Thirteen years ago today, O.J. Simpson was found "not guilty" of two grisly murders much of America thinks he committed.
On Thursday, a Las Vegas jury heard closing arguments in Simpson's armed robbery trial.
For a long time, Simpson's name has been spoken in horror when the topic was humanity.
But in the context of sports – a world Simpson once ruled – his name is rarely spoken at all.
We seem to pretend that "the Juice" never lived on the cover of sports pages and highlight reels of the 1960s and 70s.
The name O.J. Simpson is a sports taboo we rarely acknowledge.
Maybe its partly out of respect for the Brown and Goldman families, who believe Simpson walked free on Oct. 3, 1995, for the killings of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman.
Or maybe it's the natural inclination to keep the sports pages as the toy department – where real life is a buzz kill for games we all instinctively pimp.
Or maybe – for some of us, anyway – it's because we're loath to admit how much Simpson once thrilled us. We don't want to remember that Simpson was a cultural icon like few other athletes.
Honestly. Name an athlete today who is a star on the field, on television, in movies and in commercials – all at the same time.
He doesn't exist. A-Rod, LeBron James and Kobe Bryant are minor players compared to what Simpson was 30 years ago, when he was an NFL immortal.
And whether we admit it or not, Simpson was Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods before there was a Michael Jordan and Tiger Woods.
In some ways, Simpson was bigger.
Be angry if you wish, but that's a true statement. That's why it's better to stop pretending that Simpson the idol never lived.
Some would argue that remembering Simpson's vaunted status in pop culture is like giving O.J. the killer another pass.
It's not. His life after football proves that games are only games. It proves that greatness is a misused term in sports – and that sanctity of life trumps the trappings of fame.
The infamous verdict of 13 years ago notwithstanding, Simpson's descent to hell also proves that no one is above the justice of time. Let's face up to that.
As a teenager, I went to my first NFL game in 1978 because I wanted to see Simpson close up. I'll never forget him rushing for 2,003 yards in the 1973 season. Or his 1968 Heisman Trophy, his movies, Hertz commercials and on-air banter with Howard Cosell on ABC.
And because he hailed from Northern California, Simpson was like an idol – until I sat in his courtroom as a Bee reporter, convinced of his guilt.
That's when my admiration for Simpson died. Why pretend it never existed?
It's better to remember the whole story instead of acting as if it didn't happen at all.
Call The Bee's Marcos Bretón, (916) 321-1096.
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