By JON WEBB
GLASGOW — Bengals wide-receiver Chris Henry died early yesterday morning after falling from the back of a truck during a domestic dispute on Wednesday. He was 26.
I saw Henry play live only one time.
It was week 7 of this season and the Bengals were hosting the Chicago Bears. I attended the game with my brother and father, who both predicted the Bears would win — and win easily.
Four minutes into the game, their prediction took a hit.
With the ball at the Bears’ nine-yard line, Carson Palmer scrambled to the right and found Henry standing in the back of the endzone. The offense continued from there and the Bengals went on to win 45-10.
Henry only caught one additional ball and finished the game with two catches for 26 yards and one touchdown.
Two weeks later, Henry broke his arm in a win over Baltimore, effectively ending his career.
Five and half weeks after that, he was dead.
As coverage of his death continues, you’ll hear about Henry’s five suspensions, his arrests, his second-chance with the Bengals and his stupid, young death.
For fans and media-consumers, Henry is now more of a tragedy than a person.
We talk about the players of our favorite teams like we know them. We call them “our boy” and wear their names and numbers on our backs. But whether we admit it or not, we cheer for numbers and colors more than we do people. Once a player is traded away, we usually don’t want anything else to do with them.
When I heard the initial report of the accident on the radio Wednesday night, I listened enraptured. I then shook my head, turned off my car and walked into the mall to do some Christmas shopping.
I guess it was just another case of a player being traded away.
As fans, we can ignore the terrible news of his death. There are other channels. But for Henry’s family — the three kids he was raising, his fiancee and his parents — there isn’t another channel right now. This is the only thing on.
I guess what we need to remember is Henry wasn’t just the troubled young receiver whom the NFL suspended five times in five seasons. He wasn’t “our boy” and he wasn’t the embodiment of tragedy others will make him out to be.
He was a talented young man who, on the verge of getting it right, made one final mistake.
