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I pulled this off of a thread on CincyBengals.com. I thought this to be a good look at another perspective on Dillon. See what you guys think.

Perfect Fit

By Tom Friend

Nothing against Black Jesus or Willie, but he loves it here. He eats omelets for breakfast, crab legs for lunch, the AFC for dinner. He doesn't have to be the face of the franchise – Coach and No. 12 handle that – and when he fumbles in the red zone, nobody has a heart attack. So far, what a year. He's lost his Monday Night Football virginity, his inaugural playoff game is next, and if he ends up in the Super Bowl, he may never grow cornrows again.

It all goes to show that one team's poison is another team's MVP.

This isn't heaven, it's New England, and if Corey Dillon isn't Comeback Player of the Year, there ought to be a recount. He's transformed himself from major malcontent to Mr. Congeniality, and for anyone who followed his first seven years of pro football, that's no small miracle.

"The last time I'd seen him smile was his rookie year," says Dillon's wife, Desiree, "and that's probably only because I was pregnant."

"Good joke," Dillon says.

"That's no joke," Desiree replies.

Back in Cincinnati, where Black Jesus and Willie are trying to resuscitate a franchise, this transformation is all met with bewilderment. They wonder why he wouldn't buy in, why he'd want to bail just when the going was getting good. Black Jesus "That's what they call Marvin Lewis back there," Dillon says – doesn't want to talk about it. But Dillon's trusty old right tackle, Willie Anderson, is still baffled. "Never in my wildest dreams did I think Corey would leave," Willie says. "Guys used to always joke to us, 'Y'all were born here, y'all gonna die here.' Well, he didn't die here, did he? You can't pray for a better situation than the one he got into. For a guy of his caliber to get traded to the Patriots after their Super Bowl? That don't happen, man."

It's actually one of the NFL's most intriguing scenarios, that he could be Corey "Villain" in Cincinnati and Bill Belichick's cheerleader in New England. That he could be selfish as a Bengal and the consummate teammate as a Patriot. That he could be 29 and on the downside of his career in the AFC North and 30 and fresh in the AFC East.

"The grass is greener on the other side," Dillon says, a sparkle in his eye. "Don't ever confuse it. The grass is very green."

This is about losing and how it can ruin a man. This is also about

winning and how it can deodorize a man. It's about feeling absolutely naked against eight- and nine-man fronts, and having no faith at all that Akili Smith or Scott Mitchell can audible and make the defense pay. It's about being one of the greatest Bengals of all time but preferring to be just one of the guys anyplace else.

Corey Dillon asked for a trade last season – "They could've traded me for a pizza, it wouldn't have mattered to me," he says with a laugh – and what he got was the gift of Foxborough. He is a 1,600-yard rusher for the league's most consistent franchise, and just as losing once infected him with rage, winning has him willing to take less money to stay a Patriot forever. "Some people probably never heard of me until this year," he says. "Well, they'd heard of me but hadn't seen me play."

The mystery is why he gave up on a pro's pro like Lewis, but Dillon has his reasons, and he's willing to share them. It's early

December, five days before his Patriots will play Marvin's Bengals, and he starts rehashing it all from a couch in his condo outside

Boston, starts talking about a Cincinnati offensive line he says

wouldn't block for him and a front office that "thought I was done."

These are real scars, and what he's saying is, if he can't trust you, he can't be with you. Dillon is suspicious by nature, going

back to his childhood in Seattle, when he was arrested at 15 for

selling crack cocaine to undercover police officers – though he

still swears he was an innocent bystander. He was sentenced to nine months' probation plus 10 days in a youth detention center, and he's been paranoid about authority figures ever since. That includes his coaches at Washington, who he claims bad-mouthed him to NFL scouts as soon as they heard he might go pro early. And that includes Marvin and everything Cincinnati.

