"Terrell Owens is gimping into his football sunset, after tearing an ACL while working out. Or while taping his reality show. Or something. Maybe it was both. Does it matter? At age 37, teamless and out until November, Owens is likely finished.

He will be a Hall of Fame receiver. His numbers make it inevitable: Second all-time in receiving yards, tied for second in touchdown catches, seventh in receptions. At his best, Owens could beat you across the middle or down the sideline. He was a freak of nature who, even last year, always looked 10 years younger than he was. He caught nine passes for 122 yards in Super Bowl 39, six weeks after he broke his leg.

Too bad he'll be largely remembered for being a controversialist. Which is a polite way of saying, a joker.

Which brings us to Planet Ocho. Chad and T.O. are twin sons of different mothers. They come from the same single-mother upbringing, share the same sense of abandonment and require the same enormous amounts of love and attention. And while Eight-Five will not finish his career with the kind of stats his amigo has, he's steering his public image on an identical course. Which prompts a question:

If you are a superior athlete, do you want to be remembered for your athletic skills? Or for everything else?

Maybe Ocho will be a Bengal this year. Maybe he won't. Maybe there won't be a this year. The only certainty is that a man who dedicated his life to football -- and earned every kudo he got for playing it superbly -- now seems content with marketing himself as. . . as. . . what, exactly?

A soccer player? A bull rider? A wrestler of alligators? A dancer, prancer, smooth romancer? "