I stood in front of Pittsburgh QB Tommy Maddox on Sunday in Jacksonville and listened to his explanation, and I have to admit I was utterly dumbfounded. The usual crowd had come and gone, everyone asking the same question 100 different ways: When? When was Maddox going to make his return to the Steelers after a miraculous recovery from a cerebral and spinal cord concussion that left him unconscious … paralyzed … lifeless on the turf in Nashville just two short weeks ago.

Everyone wanting to know when he's coming back. But why hasn't anyone bothered to ask why he's coming back?

I snuck up alone and posed that question, just as Maddox was putting his wedding ring back on his finger after the game. "When I was in third grade our teacher asked us to write a paper about what we wanted to be in life," Maddox explained. "I wrote mine about becoming a professional football player. The teacher laughed and told me I might want to think about something a little more realistic. This is what I love."

But I still don't get it, Tommy, I said. Help me understand. Guys quit the game after bad knee injuries, they walk away after too many concussions. I get a bad paper cut, bye bye. You want to play chicken with paralysis?

I like what I do for a living. Writing is a significant part of how I define myself as a person. But if I filed this column and, as a result, went numb from the neck down like you did -- do you even remember? They cut your facemask off to secure your head, teammates were scared to death, they prayed for your wife and kids, your wife wanted to jump on a plane to be by your side, you woke to a doctor at Nashville Baptist asking you to squeeze his hand and heard him say, "Okay, we've got something going" -- that would be that.

	30 Second Column
	Quote taped to the bulletin board inside the Saints locker room the week before they burst the Bucs' bubble. From e. e. Cummings, American poet (1894-1962). "To be nobody-but-yourself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting." Should the Saints face the Bills in the Super Bowl, might I suggest going with Cummings' classic 'Buffalo Bills Defunct'?
	The Flemister File
	Wherein we follow the exploits of FlemFile mascot and Washington TE Zeron Flemister: First it was The Electric Slide and The Macarena and now ... ZFLem's TD Turkey Trot is sweeping the nation! I walked into Alltel Stadium on Monday and bumped into a member of the Jags staff and the first thing he says to me is: "Did you see ZFlem score on Thanksgiving? Did you see his little Turkey Trot dance? Oh man I was at home watching and I saw that and the first thing I thought was, 'Oh this is gonna be great for the Flemister File.' Indeed, ZFlem's 16-yard TD pass (the linebacker let him go up the seam figuring he was running yet another clearing route) put the Skins up 14-10 in the second quarter and gave him two TDzzz on the year but, more importantly, it got a nation of stuffed turkeys off their couches on Thanksgiving to do the Turkey Trot. (Nevermind that turkeys don't fly.) "I may have to patent that move for next year," says ZFlem. "My homeboys were hating on me saying, 'What the hell is Zeron doing?' They said I looked like a chicken. A chicken? Man it was Thanksgiving. So I guess it got mixed reviews. But my buddies say their nephews were all running around the house doing it on Thanksgiving. I just thought I needed to do something different, something that related to the day, so I just started, ya know, flapping. Hey, my mom liked it." As did I. It was original. It was spontaneous. It was damn funny. And best of all it didn't involve some contrived stunt with a pen.
	The Flem Five
	Top Five Michael Vick highlights: 5. A while back I saw him pick up a baseball at Virginia Tech and fire it, dead on the money, 50 yards away. 4. Made Cincy badass 'backer Takeo Spikes shake his head and compare him to Barry Sanders. 3. Vick's sick 46-yard scramble in OT to beat the Vikes. Gave him the most yards rushing (173) by a QB since the merger. 2. Yeah, but did you see what he did to Vikes corner Corey Chavous and linebacker Antonio Wilson at the beginning of that play? He made them miss so bad they took each other out like two Tiger infielders converging on a blooper to center. 1. First six games of '02 without a pick. If he can go his next six games without a pick, look out.
	WHYLO of the Week
	The mailbag included lots of Turkey of the Year (TOY) nominees. The leading vote getters were Warren Sapp, Terrell Owens, Mike Brown and, uh, Yours Truly. Bob Bower wrote, "Why don't you take your Browns-bashing attitude, your lousy rhetoric and your unfunny comments and find a job overseas." Like many of you David Cardiel was upset about the Emmitt Smith TOY. He very cleverly titled his email: Please read! Then wrote, "Hey A--hole show Emmitt some respect." Peter and Donna Haugh wrote in as a family to say, "The Flemfile fits you perfectly. You ought to call it the sh-tfile because that is what you are full of." Teresa Houston kept it rolling with, "Your articles should come with a barf bag." And Ed Sullivan finished the job when he called me an "Assclown." I knew people painted their faces at games, but… Nothing, however, can top Charles Cook who wrote a 500-word rip job on me regarding something SOMEONE ELSE WROTE about Dallas always getting a home game on Thanksgiving. "I guess intelligence is not required for your job, so I apologize if the math is a little over your head. I can send my little brother (he is in 5th grade) over to explain it to you. Go to hell Cowboy hater!" I can -- and should -- read hate mail created by the things I spout off about in this column. But I draw the line at having to read OTHER PEOPLE'S HATE MAIL! Charles, Who Helped You Log On?
	Flem Gems
	The Flemings deep fry their turkey every year and every year I am left with the same dilemma: What does one do with FIVE gallons of used cooking oil? Hello, Jiffy Lube? … Separated at birth: Tony Stewart and Ben Affleck. … Jacksonville Thought No. 1: A quick survey of the crowd here makes me think the main reason this city got an NFL franchise in the first place was so folks would always have a place to wear their ill-fitting leopard prints. … Side note to the Martin Gramatica/Todd Sauerbrun feud: If these two make the Pro Bowl Sauerbrun will have to hold for Gramatica on field goals. Guys, have your slapfight and get it over with. It works for NASCAR drivers. … JTN2: The Ohio University band performed at halftime here. This is what I've been reduced to with my alma mater banned from this column. Here's my review: pear-shaped white guys in black polyester trying to dance like Christina Aguilera. So bad it was good. … Saints coach Jim Haslett hates fumbles so much I saw him chase a player into the showers last week to collect a $25 fine for putting the ball on the ground…during practice. … Saints kick returner Michael Lewis isn't scared of linebackers flying at him at 100 MPH but the ducks that wander onto his back porch give him the heebie jeebies. … Some psych major should do their thesis on how buffet lines bring out the worst in all of us. … The end of the Muppets in New York commercial where Animal tells the cabbie to "DRIVE FAST!" is laugh out loud funny. … JTN3: How appropriate: Jerome Bettis broke his nose and John Riggins record for career rushing in the same day. Afterward, some doofus asked him if his nose hurt. "Sh-t man, you ever had a broken nose?" he replied, scrunching up his nose (I think). … JTN4: With all the passing going on in the game nowadays if the Steelers can't improve their pass defense they're doomed in the playoffs. … This column was written while listening to the Indigo Girls.