In seven years as a Bengal, Dillon had eight different starting quarterbacks. That meant the ball was going to him endlessly, that the team's record depended on him. It meant he was the face of the franchise, a role he detested, a role he says "just ain't ever been me." If he fumbled, coaches and players reacted "like the sky was falling," and after his third season, he claimed he'd "rather flip burgers" than be a Bengal. He wasn't the first Bengal to grouse. Carl Pickens, Dan Wilkinson and Takeo Spikes all wanted out at times during Dillon's tenure there. "I understand why Corey was pissed," Anderson says. "We both said, man, if things don't change, I ain't showing up for nothing."

Still, Dillon played through the abyss, missed only two games in his first six seasons and went to three Pro Bowls. The team was 0-6 in 2000 when he managed to set the then-single-game rushing record, with 278 yards on 22 carries against the Broncos, a breathtaking number considering the Bengals netted only 14 yards passing that day. "Defenses were bringing eight-, nine-man fronts," Corey says. "Seven years of that? That's too much."

Dillon's relationship with owner Mike Brown was only "hi and bye," and the more ornery Dillon got, the more the locker room became anti-Corey. "Guys didn't know him," says Anderson, who attended Bible study classes with Dillon. But Dillon didn't want to know them either. Loss after loss (Cincy went 26-70 in those first six seasons), he'd see teammates laughing at their lockers, and hate them for it. "After games, Corey would come out, blank expression, ready to go," Desiree says. "Not wanting to sign anything." Corey nods. "Jailbreak," he says. "After games, I'd be doing a buck-fifty out of that parking lot. They thought I was in NASCAR."

These are serious accusations, and Anderson, a Bengal for nine years now, has something to say: "He's right. You probably had eight guys on that team that gave a damn about winning. Everything he can say negative, I will never dispute it. But that roster's gone, man. Marvin's cleaned out the trash."

And that's the curious part, that Dillon and Lewis couldn't coexist. In the coach's first team meeting, he announced, "We got a stud at tailback, and we gonna ride him." But Lewis never had Dillon's ear. The losing, the ambivalence toward Brown and the friction with teammates had worn Dillon out. He was the only veteran to skip Lewis' first voluntary minicamp, and that was the opening salvo. Lewis tried patching things up by sending every player and staffer to Dillon's charity golf tournament, but by training camp the coach was seeing the paranoid Corey. When Lewis asked Dillon to play heavy preseason minutes and urged him to talk to the media, Dillon became convinced Lewis was "messing" with him. "I guess he wanted to make me an example," he says. "But that's not how I work."

When Dillon suffered a knee injury in the second game of the season and began sharing carries with Rudi Johnson, his time as a Bengal was essentially over. A perturbed Dillon told Lewis that the offensive line blocked harder for Johnson than for him, and Lewis called Anderson and Dillon in for a meeting. "Marvin was pissed off," Anderson says. "But he wanted Corey on board so bad he addressed it. He said, 'Let's look at the film,' and we found no games like that. Corey was like, 'Well, nobody likes me.' I said, 'Corey, linemen may be intimidated by you or don't know you, but everybody's blocking.'"

Not long after, a local paper reported that team officials were open to trading Dillon, that they felt that, at 29, he was possibly in decline. A hardbody who doesn't drink, Dillon was livid that no team official denied the story. "To me, they were saying I was done," Dillon says. "And for a guy who strapped that franchise onto his back, nobody has the decency to say this is not true? As soon as I get hurt, I'm done? From that day I said I would not return. They could've won the Super Bowl and I still would have said it."

Then Dillon got smart: he shut up and rooted for Rudi. "The light

flashed," he says. "Rudi was my ticket out. Rudi made me expendable."

After last season's finale, when the Bengals finished 8-8 and missed the playoffs by a game, Dillon tossed his pads into the stands. "One 8-8 season wasn't doing it for me," he says. In the locker room, he gave smiling goodbyes to reporters while, around him, Anderson and the new Bengals were in tears. "Guys were crying because Marvin came in like a bulldozer and we got so close," Anderson says. "Then I see our franchise running back basically laughing, saying, 'I'm outta here.' It hurt. I said, 'If he wants to leave, let him go. Good riddance.'"

