SAN DIEGO — Lamar Jackson isn't Colin Kaepernick any more than Don Knotts was John Wayne.
The situations between the two NFL quarterbacks — one present, one ex — clearly aren't the same, but the background musicians are playing a similar Russian dirge.
I'm not alone in thinking Kaepernick, whose Mortal Sin was the Immaculate Genuflection during the anthem, was blackballed (and others who followed his lead, including teammate Eric Reed, were not). In his prime. Even now he's 10 years younger than Tom Brady.
There is no proof of collusion, a Deadly Sin, but when every team, many quarterback-impaired, refuses to sign a QB with Super Bowl pedigree — even as a backup with great athletic ability, the stink can be inhaled in Novosibirsk.
Kaep more than likely would have defeated Baltimore in that Super Bowl — if Jim Harbaugh's comical play-calling near the goal line gave him a chance.
All I can say is his kneel-down took place during a 2016 Niners exhibition, and Colin hasn't taken a snap since that season, when he started 12 games and threw 16 TDs vs. four picks. Most of The League's owners care about money more than winning, but Kaep wasn't going to blow open anyone's vault.
The filthy talk of collusion, of course hyperbolized by Unsocial Media, again is crawling out of the swamp. Thus far, anyway, owners outside of Baltimore aren't stampeding to even ask Jackson what he likes for breakfast.
And it sure appears as though Lamar, 26, MVP in 2019, and one of the most difficult-to-prepare-for, dangerous athletes to play the game (and who developed into a solid passer with little skill around him), is trying to enter a door that may be closed, but not locked. Yet.
After failing to sign a long-term deal with the Ravens, which Jackson has worked on as his own agent, Baltimore last week slapped a non-exclusive franchise tag on him, meaning he's free to negotiate with other clubs. If he agrees to an outside deal, the Ravens can either match the offer or receive two first-round draft choices from that team.
Not one non-playoff team with the cap space to handle Lamar has shown interest. It isn't ability or personality. It's guaranteed dollars — plus two No. 1s.
This isn't pure collusion so much as it is a vaccine for Jimmy Haslam Disease the owners want to keep from spreading in their exclusive club.
Haslam, owner of the Browns, massaged troubled QB Deshaun Watson with $230 million — in fully guaranteed money — including a $45 million signing bonus. Unlike baseball, NFL bosses aren't keen on giving away guaranteed dough — filling a hole, maybe, but not the whole boat. Football players get hurt. A lot. And Lamar can get hurt.
He clearly wants the Watson guarantee, and the Ravens aren't obliging. Prior to the 2022 season, Jackson reportedly turned down a four-year, $250 mil deal with $133 mil guaranteed. Not breakfast meat.
Some teams could have used Kaep, but a whole lot more can use Jackson, a problem on the field, but not off of it. If he isn't wooed by somebody, then collusion again is the star of the show, but there aren't many kings out there willing to offer the crown jewels.
They see Haslem as an outlier here, a rogue, and the quarterback thing is hitting the fan like a load of crap. If Aaron Rodgers doesn't retire and plays again this fall, it won't be for Green Bay, but he isn't getting blackballed. He stands to make close to $60 million.
The day is coming when the salary cap won't include quarterback salaries. It's now beyond difficult to build a championship-caliber team when a QB is eating a quarter of the payroll.
Jackson is one of the NFL's brightest lights, a QB unique in all the world. He deserves everything he can get, but owners also are going to see his rambunctious style of play makes him an enormous gamble for a complete guarantee.
Let's just say, for now, there's no quarterback in next month's draft who can approach his skill level — with the possible exception of Miami's incredibly raw Anthony Richardson, who, still, as my dad would say, "has to eat a few beans yet."
