I was 17 years old, a senior in high school and I suppose I was a little bit naïve. It was January 4th, 2006, and when long-time ABC broadcaster Keith Jackson said it, I knew I would remember it forever.
“4th and five … the National Championship on the line right here … HE’S GOING FOR THE CORNE-E-R …HE’S GOT IT! … VINCE! YOUNG! SCORES!â€
I ran around my living room elated and overwhelmed with so much happiness and joy I could hardly think straight.
I had seen it before; Vince Young doing things that mirror the stories from your favorite super-hero’s comic book.  Down 38-26 with just six minutes to play; Pow! Whiff! Zoom! In-Vince-able is here to save the day! It was almost inhumanly possible at times. But he did it, for the second-straight year I might add, this time for the school’s first National Title in 35 years.
Of course, V-Y didn’t do it all by himself and as any Texas fan would tell you it was actually a huge defensive stop late in the fourth quarter on fourth and two that might resonate more when you ask them to reflect on the 2006 National Title game.
The point is: I never thought we would be sitting here seven years later watching NFL games without Vince Young on an active roster. But, like I said, I was naïve. That doesn’t mean I was fooled by V-Y’s talents back in college; but rather, that maybe I have been fooled by them in the NFL.
His rookie season was almost as magical as that national title game. Five game-winning drives, ultimately leading the Titans to a playoff appearance, Young’s first Pro Bowl and the offensive rookie of the year. It almost seemed too good to be true. And as the old saying goes, when that’s the case, it usually is too good to be true.
Vince, if you ever come across this article, or if any of the bleeding hearts that will forever insist you are still as good as any of them, I’ll start by saying I don’t know you personally. As a life-long Texas fan I hope you understand that what you did on the field for the Longhorns will always be remembered and, almost certainly, never re-duplicated.
But, I’m not here to write my praises in 1,000 words. I’m here to accept the unfortunate truth about your career; both on and off the field.
Vince, you lost it. No, not your mind—I can’t stand it when people say that about anyone. Especially a father and a self-proclaimed family man—but I do know that on the field you lost it and off the field you lost yourself.
Remember the national title game when you and the team were warming up? Do you remember that, Vince? Dancing around, bouncing from teammate to teammate singing and getting hype; that’s you, Vince. That’s the “you†you lost and the repercussions of that downfall are as bad as I’ve ever seen.
I know as well as any other person that Jeff Fisher never—and I mean never—believed in you and supported you the way Mack Brown did. I know Brown’s support was a big part of your success. In every loss and every win he had his arm around you feeding your psyche and your confidence one word at a time. When that same person is no longer there every day to keep you grounded, you become your own support system. Talking to yourself, boosting your own ego and in result becoming something you never intended to be; your own worst enemy.
The rumors were hard to believe, but, as the years have passed and the incidents have accumulated they are as believable as anything.
Buying out 90% of the seats on commercial planes so that you may ride without the “hassle†of other passengers, trips to T.G.I Friday’s and Dave and Buster’s with the entire offense picking up the bill sometimes in upwards of $6,000. The infamous strip-club brawl and, of course, who could forget that night in 2008 where the Nashville police met you at the Titans facility after your mother called you in concerned and afraid?
Am I digging too deep if I go as far as saying it’s more serious than you want to portray when your own mother simply says that you were “hurting inside and out.�
You see, Vince, what had happened was, in your own mind, you became bigger than you could have ever fathomed and when the response from the fans, the media and your head coach weren’t in agreement with this persona your ego had sworn you to, it hit the fan.
In the time between being benched in Tennessee, released, signed by the Eagles, released and then released two more times by two other teams before the regular season ever started it just got worse. Reports that your guaranteed $34 million dollars from your monster rookie contract had been mishandled, whether it is because of faulty investments or not, were just the tip of the iceberg.
All you had to do was stick to the basics and be true to yourself. Instead, you became the stereotypical pro athlete.
So while you work and work and work even harder to get back—and I truly know that you have probably worked harder than ever—It’s just a little too late, Vince. Since your benching in 2010 that later led to your release, there have been 47 starting QB’s in the NFL, 32 of which were either benched, released or signed again by another team. And yet, you have not received serious offer to be a starting QB.
It got worse on Thursday when reports that the St. Louis Rams, coached by former Titans coach Jeff Fisher, allegedly reached out to the retired Brett Favre for his services. But, yet and still, you are at home tweeting about how ready you are and doing interviews stating that you have no idea why you aren’t in the NFL.
Because when you had the opportunity to prove yourself as a viable quarterback in the NFL you proved everyone right by trying so hard to prove everyone wrong. Vince, you never had to prove anything to anyone.
It’s time. It’s time now more than ever to turn the page and put playing football behind you. You’re no idiot, Vince. There are far worse you could have done than the given examples; your opportunities after football are endless.
I know what it’s like to soul search, Vince. We all do. But, I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose yourself with all the money you could ever ask for and anything you want at your fingertips misguiding you into what was almost a bottomless pit of pain and sorrow.
You’ve come back to Austin more frequently over the least season and a half. I don’t know the ideal situation for you, only you know that. As much as we fans love football, we can’t fathom what it’s like to love it as much as those who have played. But it’s time to walk away.
Come home, Vince. Much like a wise man once said; come home to Texas, all the way to Austin.