Later in the off-season, Dillon responded by calling Anderson a

"bum" on national television. But it was over long before then. The day after the last game, Dillon put his house up for sale – he says he thought no one would buy it "out of spite" – and emptied his locker. "I'm thinking, you say you're winning without me, you've got your Black Jesus, I'm your Judas, why hold me hostage? Set me free," Dillon says. "To them, I was a cancer. Me? Almost the best player in your history besides Anthony Munoz and Boomer, and I'm the problem? Come on. Was it partially me? Could've been. But if I was griping or whining, I had a right to be doing it."

Immediately, Dillon's agent, Steve Feldman, began shopping for a

team. Oakland looked to be the front-runner, but the Raiders would give up only a third-round pick and Brown wanted a second. Talks stalled. Then, at the advice of another client, Patriots safety Rodney Harrison, Feldman dialed New England. Yes, that New England. Selfless New England. Initially, the Pats brain trust didn't consider Dillon a fit, believing he was too me-first. "All that stuff in Cincinnati," Dillon says. "That'll make anyone leery."

But Belichick and Scott Pioli, the team's player personnel director,

heard raves from former Bengals coach Dick LeBeau and decided to give up the second-rounder pending a face-to-face with Dillon and Feldman. They brought Dillon to a hotel near Foxborough and, after they shook Dillon's hand, Feldman told him, "These two men think you're a bad guy. Tell them why they're wrong." Dillon bared his soul, told them he'd been traumatized by seven years of losing, that losing can ruin a man. And Dillon remembers the look in Belichick's eye that day, the look of I get it, I get it.

At training camp, Dillon shaved the Cincinnati off of himself. He stood in front of a mirror, took one look at the cornrows he'd grown in protest and clipped them goodbye.

What a world he was in now. Tom Brady – whom Dillon just calls No. 12 – was a sight to behold. He was skilled, secure and laughed off tough questions. Better yet, there was an army of Bradys. Ted Johnson, Tedy Bruschi, Willie McGinest, Harrison and more on defense; Joe Andruzzi, David Givens, Matt Light and more on offense. Dillon had his wish: he was one of the guys. There was no face of the franchise here. Only faces.

Coming in, he'd worried his reputation would precede him, but what mattered more was Dillon's work ethic – "Hotdogs get weeded out here," Harrison says – and whether the new guy could take a joke. You need a sense of humor to mesh with the Pats, and Harrison and McGinest tested Dillon early by walking by him one day and saying, "Man, we should've gotten Eddie George." Dillon laughed, and when he later saw Harrison eating dessert, he said, "Ronnie Lott wouldn't have eaten cookies." He could dish it out, too? He was in.

On the field, it was a no-brainer. In both of their Super Bowl-winning seasons, the Patriots had a running game by committee, and Dillon was the every-down bruiser who could make the team even more efficient, if possible. He could run inside and out, was a bull in short-yardage and transformed the Patriots from a pass-first offense to a balanced one. His career- best 1,635 yards this season broke the franchise's single-season rushing record by 148 yards, and his presence kept the pass rush off Brady and the Patriots defense off the field.

"Our missing piece," Harrison says. "Every play, he goes 100 mph. After all that punishment in Cincinnati, he's looked 23. Like a rookie making 100 grand. Never complained once. Classy dude. Been our MVP."

Along the way, Dillon got to play in his first Monday Night Football game, against the Chiefs on Nov. 22, and he was so hyped he ... fumbled in the red zone. But a strange thing happened: teammates kept coming up to him and saying, "It happens. Forget it." He was amazed. Belichick approached calmly and said, "Corey, ball security. Get your pads lower. That's why it happened."

Belichick hadn't chastised him, he'd coached him. "It dawned on me, he was right!" Dillon says. "Coach tells the truth. And I love the guy to death for that. My wife will tell you. She says if Bill was

in my age bracket, we might be best friends. I've bought in. I trust him."

