Patrick Peterson No. 21 of the Arizona Cardinals prepares to take the field for the NFL game against the Detroit Lions at State Farm Stadium on December 9, 2018 in Glendale, Arizona. (Photo by Jennifer Stewart / Getty Images)
One era ended long before Patrick Peterson signed with the Vikings.
That happened two years ago, when Peterson reneged on his last big moment in Arizona, a public apology addressed to 20,000 people at hole 16 of the Waste Management Phoenix Open, when he reentered our collective hearts.
That was the day when we thought that Peterson would be an Eternal Cardinal.
Instead, he caused even more problems for another new coach. He welcomed Kliff Kingsbury by canceling voluntary training. These actions preceded a six-game suspension from the PED, when Peterson had the audacity to ask the team to help mitigate its financial losses during the NFL-imposed hiatus.
That was when Peterson lost the common football fan in Arizona. That was when we closed the book on him.
Wednesday was just a formality. An inevitability. The end of the road.
At its peak, I loved Peterson. His smile was high-voltage. His personality was contagious. He liked to laugh. He liked to brag. He loved to thrill the media with his Deion-type quotes. Sometimes his mouth moved faster than his brain and he mixed his metaphors or used malapropisms. Anyway, he was a great artist.
Once, I caught up with him as he left Lawn No. 18 at TPC Scottsdale. I asked him what he thought about the previous season. He was overjoyed.
“Those receivers that I was covering? Where are they now? “He said playfully.” I put them on the back of the milk cartons! “
I have rarely seen him happier. I miss that guy.
His behavior has changed in recent years. Grumpy Pat was not something I expected when Vale was fascinated by Peterson’s arrival.
As a novice, he returned four punts for touchdowns. One was a 99-yard vacant punt in overtime. Do you have any idea what that means?
This means that Peterson had the audacity to put a punt on his own 1-yard line. In overtime. He had the crazy talent for turning mistakes into victories.
He also had the audacity to aim for his family in the crowd while returning for an interception.
He loved group shots in the final zone after the Arizona defense forced a turnaround, even though his team was losing by three touchdowns.
At the height of his confidence, he tried to become a rare three-way player in the NFL, trying to be a star in defense, attack and special teams. He captured his imagination, dared the defenders to play towards him (they wouldn’t) and provoked one of the best sportsmanship gestures I have ever witnessed.
Entering week 17 of its debut season, most of the opposing coaches ended up playing football for Peterson. But Seahawks coach Pete Carroll felt the opposite. He knew that Peterson was a touchdown from an all-time record. Carroll decided that the honorable thing was to kick the ball for Peterson, giving the rookie a chance at immortality in the NFL.
Peterson almost made it, but was knocked down by a savory touchdown tackle from Seattle punter Jon Ryan.
At that time, everything seemed possible – when Peterson was driven by sunshine and joy, when the first half of his Arizona career was filled with happy content in the Hall of Fame.
The second half is a fire in the trash aboard the Titanic. Your game has slipped. The same happened with your leadership and attitude. Your punt returns have become business decisions. There was very little magic anywhere in the field. Even the smiles seemed tense and arduous.
I will forget these things. I look forward to the day when the Cardinals designate Peterson on his Ring of Honor. When we get to see that million dollar smile again. When we all remember fondly what we already had together, and not what it could have been.