After the tears dried, did we learn anything from the man’s death? Although the Broncos wear No. 27 on their helmets, the memory of Darrent Williams grows colder each time a Denver teammate puts himself in danger.
In the wicked hours of a December night, punter Todd Sauerbrun hopped in a cab for what proved to be a ride out of town.
Receiver Brandon Marshall insists a DUI can happen to anybody.
When the smoke cleared, running back Travis Henry beat a marijuana rap by the NFL, but he remains the league’s poster child for unprotected sex.
The vast majority of Broncos are good guys.
But some of them have dangerously poor memories.
“I don’t care about controversy,” Marshall said Wednesday.
While all the losses have hurt the Broncos in the NFL standings, it’s all the controversy that’s hurting their standing in the hearts of Denver fans.
After cutting Sauerbrun, Broncos coach Mike Shanahan admitted the beleaguered punter lost his job off the field.
“No. 1,” Shanahan said, “I told Todd, if he had any problems, he was going to be released.”
Although Sauerbrun faces an assault charge for a disagreement with a cabdriver outside a local restaurant, Shanahan said the 34-year-old veteran’s belligerence toward police bought him a pink slip, particularly in light of the fact “police officers here in Denver have done an unbelievable job for us working with the Darrent Williams case.”
The death of Williams will have been in vain if the Broncos quickly forget this is a dangerous world for NFL stars. They live in glass houses built by crazy money, obsessed fans and 2 4/7 media hullabaloo.
Few in the stadium might be able to tell you precisely how many rushing yards Henry has produced in 2007, but who can forget his vital statistic of nine children with nine women?
In an era in which it’s impossible to know which guy on the street might be packing a cellphone camera or a gun in the glove box, never have pro athletes had to walk a finer line between enjoying the good life and being prisoners of fame.
So we can feel the pain of NFL stars who play hard for three hours on Sunday, then must tiptoe through the court of public opinion until the next game.
Marshall was in court this week to plead not guilty to driving under the influence. He was pulled over on a one-way street after a home win against Pittsburgh in October.
“It could happen to anybody,” said the 23-year-old Marshall, taking a look at my gray, thinning hair. “It can happen to you, at your age, if you go to a restaurant.”
And that’s the scary part. There is no sanctuary. Williams certainly did not deserve to die because he attended a New Year’s Eve party in Denver. A beautiful house could not protect late Washington safety Sean Taylor from becoming a murder victim.
Did those grim reminders to be careful fail to sink in with Denver players?
“It didn’t really sink in with us guys? No, that’s not true,” Marshall said. “You know why? We lost a teammate, we lost a friend, we lost a family member, a dad, a brother, a boyfriend. Darrent Williams was a lot of things. The way I approach situations when I’m out is totally different now.”
What’s a young man to do? Lock himself in a room?
“The question is: Why should we shelter ourselves and not go out?” Marshall asked.
Fair or not, watching your own back has become part of the gig for every sports celebrity in America.
If Sauerbrun, Marshall or Henry find the celebrity straitjacket too confining, maybe it makes him nothing more than human. But even a short walk on the wild side can make any big-ticket star an uninsurable risk for a team that has sunk big money in talent.
As all-star Nuggets guard Allen Iverson recently told me, a high-profile athlete can quickly become a target of irrational ire for a misstep as innocent as scuffing a stranger’s shoes in a nightclub or turning down an autograph request in a restaurant.
So fame definitely does come at a price.
Forget, for a moment, any obligation the Broncos might have to be role models in a city that adores them.
For purposes of this discussion, what worries me right here, right now is how casually too many Broncos neglect the most elemental lesson of Williams’ tragic death.
Once the helmets are removed, there are no rules.
And Sunday afternoon is the least dangerous time of the week to be an NFL player.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com