The whole New England experience has lit up his life. Every time

Dillon sees Pioli in a stadium corridor, he tugs on his sleeve and says, "Thanks for believing in me." Then there are the perks. "Like locker room equipment," says Dillon, who was a Bengal when Brown was at his most notoriously frugal. "I ask, 'Can I have an extra sock? Shirt?' The answer is, 'Of course.' In Cincinnati, it was, 'No!'" "How about the chiropractors and stuff?" Desiree reminds him.

"Oh, my god," Corey says. "We have a chiropractor who comes to the stadium! A masseuse! I tried bringing a chiropractor to camp last year, and there was almost a brawl. They were talking about calling security, kicking him off campus. And the food here? They serve breakfast, lunch and dinner. Steak. Crab legs. Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Greens. Omelets, croissants for breakfast. Five-star, man. This is the last stop for me. I'm a free agent in a year and I don't want to play nowhere else."

On Dillon's 30th birthday, which coincided with an Oct. 24 game against the Jets, Desiree even used the Gillette Stadium message board, putting up a note that read, "Corey, happy birthday, keep ballin'." What would she have written if they'd still been in Cincinnati? "Nothing," she says. "Maybe, meet me in the parking lot after the game."

Corey laughs at her joke. His guard is down now, and he wants to talk all afternoon. It's a side of him Cincinnati never got to see. It's five days before his Patriots play Marvin and Willie's Bengals, and he recognizes he's still a bit agitated over his old team. Two days later, Harrison sees him in the locker room and they talk. It's just the Patriots way. They talk. Harrison says, "Corey, go out there with a sense of peace. Don't go out there with bitterness or revenge." Together they then go to Bible study and pray that Corey can let it go, that he won't feel the need to slam the ball at Marvin's and Willie's feet.

Game day arrives, and the prayer is answered. Dillon hugs Lewis

before kickoff, telling him, "You'll never hear anything else out of

me." And after the Patriots win by seven, he sees Anderson and tells him, "Keep them guys' spirits up." Back in the Patriots locker room, Belichick brings his team together, then calls for his running back. "You get the game ball," he tells a beaming Dillon. Nothing else needs to be said.

Because Corey Dillon can see the look in his new team's eyes, the look of We get it, we get it.

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That's from ESPN: The Magazine originally, just to give credit. I was wondering when someone would post it. I'd avoided doing so just so I didn't start another "Dillon sucks/He's the greatest" thread. But I figured it would find its way here eventually... :rolleyes:

All I can say is this: this article sums up why I defended CD year in and year out up until the 2003 season. And it sums up why now I hope he gets his Super Bowl ring and chokes on it. In short: thanks for the memories, Corey. And by the way, @#$% you.

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That's from ESPN: The Magazine originally, just to give credit. I was wondering when someone would post it. I'd avoided doing so just so I didn't start another "Dillon sucks/He's the greatest" thread. But I figured it would find its way here eventually... :rolleyes:

All I can say is this: this article sums up why I defended CD year in and year out up until the 2003 season. And it sums up why now I hope he gets his Super Bowl ring and chokes on it. In short: thanks for the memories, Corey. And by the way, @#$% you.

Like Belichick, I get it. It's enough to make me no longer want to see the Pats get their asses kicked. Since the Bengals aren't in the playoffs, either the Steelers or the Pats are fine with me. It's about excellence boys, not petty grievances. That's what's wrong with the Cincinnati karma in the first place.

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With the way Mikey ran the franchise through some of those years I really can't blame the guy. When I read stuff like this I start to remember the things Marvin &Mike(I still hate to give him credit for anytrhing) are getting like when Madden talks about having an MRI rooom in the stadium. Hopefully Mikey get's it now. It also makes me wonder if the NFL ever stepped in and told him to do something about his franchise or else!

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Like Belichick, I get it.

I always got it. The fact that CD was a good player trapped on a horrible team whose management had no clue was as plain as the proverbial nose on your face. Even those who argued that if he really wanted out, he should have forced the Bengals into an unending series of franchise tags versus signing a rich long-term deal and bitching about it, I didn't agree with. The risk of injury and the non-guaranteed nature of football contracts demands you take the big up-front money.

