Even before the two concussions, three weeks apart, that cast a pall over his career, a series of injuries had robbed Westbrook of some of his otherworldly explosiveness.
Maybe it is premature to write an elegy to Westbrook's career. Frankly, I hope it is. Maybe if he shuts it down for 2009 and rests his body - from his jostled brain to his knees to his chronically sore ankles - there's a chance for him to heal completely and regain that spark. Maybe.
Coach Andy Reid said yesterday that it was "too soon" to know if Westbrook's second concussion - sustained on another screen pass, later in the game - would end his season.
It may be "too soon" for Reid, but it is too late for Westbrook. Whatever a franchise's responsibility for allowing an injured player to return, it is ultimately up to the player to decide whether his future ability to speak and think clearly means more than extending an already special football career.
Westbrook needs friends and family to tell him, right now, that his 2009 season is over and that 2010 and beyond depend entirely on how his brain recovers after six months without trauma.
In my first year covering the Eagles, the team traded Wilbert Montgomery to the Detroit Lions during training camp for a linebacker named Garry Cobb. Long before he was G. Cobb and commenting on the team on his own Web site, he was the compensation for one of the most beloved players in Eagles history. And you know what? The Eagles got the better of that trade.
The writers who had covered Montgomery talked about him with near reverence, a rarity among the sometimes cynical scribes. There was a toughness about Wilbert that had the folksy old trainer, Otho Davis, shaking his head in awe. For a while, the equipment man wouldn't give out No. 31. He had informally retired the number out of respect for the guy.
