Moss’ apparent retirement calls to mind Shaq, “The Dude”

Well, Randy Moss, if you’re actually calling it quits, it’s been real.

It still remains a big “if” because there’s a popular notion that Moss’ sudden retirement was a bargaining ploy to create leverage so he can eventually sign on with a contender.

Say what you will about Moss — and there is plenty to say — but it’s hard to criticize his candor. For better or worse, he has never shied away from telling you what’s on his mind.

That’s why it’s hard to just dismiss his fleeting farewell as some form of manipulation. It’s really an indication that, at the moment, he feels like a jilted lover whose rocky past has finally become too tiring for potential suitors.

For many, though, Moss was never someone that could be fully embraced because his imperfections were too glaring. Others with similar athletic prowess have been canonized, but Moss was too human to ever warrant widespread appeal.

This combined with a career that, given his amazing athletic gifts, certainly didn’t reach its ceiling will cause him to be unfairly judged.

Since he often displayed a wide range of authentic emotions, it’s become quite difficult to contextualize who Randy Moss was as a player and what he meant to the NFL.

Was he simply someone who didn’t care? Did he love football? Did you consider him thought-provoking or mercurial?

The answer to those questions usually depended on the day. His physical gifts might have been otherworldly, but Moss’ persona closely mirrored reality.

It’s fitting Shaquille O’Neal, another superstar whose career left something to be desired, retired right before Moss.

It’s safe to say Shaq will be remembered more favorably because of his relationship with the media.

When things were going wrong, O’Neal expressed his displeasure loudly and outwardly, but he always seemed more self-aware than the flighty Moss.

But as time has passed, I’ve had a complete reversal on this. Shaq might have been smarter with how he dealt with the media, but Moss was just as self-aware. He just didn’t really give a crap what people thought.

Sure, he wanted people to know how good he was. But perception wasn’t as important to him.

Whereas Shaq was more like Snoop Dogg, ever the self promoter, Moss was Tupac. He was extremely talented, brooding and seemingly dangerous.

Others might have been driven by external forces — fans, media, money — but Randy always seemed to do what made Randy happy.

He even, quite famously, paid his league-mandated fines with straight cash, but this seems difficult for me to believe.

Whenever I think of Moss running simple errands, I’m instantly reminded of the scene from “The Big Lebowski” where “The Dude” writes a check for a carton of milk.

Couldn’t you see Moss walking into a store wearing a ratty bathrobe, cheap sunglasses, holding a joint and writing a check for a loaf of bread?

The Freak abides, man.

Moss’ contemporaries, Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco, have tried to convince the public they are “reality” TV stars — and I use reality loosely.

But they weren’t quite as talented and never will be as “real” as Randy Moss is. Almost everything that Owens does feels like it’s been preordained by Drew Rosenhaus and fed to him line-by-line.

Ochocinco, on the other hand, ever hungry to increase his fame, has created a character that operates in his own social media-heavy world.

None of this was ever a part of Randy Moss’ world. That’s not to say he wasn’t a difficult person.

He bitched and moaned. He joked and celebrated. When he brought his A-game, he could beat any defensive back on the planet, but he was just as likely to take a few plays off.

Just as it is in real life, Moss always seemed to be close to some unobtainable thing on the horizon — something that was being untapped.
He left us wanting more.