Where CD lost me was in 2003, when the changes that needed to be made were, finally, at long last, made...he wouldn't see them. Worse, he actively looked for reasons not to believe (the line blocks better for Rudi than me) and when the film showed no such thing, retreated into self-pity (everybody hates me). In the end, CD became what he hated: that guy in the locker room who didn't believe. I mourn for what could have been, had he dedicated himself the way you, TupThumper, complain that too many Bengals didn't dedicate themselves before the Buffalo game. I wonder what might have been, had he stepped up and been here this year, with Warrick out, no TE, and Palmer desperate for a target to dump off to as the rush bore down. Ands after all those years of defending him, I find I can't forgive him for that. He had a chance to finally make a difference...and wouldn't do it.

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It's about excellence boys, not petty grievances. That's what's wrong with the Cincinnati karma in the first place.

Sheesh...was I ever off on the bad karma thing! :rolleyes: I thought it was due to a player (to remain nameless) going on an all night "blow-your-brains-out-on-blow" binge the night before the Super Bowl! Where the hell I got that idea, I do not know. :ph34r:

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I just thought it was an interesting read... love him or hate him, he's got to go down is one of the all time greats in Bengal history. Just too bad he's always going to have an asterick next to his name in the minds of most, including myself.

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This was posted at Go-Bengals.com the other day.

This was my response then,....it will never change. :)

"The last time I'd seen him smile was his rookie year," says Dillon's wife, Desiree, "and that's probably only because I was pregnant."

Hmmmmm he looks like he smiled in last years pic to me.

dillon_corey.jpg

And he said this.

Corey Dillon said the Bengals face a 'battle' in the AFC North this season. But come December, the three-time Pro Bowl tailback said Wednesday, a new team will be wearing the crown. 'I pick us,' he said when asked for a favorite. 'I go with us. I'm saying if I were a betting man, I would bet on us. I just feel confident about what we're doing.' The Bengals are 26-70 in Dillon's six seasons. But he said he is impressed by the organizational changes instituted by rookie coach Marvin Lewis.

'You break it down by personnel, player against player across the board, we match up with anybody,' Dillon said after an on-field coaching session. 'We just needed a little something extra, and Marvin has brought that. Marvin expects a lot out of you, but he's a players' coach. You are a reflection of what your coach is. If your coach is soft, your team is soft. If your team is disciplined, up-tempo, positive, that's how your team is. He calmed the storm a little bit around here. You can ask anybody: Right now it's a good situation. I'm just upset it wasn't like this six years ago. Right now things are in order.'

http://bengals.enquirer.com/2003/05/22/bengals22notes.html

I guess all that losing made him hit his wife too ? <_<

How about when you go to Bible study Corey that you learn that

you`re not supposed to lie ? :rolleyes:

I never liked the Gaytriots anyway. I was rooting for the Panthers

in last years Super Bowl. But now I REALLY hate them almost like they

are a division rival !!!!

I hope they lose against the Colts in the 2nd round !!! :player:

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It's about excellence boys, not petty grievances.  That's what's wrong with the Cincinnati karma in the first place.

Sheesh...was I ever off on the bad karma thing! :rolleyes: I thought it was due to a player (to remain nameless) going on an all night "blow-your-brains-out-on-blow" binge the night before the Super Bowl! Where the hell I got that idea, I do not know. :ph34r:

Corey Dillon is an ass, but he's a productive NFL player on a 14-2 team. Cincinnati is a town that can't get in the news unless it's for something bad or stupid. You figure it out.

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He is a vastly talented individual.

But he is still a pos.From threatening to flip burgers,tossing his pads into the stands,and calling Willie Anderson a bum,I have zero respect for this turd.

He is talented,but he is still a cancer that I'm glad was excised.He is a extremely talented football player,who is nothing more than a punk.

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He can complain all he wants, no one forced him to sign the huge extension the Bengals gave him - no other team drafted him in the 2nd round and gave him the chance to be an elite back - Corey you cannot run for 1300 yards a year with no help, sorry, you ain't that good.

