit of a revolving door in the Lone Star State and Bledsoe is just the latest victim there.

That's not what has me thinking, though.

I just can't imagine being the big dog for years and then having to get used to the idea of being benched and essentially knowing that your career - and to a greater extent, your identity - is drawing to a close.

With few exceptions, quarterbacks and other athletes are simply not useful at some point in their careers and are dumped without much afterthought. Except for the superstars who make their way through the league and are kept on past their expiration dates, most simply fade away, replaced by a younger player with a stronger arm or livelier legs.

Contrast this against the jobs most of us settle into. You keep working and keep learning and eventually become a bigger asset to your organization on the day of your retirement than you were on the day of your hiring.

Teachers, accountants and salepeople all gather knowledge and skill sets that are built upon and added to as they progress and in more cases than not, they become more valuable as they pile on the years.

It has to be somewhat jarring to know that you peak fairly early as an athlete and after a few good years you can spend all your time studying, but your body will eventually betray you.

So, I'm now watching Bledsoe ride the pine and hang on to a clipboard for Bill Parcels, but it's exactly how things are supposed to be. Planned obsolescence is a part of the game, but it can't be any easier to take when it happens on an individual basis. I don't even have a particular attatchment to the guy and it's still pretty interesting to watch.

Imagine being the best athlete at your grammar school with a cannon arm in third grade, picked to be the all-time quarterback in playground games at recess, taking over the high school team as a sophomore, having colleges break down your door to get you to take a free diploma from their school, being a Top 5 pick and making a splash in the NFL.

You don't even have to be an NFL starter to follow that career arc - even the last guy on the roster was probably the best player his county ever produced, and definitely the best player ever to play at his high school.

Now, you're blog fodder for disgruntled fans and angry talk radio callers - people make a living making fun of you on ESPN and the general consensus is that your team is better off with you sitting on the sidelines.

That has to be harsh to wake up one morning and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the naysayers are right and that you're on borrowed time as the alpha dog. The game isn't about to stop and you only have years ahead of empty Sundays, watching the next big thing do your old job.

Some people really bash away on athletes who take too long to leave or are always around the game after retirement, but it has to be very difficult to walk away from it cold turkey.

Let's face it, there is only so much space in a broadcast booth to stash away the league's alumni.

(Photo from ProFootballHoF.com)