Why is Barry Sanders a villain?

For 10 years, the man gave you some of the most profound athletic moments ever witnessed on this planet. For 10 years he ran like no one else ever had. He took the ball, stopped, planted, waited, then exploded. He ran like that for 10 years and gained 15,269 yards. Yet when you see him now you boo him? Why?

You didn't always boo Barry. For 10 years, you called him "classy" when he reached the end zone (109 times, mind you) and humbly handed the ball to the referee. Didn't his humility make it easier for you to accept the fact he made more money than you? And didn't you read where he returned that $1.833 million signing bonus? Wasn't that the perfect footnote to his career? Now he's gone, and you blame him for the Lions' woes. Why?

Barry didn't have a big mouth. Or a posse. Or cornrows or piercings or tatts. Just a Bible and a football. Isn't that what you want from athletes? For them to be just athletes? He never smoked crack, and as far as we know, no one in his family smokes crack. He never violated any part of the league's substance-abuse policy. He was never caught with a prostitute, never hit a woman. He never converted to Islam or changed his name to Muhammad or Abdullah, or something that might have scared you. He just scared defenses. He went to 10 Pro Bowls and still called himself Barry. Nice guy, no nickname. And yet you boo him.

For 10 years he showed up for work. That wasn't always easy. He never worked in a place where he could hide in an office and fake it. That was never an option. He couldn't hide. His business demanded hunger and desire. He had to be there to do his job well. And he did that -- every given Sunday.

For 10 years, Sanders heard people talk about how the game has changed and how greedy players play only for money and not the almighty love of the game. But when he stopped loving it, when he got tired of having his fingers hit by helmets, when he got tired of waking up with his turf burns glued to his sheets, when he got tired of six-week training camps, tired of new coordinators, tired of lining up behind average quarterbacks, tired of nine-man fronts, tired of ... losing, he walked away.

Isn't that what you do when you love something? Don't you let it go because you don't want to hurt it? Did Barry hurt the game? Did Barry hurt you? Is that why you boo?

Alan Grant covers the NFL for The Magazine. To respond to Alan's open letter to Lions fans, click here. We'll post a selection of the best responses.