I am also sick of the Dillon obssession and even more sick of his complaining about the Bengals, however justified not having "crab legs for lunch and croissants for breakfast" are, or not being able to bring in your own chiropractor (I highly doubt he "wouldn't" be able to do that now).

Dillon's anything but a professional and is in the class of a Randy Moss in my opinion. A whiny baby who thinks the world revolves around him and that everyone is out to get him.

He may be a great talent/player, but that doesn't mean I have to like him. I hate the Pats (they are boring as hell to watch and can't believe they as good as they are) and hope like hell the Colts beat them Sunday. I will be loving that if it happens.

It's also my hope that someone like Rudi erases all of his franchise records some day so that he's even more of an afterthought.

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It's also my hope that someone like Rudi erases all of his franchise records some day so that he's even more of an afterthought.

If the Bengals would only build the ULTIMATE offensive line (does anyone want to argue the LOS is where games are won and lost? :blink: I thought not.) that could be proficient at both run blocking and pass protection, even the delicate Chris Perry could erase Corey's records!

***Sorry Joisey, I slipped. :P

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I can speak only for myself, but I actually got over Corey Dillon while he was still here. I'd had enough of his act, and despite his obvious talent I wanted him gone as badly as he wanted out. And that's why the following quote is the only thing in the article that interested me.

Then Dillon got smart: He shut up and rooted for Rudi. "The light flashed," he says. "Rudi was my ticket out. Rudi made me expendable."

I can agree wholeheartedly that Rudi made Dillon totally expendable. No regrets at all from this chair. But I strongly disagree with his claim that while a member of the Bengals Dillon ever got smart or shut up. What he did until the moment he was gone was continue acting like he hadn't a clue what a teammate is supposed to act like. So if it's true that the light finally flashed for him then I'm betting that the bulb was approriately dim.

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Then Dillon got smart: He shut up and rooted for Rudi. "The light flashed," he says. "Rudi was my ticket out. Rudi made me expendable."

I can agree wholeheartedly that Rudi made Dillon totally expendable. No regrets at all from this chair. But I strongly disagree with his claim that while a member of the Bengals Dillon ever got smart or shut up. What he did until the moment he was gone was continue acting like he hadn't a clue what a teammate is supposed to act like. So if it's true that the light finally flashed for him then I'm betting that the bulb was approriately dim.

Wow. Hell of a post Hairy. I love unique perspectives.

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Could people please get over Cory? Im starting to think some people are a little obbessive over the man. I really never liked CD for the comments he made in Cincy. I was glad to see him go.

its kinda hard to get over the best player to ever play for the bengals so quickly

If you aren't over CD by now, you might want to see a therapist.

:huh::rolleyes:

Corydetizing

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Could people please get over Cory? Im starting to think some people are a little obbessive over the man. I really never liked CD for the comments he made in Cincy. I was glad to see him go.

its kinda hard to get over the best player to ever play for the bengals so quickly

No one here is angry with Boomer Esiason.

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I will say this. Maybe Corey doesn't drink a lot, but to say he never drinks is a joke. He was down on Main Street the Saturday night before he got in the Sunday morning accident that caused him to miss the game drunk off his ass. Not that I think one had any to do with the other, but that line isn't quite correct.

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Like Belichick, I get it.

I always got it. The fact that CD was a good player trapped on a horrible team whose management had no clue was as plain as the proverbial nose on your face. Even those who argued that if he really wanted out, he should have forced the Bengals into an unending series of franchise tags versus signing a rich long-term deal and bitching about it, I didn't agree with. The risk of injury and the non-guaranteed nature of football contracts demands you take the big up-front money.

