Ricky who?

Before anyone gets too worked up about Ricky Williams retiring so he can spend more time with his bong, let me bring up one name.

Priest Holmes.

Naturally, there is great hand wringing and teeth-gnashing in Dolphin Nation right now. The news that came down Sunday (via Ricky's personal "Al-Shahaaf" Dan Lebetard) was a cruel sucker punch to the gut.

But before any Dolphins fan says "we're doomed," let me raise a perhaps delicate point. Your team missed the playoffs the last two years WITH Ricky. So what's the crisis?

Statistically speaking, Ricky was a tremendous player. His totals of 383 and 392 carries the last two years is simply sick. Ricky was almost unmatched in the NFL for sheer workhorse-like durability.

But at the end of the day, so what?

The line I hear a lot of right now is, "How is Miami going to replace those 1,300 to 1,800 yards from Ricky?"

Answer: Easy. By giving the ball to two or three guys who will probably total between 400-600 yards each.

Will it be as artistic as the dreadlocked wonder? No. Will it make fantasy football players happy? Of course not. But here's the beauty of the NFL: a week or so from now, nobody is going to really care that Ricky is off in Ankara, Turkey, sucking on a hookah, because this league plows ahead without stopping or getting sentimental.

It did when Jim Brown retired. And again when Barry Sanders left all of a sudden. Robert Smith, ditto. As the saying goes, "The dogs bark, but the caravan moves on."

Besides, nobody knows how many good years Ricky had left in him anyway. A cracked fibula, dislocated knee, chronically sprained hamstring, or any other such injury was always just a bad throw of the football dice away from happening.

NFL careers in general are short (roughly four seasons, if you are lucky). For runningbacks, even shorter (see Carter, Ki-Jana). The end comes quickly and rarely gives anyone a 30-day notice letter.

Ricky just beat all these factors to the punch. And good for him, I suppose. If smoking weed is really that important to him, then go be stoned in happiness. Since I don't think he's married (that thing with Ditka was annulled due to irreconcilable differences) he should be plenty rich right now.

Given the relatively cheap cost of marijuana as a recreational drug, I would guess that Ricky could stay shrouded in a cloud of cannabis for many years to come. It's when he decides he wants to get a wife with a credit card and some kids that he'll have to start watching his pennies. (Plus, she'll probably only let him "spark up" on the back porch anyway).

Basically, the job Ricky Williams had was simply a well compensated prison. The great thing is, there's a long line of hungry young men who are trying to dig a tunnel through hardened rock and concrete to get into that prison.

Have you ever heard the saying: "For every hot looking woman, there's at least one guy who is getting bored with sleeping with her?" So too you could say that for every so-called "dream job." There's at least one guy who is growing weary of showing up at work on Mondays.

I mentioned Holmes at the beginning of this column as the perfect polar opposite to Ricky. Both were teammates while at Texas, as some people forget. And while Ricky came out of Austin with all the awards, all the records, and all the pedigree, guess who is the NFL "cock of the walk" now?

Holmes was never deemed to be worthy of any draft picks in order to secure his services. In fact, the Chiefs picked him out of the Ravens waiver wire rubbish following their Super Bowl victory.

Meanwhile, the shorthand recollection of Ditka's trade up to get Ricky in 1999, is that he "traded a whole draft" just to get him.

Not true.

A quick little thing called a "Google search" reminds us forgetful fans that Ditka ALSO traded a No. 1 and a No. 3 the following year in that deal! Adding them all up, Ricky Williams was deemed by two organizations to be worth the equal of four No. 1 picks (three that were swapped, along with the one to take him) and five other selections for a whopping nine for one exchange!

Jim Brown in his prime wasn't even worth that!

(Note: The Ditka deal for Williams remains the most lightly treated blunder in the history of sports, in my opinion. Maybe it is because Ditka has a gruff-but-loveable persona that he doesn't get shamed for this deal as much as he should. Or maybe it's because one blunder by Ditka led to an even greater blunder by Ricky in having a rapper (a rapper!) negotiate his initial contract. This deal was the predictable product of what happens when you give a degenerate gambler full control of an NFL team. Anybody who knows Ditka, knows that his golf course wagering and riverboat card sessions are not the stuff of legend, but very much the real deal. So trading all those picks for one player on a gut feeling as Ditka did, very much fits the mold of a guy who tries to "buy the pot" on a game of No-Limit Hold 'Em with a pair of deuces. Speaking of deuces ...)

The Saints later took Deuce McAllister with the 23rd overall pick in the first round, and didn't have to move an inch to go get him. Another spin of the "Google machine" reveals that while Ricky had 3,225 yards and 27 combined TDs the last two years, McAllister had 3,029 and 24.

So I suppose what I am trying to say is, "everybody please remain calm."

Without Ricky, the Dolphins will be forced to be more versatile offensively, and not sit back for three quarters every Sunday waiting for No. 34 to rescue them. Plus, you just never know who will be the breakout guy that emerges from this sudden opportunity.

For every Ricky Williams that walks away from a job, there's almost always a Rudi Johnson, Kevan Barlow or Travis Henry ready to take those 300-some carries.

And run like hell.