Keidel: Dealing 21

By Jason Keidel
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If you were born addicted to football (a reasonable assumption if you're reading this) your first jolt of nature's coldness was watching an aging runner in repose.

He played for your favorite team, and you had his style perfectly mimicked as you tucked the Nerf in your arm and dashed between chairs, through kitchens and leaped over couches to your mother's everlasting contempt.

Your idol runs, lives, and wins the way you want. Then, suddenly, he can't. And as our mind catches up to our body, one of the rigors of adolescence is learning that our heroes are human.

In my case, it was Franco Harris, he of the hip pads jutting from his pants, slashing through a dominant line for a transcendent team on the way to four Super Bowl titles. But once the Steelers knew he couldn't lead his Italian Army (or the Steelers), Harris finished his wonderful career stumbling in Seattle for the Seahawks.

For Cowboys fans it was Tony Dorsett in Denver. For others it was O.J. Simpson in San Francisco. The fall of the running back appears to be instant, saddled by the twin burdens of time and his former talent.

Despite a woeful 2009, LaDainian Tomlinson does not seem to fit the refrain. What he is to the Jets is not what he was to the Chargers. Whatever the cocktail is for his rejuvenation, Tomlinson is running with pride and purpose. The Jets, potent without him, could be lethal with him.

(I refuse to use his initials as his moniker. Anyone who lived in New York during the 1980s knows there's only one LT and he doesn't play today and never played for the Jets.)

You wonder why men making millions need incentive to play football. No matter the reason, it seems they do. Tomlinson is making a mockery of most of us who were sure he was finished. I, for one, regarded him like the legendary rock band filled with geriatrics jamming to the halcyon days, promising us they had another album in them.

Browsing the latest NFL leaders, I paused at the rushing statistics.

5.7

It jumps like fire from the page. Tomlinson averages 5.7 yards per carry. And the numbing number wasn't built on the backs of creampuffs. Buffalo aside, every team the Jets have played were projected to make the playoffs this season.

I didn't expect it. You can pretend you did. We were too accustomed to the other Tomlinson, the brooding diva who hid behind his Darth Vader visor while his team failed to reach the Super Bowl every year. Frankly, he came up too small in too many big games.

The Chargers exhaled upon Tomlinson's departure with whispers and a predictably rancorous post mortem. To a man, they were happy he left. But the Chargers are 2-3, having just lost to the rudderless Raiders, still led by an old man wrapped in memories and a Member's Only jumpsuit. The Jets are 4-1, and should only improve as Darrelle Revis heals and Santonio Holmes blends.

Tomlinson refused to trade barbs with his former teammates. Perhaps that is a sign of a new approach while discarding the demeanor that got him just 730 yards (and 3.3 yards per carry) last season in San Diego. Some are meant to be great players without being great leaders. The Jets don't need the latter from LaDainian.

His head coach, Rex Ryan, has stapled the target to his broad back. The more Ryan spouts, the more his players can focus on football. It is the proper tactic to protect a young quarterback. Ryan, for all his gaseous assertions, knows he can't dump the entire weight of his words on Mark Sanchez's shoulders.

In the meantime, Tomlinson runs with the fervor of a rookie fresh from the practice squad. With no fumbles lost he leads the Jets – while they lead the league – in the ancient prudence of turnover differential. During an episode of "Hard Knocks," Ryan said the Jets were unbeatable if they won the turnover battle, then, of course, they lost a game after winning the turnover battle. His sentiment, however, is sound.

Occasionally a squad springs as an unbeatable force, but not this year. There are no juggernauts for the Jets to conquer, giving them perhaps their best shot at the Super Bowl in four decades.

Nothing is guaranteed when a season pivots on the help of a helpless quarterback after he's slammed to the turf by a 300-pound lineman. But if you're candid you must say the Jets look as skilled as anyone in the NFL right now.

In a league built on parity, the Jets are no longer a parody.

Feel free to email me: Jakster1@mac.com