The Cardinals attempted to correct one of the great, uncertain errors in the history of contract language on Thursday, releasing a statement confirming they had omitted the controversial “homework” clause from new quarterback Keeler Murray’s deal. They did so after Murray called himself an unscheduled press conference to complain about it.
Part of the statement read: “After seeing the distraction it created, we removed the appendix from the contract. It was clearly perceived in ways that were never intended.”
Pray now for GM Steve Kim, who, like anyone who’s tried to hit the call button on an embarrassing work email talking trash about a co-worker, has no other tools in his belt to repair the damage but time and patience (and whatever he learns) from this aggressive oscillation by the HR department). Here he hopes to enjoy awkward conversations and a little well-disguised public cringing. Here he hopes the Cardinals will win several football matches, so it’s not the controversy that defines his tenure as GM (why has this guy not been put in front of the microphone yet, by the way?)
We need not paraphrase the sheer stupidity of putting a clause in Murray’s very easy contract that entails Murray sitting alone in a room four hours a week with his iPad, not allowed to scroll through his phone and play video games or watch TV. But it is fair to point out the sheer stupidity of thinking that simply removing the clause from the contract would fix the massive problem Arizona had caused it to write it in the first place.
Through no fault of his own, Murray is now the “no homework” guy. We all went to high school. We have all given or received a bad nickname based on some horrific embarrassing moment or perceived misfortune in dress, speech, or general appearance. not fair. It’s not even close to acceptable. But we all understand how this works, right? As Seth says in all classical times Very bad: “People don’t forget.” Just because the Cardinals won’t keep the clauses of the contract above his head anymore doesn’t mean we’ll stop assuming, without error our own, that any and all mistakes Murray made on the field were the result of a lack of study of the film.
How easy was it after Murray intercepted the amateur tape mill on Twitter to create a defensive look similar to the one that got him disrupted? How easy it would be for all of us to draw a kid playing video games after every poor performance and get attached to it Kyler during an independent study this week? The Cardinals created a 24-year-old still-developing youngster who has come of age in the age of social media to be roasted on a weekly basis on his platform of choice, all for the Offensive Rookie of the Year and two Pro Bowls awards respectively. It doesn’t properly hide all the damage they’ve done elsewhere through years of poor crafting and free agency puffs. Murray must make sure his GM spends some time alone learning how to evaluate wide receivers so he doesn’t have to spend through teeth to replace those he picked himself that can’t see the field.
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Murray is now no different from a player who has a significant weight clause in his contract. He must embark on the same grueling journey as Eddie Lacy, after it was revealed that Lacy would make the average annual salary of an American if he showed up to camp Seahawks in the team’s ideal weight range or we all (incorrectly) assumed he was. He no longer plays because he can’t stick to a diet. (A similar report on Zion Williamson surfaced in the New Orleans Pelicans that includes a weight clause hours before the Cardinals’ statement Thursday.) Murray is no different from Sam Darnold, who, after confessing on ESPN cam while Monday Night Football That he has been “ghost seeing” ever since harbors the perception that he is somehow unable to handle pocket pressure. He’s brothers-in-arms with Marc Sanchez, who couldn’t walk anywhere near behind a fellow player for the remainder of his career for fear of getting stuck again. It’s Gino Smith, the man who got Picasso’s face by his grumpy fellow.
Being an alpha psychologically is an intimate and necessary part of effectively playing a full-back. Good coaches care deeply about this part and reinforce it. They put their developing players in the appropriate locker rooms. They call the plays appropriate to them. They direct the climb with a steady hand.
On the other hand, the Cardinal ripped the quarterback’s pants and forced him to walk into the high school cafeteria.
Perhaps the most enjoyable part of this little week-long story was seeing people claim that the front office in Arizona had achieved some sort of next-level galactic brain state for publishing this information. They have properly embarrassed the midfielder to work harder.
Thanks to them, there is more work to be done than ever before. Four hours a week won’t cut it.
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