Going Out On Top

By Jared Trexler

A respirator is permanently parked in a Hollywood broom closest. Likewise in the storage shacks of every professional sports team, yes even Oakland.

It is needed to revive Andy Mayberry and Barney Fife's fading relationship. The shelf life of America's next young sex symbols thrown together on a night-time hour of perverse innuendo and girls wearing boy shorts.

To guard against ill-intended, uninformed decisions made by professional athletes, who can't stomach the thoughts of Social Security and wearing a suit after the Body Time alarm clock goes off.

They hit snooze.

Arnold Palmer stuck around so Masters patrons could stalk the chase to break 80 around Amen Corner. Brett Favre hung on by the chin strap so Lambeau Field warriors could witness a 3-5 record on the Frozen Tundra.

I think MJ was hitting jumpers in an NBADL uniform by the time he unlaced the Nikes. Raise your hand if you only wanted to remember Michael Jordan as a Chicago Bull?

Life just doesn't work that way. The human condition is programmed to kick in at the thoughts of daytime television with the wife and a carton of Bon-Bons -- that's a shout out to you, Peg Bundy.

For television celebrities, the comfort zone of a particular cast and the net worth of every PR opportunity outweighs ratings sinking faster than Carmen Electra's medically-enhanced cleavage.

Yet, there are two recent examples of people making proper decisions with the proper perspective.

Tiki Barber and....The O.C. That's right, the New York Giants running back with the pearly whites and look-alike down in Tampa sitting in the same room of comparison with a half-naked Autumn Reeser and Rachel Bilson.

Why do athletes get all the breaks? I regress.

Isn't it every worker's dream to walk into the office with a smile on their face. Take out a cardboard box and place personal belongings, memories of achievement into it before walking out the door. On their own terms, and with that same smile on their face.

Firings, layoffs, pushes down 10 flights of stairs into retirement aren't fun, just ask our friends at the Philadelphia Inquirer. That's a sad story. How are they supposed to feed their families without uprooting them from the only home they've ever known in the chase for another opportunity?

Now, this piece isn't going to go all Terrell Owens on you, asking aloud if athletes/actresses can survive a layoff and still feed their families. But everything in this world is relative.

I'd like to go out on top one day. Retire to play golf in Florida next to Mrs. T while daughter and son are off at college, not a cent of which I paid for because they are both so damn smart.

We'd all like to have Barber's Sunday press conference, minutes after showing he's still got it with 137 yards rushing. He looked at peace with his decision, knowing full well he's bright enough for life after football and his body will thank him years down the road.

He walks away even without a Super Bowl that keeps many players and coaches around too long.

"I have come to the conclusion that it is not coming to define me," said Barber. "My legacy will be of someone who has played through the ups and downs and good times and bad, and you always knew what you were getting out of me on Sunday. I have never given up. I have never walked off that field without leaving it all on the field. That's what all the competitors who played against me and the fans who watched me, that's what they all see."

He then thanked his future colleagues -- media members -- by name and with firm handshakes. Talk about exiting with class.

The O.C. can say the same after four seasons on FOX. The prime-time teen soap/quirky comedy became a hit of viewers 18-25 and ESPN's Bill Simmons, especially during an initial season that ranked as one of the highest rated in network history.

Then redundant storylines set in. The series killed off one of its original regulars, Mischa Barton, in the Season 3 cliffhanger to a strong backlash. After all, who does that? It would be like the Giants killing off Eli Manning. On second thought, Wellington, make sure I give you Josh Schwartz's phone number.

In the end, you have to give Schwartz credit. He resurrected a dying series behind two California hotties to attract men and an engaging, dramatic storyline to attract women. The only problem was that a series on life support can't fully recover when going up against a show built around those who pull the plug, Grey's Anatomy.

Critics and viewers have shouted accolades Scwartz's way, calling the writing "inspired," and saying Season 4, "is the best since the show's inception." FOX canceled it, February 22 will be Bilson's "Barber-like" swan song, based completely on ratings, and Schwartz is at peace with the decision to move forward instead of change networks.

"I'm thrilled (about this season)," said Schwartz. "Very few get the opportunity to have their last season be their best season."

Barber ran for 1662 yards in 2006, his second best total ever, while catching 58 passes out of the backfield, his most since 2003.

See the parallels.

They look even better from the top of the mountain.

You can read Jared Trexler every Sunday in this spot, unless he is shacked up at his girl's house, rooting for the Giants against his will and listening to a Big Ben bash session. You can email Jared at jtt128@comcast.net