I will admit my eyebrows rose when I saw Jay Cutler on the sideline in the second-half of the NFC Championship game against the dreaded Green Bay Packers at Soldier Field. My brow furrowed even more when I saw the flaccid look on Cutler’s face; his slumped shoulders and laissez faire attitude made me think of a defeated man.

And that’s what he was.

He would not have the opportunity to lead his team from behind, win the game, be “the man,” and pack-up his bags for a run at the Super Bowl. Complicating his mood was the fact he suffered an injury. Cutler got a knee, a second-degree sprain (tear) of the MCL.

Just as I was about to pound my chest, drop to all fours and hop around the fires of the Wolfley Compound a thought suddenly occurred to me: I had the same thing happen to me.

Yeah, it wasn’t the NFC Championship game but the scenario was the same. I partially separated my shoulder – a second degree sprain – in a game against the New Orleans Saints in 1990. I tried to go back into the game and succeeded, convincing Joe Bugel I was “good to go.” The doctors advised me not to go back in but said that if I could stand the pain I could play.

I was determined to play and got back on the field on a fourth-and-one in a tight ball game. I missed my block because I was favoring my injured shoulder, trying to get the job done because that’s what football players do. My guy killed the ball-carrier and the ball popped out; the Saints recovered and the rout was on; we ended up losing the game 28-7.

Joe Bugel pulled me from the game and chastised me for selling him a bad can of Spam.

As this memory flooded my mind the flames began to flicker and die in the Compound. My mood changed as I considered my reaction to getting benched because of injury.

I wasn’t going to sit on the bench and tell stories. I didn’t want to speak with anybody.

I wasn’t going to smile and appear upbeat. I was worried about my shoulder and what could be wrong with it and whether it would make me miss the first game(s) of my professional career.

I wasn’t going to stick my chest out and be proud of my injury. My body let me down, broke down and what good is a blocking football/wedge-buster/cannon-fodder if he can’t block Dorothy and her little dog too?

I wasn’t going to act like it was okay to be hurt. I was not a guy that got hurt.

I wasn’t going to be a cheerleader. I was no cheerleader.

I was pissed; I was sick. And I wanted to let everybody watching me or around me know about it.

I was a team captain for the last 5-years. I was a four-time Pro Bowler. And all I could think of was making sure everybody knew I was pissed, a fallen fighter in a hand-to-hand world.

I did the same thing Jay Cutler did – the same thing. I got hurt, tried to play, didn’t play well and got pulled by the head coach.

I was a defeated man.

I acted the same way Jay Cutler did – the same way. I wonder just how much more it would have impacted me had that injury occurred in a championship game?

Even though it was the NFC Championship Game, even though it was for a Super Bowl birth, I’m going to give Jay Cutler a pass on this one. And I am also going to give all the current and former players a pass on their criticism of Cutler.

They probably just haven’t had that memory…yet.

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