Gone But Not Forgotten

Michael Wilbon asked on Twitter a few weeks ago what was the most overlooked sports story of this decade. In an era of round-the-clock sports news, a young generation of over-caffeinated bloggers and the emergence of social networking, nothing(sports or otherwise) ever really gets "overlooked". However, when dissecting this decade's biggest sports headlines, some things get, for lack of a better term, forgotten. When hot items are breaking instantaneously, it tends to make the previous significant headline seem like old news. Looking over the big topics of this decade, I found myself rehashing a story that, by no means was overlooked or undervalued, but perhaps trumped by similar stories that were a bit more fresh. Here's a look back at perhaps this decade's most underrated news story.

He was the poster child for the next generation's athlete. A superb combination of size, speed, instinct, heart and athletic ability. He scoured the field like a hawk, searching for the next opponent to pulverize. Then, as quickly as he would close on an opposing receiver, the world lost Sean Taylor at the age of 24 and, much like the aftermath from one of his trademark hits, all that was left were loud gasps and pain.

When Sean Taylor was murdered in November of 2007, it felt more like deja vu than a national sports tragedy. After all, we were just a few years removed from the slaying of fellow defensive back Darrent Williams outside of a Denver nightclub after a New Year's party. Taylor's death, especially in wake of the death of Williams, opened up a nationwide debate about the means athletes should take to protect themselves from a country of gun-toting loons. There was a feature in ESPN Magazine shortly after with interviews from players about the measures they have now feel the need to take in wake of Taylor's murder. As for on the field, the Redskins honored Taylor by having the defense line up a man short in the backfield(which the Bills exploited).

Certainly, in the D.C. area, nobody would say that Sean Taylor's death has been forgotten. FedEx Field is still packed with Redskins fans adorned in #21 jerseys or T-Shirts with Taylor's likeness on it, but the turn of events that followed Taylor's murder put what should have been this generation's Len Bias on the back burner. Within the first year after Taylor's death, the shooting of Jaguars' offensive lineman Richard Collier happened, then Plaxico Burress' Cheddar Bob impression happened, then Donte Stallworth's DUI manslaughter happened, then the murder of Steve McNair and, while not exactly a sports story, there was the passing of Michael Jackson. All of those events along with the never-ending saga of Michael Vick's dogfighting drama gave the world something to think about other than the loss of what could have been a Hall of Fame safety.

Two years later, Taylor's name hardly comes up amongst sports' greatest tragedies, mainly because society tends not dwell too long on a person's death(unless that person is Michael Jackson, of course.) and also because McNair and Collier and Burress had replaced Taylor as the poster children for gun violence and its effects on sports figures much like the shock of Taylor's death usurped Williams'. Perhaps never more so than this season has Taylor been so sorely missed by the Redskins ON the field, as his replacement (fellow first round pick LaRon Landry) has certainly kept the Taylor mantle of bone-jarring hits alive but has failed to be as big a factor in pass coverage as his predecessor.

In a sports decade that will inevitably be remembered for the prevalence of steroids in baseball, the unsavory trysts of Kobe Bryant/Ben Roethlisberger/Tiger Woods, the greatness of Tom Brady and Peyton Manning, the first Red Sox title in 86 years and the emergence of MMA, let us all take some time to remember a man who was meant to leave a large impact on the football field but left his greatest dent off of it.