Where CD lost me was in 2003, when the changes that needed to be made were, finally, at long last, made...he wouldn't see them. Worse, he actively looked for reasons not to believe (the line blocks better for Rudi than me) and when the film showed no such thing, retreated into self-pity (everybody hates me). In the end, CD became what he hated: that guy in the locker room who didn't believe. I mourn for what could have been, had he dedicated himself the way you, TupThumper, complain that too many Bengals didn't dedicate themselves before the Buffalo game. I wonder what might have been, had he stepped up and been here this year, with Warrick out, no TE, and Palmer desperate for a target to dump off to as the rush bore down. Ands after all those years of defending him, I find I can't forgive him for that. He had a chance to finally make a difference...and wouldn't do it.

Dillon's mistake was in not getting out of Cincinnati when he had the chance. He missed his opportunity to come out of it smelling like a rose. The game has changed. "The team" is a more ephemeral thing than it used to be. The NFL is a business. Dillon fell into bad form as far as a lot of his public behavior is concerned, but he never owed it to anybody to buy into the Bengals' turn-around and not seek to move on.

You're right that he retreated into self-pity, and it was shameful. Your point about him becoming what he hated is good, but I think we're talking about believing in two different things. There's the cosmopolitan belief in how you play the game of the person oriented toward the profession, and then there's the localized belief in "the team" of the company man. The two overlap, and Dillon may have violated the ethics of both at times, but what is obvious is that Dillon was never cut out to be a company man. I don't think it's fair to expect him to be.

I don't mourn anything in Dillon's case. What happened happened. By the time Dillon left, the Bengals didn't need him and he didn't need the Bengals. We have all been much more of an ass in our lives than we'd like to think. Dillon may or may not be worse than any of us in his behavior toward the Bengals. But, the healthy thing is to let it go.

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[We have all been much more of an ass in our lives than we'd like to think. Dillon may or may not be worse than any of us in his behavior toward the Bengals. But, the healthy thing is to let it go.

I agree. However, it isn't me -- or even Bengals fans at large -- who can't stop talking about CD & the Bengals. It's Dillon himself. I think the team concept still has a bit more solidity than you believe, TT, and that they way he left eats at some part of him. Thus we keep getting articles like this, full of half-baked justifications like "the o-line was sabatoging me" stuff.

Personally, I'd be happy to move on, Unfortunately, Dillon won't get out of the way.

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I think Bengal fans had every right to expect Corey Dillon to act like a company man even after his years of frustration. After all, Dillon is a grown man who earned individual acclaim and wealth playing a team sport. So it's difficult to accept the idea that minimum standards of team oriented & professional behavior could only be expected under the very best circumstances. Seriously, is Dillon capable of acting like a professional only if playing for a championship quality team that protects him from the media?

Dillon's claim that he finally learned to shut up while rooting for Rudi to make him expendable is absolutely ridiculous when you consider his behavior after Rudi emerged. Consider the way he responded when the Bengals missed the playoffs, his remarks about Willie Anderson being a bum, and about Rudi Johnson being inferior when compared to Dillon.

Dillon took real joy when his team came close but failed. He insulted a Pro-Bowl worthy blocker whose stellar play was directly related to whatever success Dillon could claim. And he expressed bitterness when Rudi Johnson proved the Bengals could survive very well without Dillon, and jealousy over the fact that Bengal fans quickly embraced Johnsons team-first attitude. So tell me, when exactly did the light go on for Corey? After he proved he'd always be a cancer on this team, right?

Make no mistake about it, Corey Dillon managed to talk his way off of the Bengals by demonstrating to the bitter end what a poor teammate he always was, and always would be if he remained a Bengal. He even confirmed as much by stating that his attitude wouldn't have change even if the Bengals had managed to win a Super Bowl.

Why some Bengal fans are compelled to make excuses for Dillons behavior boggles my mind. And why anyone in New England should be impressed that Dillon is now proving himself capable of different behavior is also beyond my comprehension. Dillon was always capable of acting differently if motivated to do so. Sadly, all to often he proved he couldn't be bothered. From the moment he was drafted and then promptly refused to show up for a press conference Corey Dillon was little more than a talented manchild who was far too interested in gnashing his teeth, grinding his axes, putting chips on his broad shoulders, and tilting at imaginary windmills.

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