Colin Kaepernick, the exiled quarterback robbed of the rest of his career. by a concerted effort of NFL team owners and a right-wing pressure campaign about to leave the White House, sent a message saying he has been competitive football-free for 1,363 days, or 195 weeks. That is the equivalent of 12 seasons, although that's really only playing with numbers.
The point is, Kaepernick continues to train for a job that is never coming, and as wrong as that is on so many levels, it isn't going to change. He will continue to be as he has been — the human shield who took the bullet when the NFL ran scared of Donald Trump and network ratings. And as he continues to age outside the league diaspora, the faux reason why he doesn't get looked at grows.
And that is rust.
As more and more quarterbacks get signed and discarded (Josh Johnson alone has been on six teams since Kaepernick was shunned), the Kaepernick story feels more and more like football history, history the league would be ashamed of it its constituent operators were capable of shame. But Kaepernick's banishment also served as the starkest and most enduring reminder that the football in "National Football League" is the least important part of the company logo. Kaepernick was the window into how the sausage is really made, and how the product is less important than the illusion that the product is vital to the functioning of America. It is the most enduring symbol of things work — pay attention to the shiny thing, not the things that get ground up making the shiny thing.
There have been 130 quarterbacks throw a ball in the four years since Kaepernick's exile, and only one, Seattle, has not employed a backup except for kneel-down duties. And yes, the irony is not lost. That's a lot of jobs for Kaepernick not to be interviewed for, let alone hired for, and therein lies the most compelling prooflet that he has been banned from the business. The league has been careful about leaving any paperwork around to prove the collusive nature of their. refusal to act, but the circumstantial evidence is more than compelling enough to convict.
It's been four years, though, and the league's discipline on keeping him away from the hiring hall has been inspiring in a depressing kind of way. Quarterbacks never don't get second, third and fourth shots, no matter how old or resume-thin or McCown-y they turn out to be. In short, Kaepernick is now more the ghost of football past, haunting the league by reminding us of its reaction and cowardice. Even if he never plays again, Kaepernick's little notes about his continued preparations for a job that is never coming are a handy reminder, like the league's refusal to stop the machine during the virus, that nothing gets in the way of the business. Not even improving the product. One hundred ninety five weeks, and not counting.
