NFL/MLB Postseason Open Thread: When stars turn edition

Mike Tanier has a good column explaining the organizational problems that arise when trying to determine the moment when a star QB becomes more trouble than they’re worth. Starting with Aaron Rodgers, who may not be there yet but the signs are troubling, and the GOAT who made what might be an ill-advised comeback:

Rodgers doesn’t hate pre-snap motion. Rodgers hates being told what to do. And he loves telling us so in his ever-so-subtle, passive-aggressive way. The Packers can’t score enough points, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s because of a thing the head coach/general manager/authority figure is doing wrong!

Brady, meanwhile, has entered the final act of Citizen Kane, wandering around an empty Xanadu and scowling at the help. Some readers hate Walkthrough’s little spitballs at Brady’s marital issues, because heaven forbid we poke fun at the internationally reported foibles of powerful individuals who have profited heavily from branding themselves as superior-to-thee lifestyle-expert demigods.

Whatever. Brady chose career over family, and if he finds fulfillment along that path he’ll be the first.

The Buccaneers are now a therapeutic environment for Brady’s misplaced emotions: he can take time off when he needs to and scream at whomever he likes without consequences, because who are we (or teammates or coaches or management) to question the unassailable Tom Brady? Fortunately, the Bucs will still win the NFC South because the Saints paid near-mint prices for a bunch of action figures in fair-to-satisfactory condition.

Then there’s Russell Wilson, and while I don’t think he can be written off after 6 games with what looks like a disastrous head coaching hire…as Paul has observed it’s really not looking good:

Russell Wilson? He’s Rodgers, but high on toxic positivity instead of trippin’-and-poopin’ tea. Wilson can simply no longer comprehend the petty concerns of lesser beings, with our finite-brained concepts such as “game plans” and “wide-open receivers.” Wilson is playing perfect football in his mind. It’s up to the Denver Broncos and society to tune in to his wavelength.

Wilson is also “day-to-day” with what Ian Rapoport assures us is a “real injury.” Sounds legit. Wilson would never invent excuses for his poor play. He has a publicity team for that.

This is, inevitably, what hundreds of millions of dollars and a decade-plus of fawning adulation buy: temperamental, eccentric celebrities who know that the blockbuster movie production grinds to a standstill until they’re lured from the trailer with the promise of a higher grade of imported mineral water. Rodgers, Brady, and Wilson can still be successful and fun to watch, just as Christian Bale or Gwyneth Paltrow can be while causing mass migraines in everyone around them. Rooting for these a-little-too-legendary quarterbacks, however, is becoming an increasingly selective acquired taste. And building a team around them is growing ever more risky.

From an objective/analytical standpoint, it’s impossible to put a DVOA or dollar value on a legendary quarterback turning into late-career Marlon Brando or Archduke Flakypants.

Even assuming he has some bounceback left in him it’s safe to say this is the worst I’ve missed the boat on an NFL transaction since the Bills drafted Josh Allen.

And then there’s the worst case scenario of all, the uncoachable star diva who never actually attained stardom on the field:

This train of thought, like all Walkthrough trains, makes a stop at Carson Wentz. Wentz is in the midst of turning yet another injury—his hand, this time—into a passion play. Wentz desperately wants to play through the injury, mostly because he has been terrified of being outperformed by his backup since the days of Nick Foles. Jameis Winston and Dak Prescott trust themselves to shrug off a controversy the moment they return from an injury. Wentz, not so much.

Eagles and Colts fans know how this saga goes: Wentz will heroically rush back and play poorly because of the injury and/or lack of practice (and because he’s Wentz), with Ron Rivera enabling the whole charade rather than risking a combination quarterback controversy/organizational power struggle.

Wentz is The Legendary Quarterback Who Never Was, prematurely crowned and compensated, a Russell Wilson wannabe who performed at a high level for nine weeks instead of nine seasons. Like Wilson, Wentz has a particular notion of how to play his position which cannot be debunked by coaching or repeated failures, and he’s somewhere between impervious and oblivious to criticism, constructive or otherwise. Wentz is what the “legendary quarterback” baggage looks like without an actual legend. With Brady midlife-spiraling, Rodgers grousing more loudly than usual for October, and Wilson surfing the cosmos as the herald of Galactus, the Buccaneers, Packers, and Broncos are getting a taste of it too.

For now, the Packers need to appease Rodgers, the Bucs indulge Brady, and the Broncos send subspace messages to Wilson in an effort to get things right. But oh, to be the Seahawks right now, with Geno Smith late-blooming like Rich Gannon (if not Kurt Warner), and all those extra draft picks in the larder!

To RIvera’s credit, Wentz is going on the IR after all. And oh yeah, this is a case where I am extremely glad to have been extremely wrong!