The next day I'd find something else to do for a living. (Please hold your applause till the end of the column. Hey, at least you wouldn't have to slog through one of those self serving gawd-awful cheese-bucket goodbye columns.)

But not you. "The only thing I really agonized over was not coming back," you say. "We all dream of things as little kids, and I've been dreaming about playing this game all my life. It's fun to play this game for a living and I know lots of people who would trade places with me in a minute. We learn things when we go through bad times and it makes us stronger. I've learned that I depend on guys on this team and they depend on me. This is what I play for -- what I live for."

The problem, then, is mine I suppose. Because I can't decide if this is brave or bull-headed? Is it perspective or tunnel vision? Is this guy a warrior or an idiot? Is this child-like wonderment or horrendous immaturity? Is he an example to our kids or a product of a society so screwed up it ranks Lombardis over lumbars? Is this ignorance or is this bliss or is this both? Is Maddox knowingly risking his health for the good of the team or is he another megalomaniacal athlete with a sense of self-worth inflated since youth to the size of a Thanksgiving parade balloon?

I have to admit, when game time came around and everyone was wondering who would play, I silently whispered, stay down, stay on the bench, don't move. You may be ready to come back, I thought, but I wasn't ready to see you get hit again. And I can tell you this: neither was Bill Cowher and he's as tough as they come. For one more week, at least, we both enjoyed watching you sit there at the end of the game, with the outcome in hand, basking in the sun, your legs crossed, smiling, knowing you'd be going home to your wife, Jennifer, and your two kids, Kacy, 9, and Colby, 3, in one piece.

We all live with risk and it's up to each of us to decide what level is acceptable. I understand that the doctors have cleared you to play and see no signs of stenosis, a narrowing of the spinal cord, or predisposition to this ever happening again. Although the neurologist did wonder what kind of psychological effect this kind of trauma would have on an athlete. I know it was a tame hit compared to some of the licks you've taken over the years. Your wife wants you to play. Your parents want you to play. Your teammates want you to play. Fans want you back. They sent more than 1,000 e-mails and get-well wishes.

And you want to play. Or is it more that you need to play?

But I'm not here to judge you in any way about your decision. Not my place. So perhaps the dilemma is more mine than yours. Maybe the world would be a better place if we all had the same kind of passion for our work or for things as silly as sports. What upsets me then isn't the answer about why you're playing, but the lack of the question. In the end, I guess, none of us should spend more time or energy worrying about this than Maddox himself is willing to expend.

By all accounts you're the kind of guy the league should want to keep. You remind me of that buddy who everyone loves to poke fun of, who is the only guy who answers his phone when your car breaks down in the middle of the night. You struggled for a decade to fulfill your dreams, wended through some of the worst places in professional football, like the XFL, quit the game for two years to schlep insurance, and when Pittsburgh signed you this summer you took less money than they offered. Heck, you pretty much singlehandedly saved the Steelers' season, going 4-1-1 as a starter when one more loss would have doomed the team. You threw for a season-high 473 yards and four TDs against Atlanta.

"I stay in the moment," you say. "I don't look back, I don't look forward and I don't compare and contrast a bunch of things about this decision. I am happy. I'm happy where I'm at and I'm gonna enjoy this as long as I possibly can. I don't think about the injury at all. I just want to get back on the field and think about the next game. This is such a part of who I am, the worst possible thing for me right now would to have to walk away from the game."

Yeah, but at least you'd be walking.

I have seen firsthand how this sport chews up and spits out its warriors. Sometimes, I don't have the stomach to work for the Myth Machine that glorifies the violence and the risks and then turns its back on the long-term ramifications. COMEBACK KID the paper tabbed you in Jacksonville, where you acted as the holder on the Steelers' record six field goals on Sunday.

But I've seen the mangled visages, the twisted knees, the fingers pointing the wrong way. I've listened to the multiply-concussed Troy Aikman refer to the Eagles as the Phillies. I've seen Steve Young helped out of the locker room like an 80-year-old man.

Young left the game rather than risk further injury. You've decided to come back. Who is smarter? Who is more brave? I think it's Young. I think it takes way more perspective and fortitude to walk away from something you cherish than to hang around.

Flying home after the game, I overheard some Steeler fans talking about the game against the Jags. "We" looked really good running the ball, they said. "We" have a good shot for a home game in the playoffs, they said. "We" played well against the run.

Funny, Tommy, but I never heard them wonder out loud whether or not "We" would go numb from the neck down again.

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at FlemFile@carolina.rr.com. But watch out -- you could be the WHYLO of the Week.