Collegiate Times

"Damn." That's all I could say as I sat on my couch, appalled.

Michael Vick had lied to U.S. District Judge Henry E. Hudson about his involvement in a dog-fighting ring based out of his Bad Newz Kennels in Newport News, Va.

A 23-month sentence was levied, and Nancy Grace and others beat the horse to death.

Vick's teammates from the Atlanta Falcons could not believe their leader was responsible for anything so heinous, and head coach Bobby Petrino had the daunting task of refocusing the team on the season ahead. Petrino resigned in the middle of the season.

The Falcons were a wreck and finished with one of the worst records in the National Football League during the 2007-08 season. Sports journalists took turns holding Vick down and wailing on him, continuing even today.

Even before Vick was fitted for his prison bling, his voice was strongly flavored with resentment and a hint of humility, garnished with a slice of despair. He was ashamed of his actions from day one.

He knew he had been given $130 million worth of Falcons owner Arthur Blank's trust, and he realized he had told him to shove it.

He had forever linked his name to "dog fighting," and late night talk show hosts would exploit this joke almost as frequently as Vick exploited those pit bulls in that gambling ring.

His newly established fortune was just months away from cascading from his checking account into legal fees, nonprofit organization donations and miscellaneous debt.

What was that $10 wage construction job going to fix? The superficial media hounds were going to want to see his name among the platinum-level donors to Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals chapters across the country.

Don't let Vick play in the NFL because he needs the money. Let Vick play in the NFL because he is a competent athlete and a morally upright member of the community.  If NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell sees the overwhelming effects of Vick's maturation, then he should be in. But if Vick has a disingenuous scent on his breath, ship him off.

Vick watched a shrewd businessman cut ties with him at the drop of the hat, losing Arthur Blank as his closest legitimate ally.

With a state of mind set at "invincible," Vick saw how quickly he could fall from grace as the government busted his dog-fighting ring and promptly shipped him off to prison promptly.

The media has sacked him harder than DeMarcus Ware ever could. There's no way he is going to come out of prison thinking that anyone in the public sphere will simply accept him.

To just shove him away from national exposure will not give him a chance to rehabilitate his public personality.

Put him in Buffalo Bills jersey with a league-minimum contract and a chance restore his reputation. Tell him to teach Terrell Owens how to develop humility.

He could do the same thing with Denver Broncos' wide receiver Brandon Marshall, who also has had his share of legal troubles, including a domestic abuse charge a few years back. Look at former running back Jamal Lewis, who spent a year in prison  and missed four games from the 2004 season.

Controversy sells tickets. If teams out there are not willing to sign Vick because they are afraid of losing a portion of their revenue, they need to get over themselves. Season tickets will still sell out. Vick has grown tremendously over the past year. He can still be great.