TAMPA - In his dream, the crowd was always standing. The stadium was familiar, the sound was joyous and the time was right. John Lynch would walk proudly from the field, leaving cheers and memories forever in his wake.
In his dream, there was never a long-distance phone call from a virtual stranger telling him the Buccaneers no longer needed John Lynch.
So much for a storybook finish to a wondrous tenure. After all Lynch has given the Bucs, they were unwilling to accommodate him on his way out.
This is what we are left to assume. Because Lynch made it clear he wanted to stay and the Bucs made it obvious they did not want him around.
By now, we have learned to accept loyalty rarely comes first. But shouldn't it count for something? For anything?
Forget the spin. This was not about money, because Lynch was willing to renegotiate his contract and the Bucs never made an offer. This was not about health, because Lynch has been given medical clearance and Jon Gruden never has been leery of sending a dinged player back on the field.
This was something else. Something that deserved a better justification than the silly subterfuge general manager Bruce Allen tried peddling.
At this point, a gold watch really wasn't necessary. A plausible explanation, however, would have been nice.
Allen kept talking about doing what was best for Lynch while conveniently ignoring the reality that Lynch's preference was to remain in Tampa Bay.
Was it because Lynch was no longer the impact player he had been? That's certainly a legitimate consideration. Lynch does not move to the ball in quite the way our memories recall. And the drop-them-in-their-tracks hits are seen with far less frequency.
But the Bucs didn't say that.
And even if they felt that way, why not give Lynch the opportunity to come to training camp for what might be his final fling? Even if they believed Jermaine Phillips would beat him out. Even if they expected Lynch would be waived. If that were Lynch's wish, hasn't he at least earned the opportunity?
In the past year, Gruden has brought Andre Rison in for a tryout. He was willing to yank Jamal Anderson out of retirement. He fought with Rich McKay to give Darrell Russell a shot.
Yet Lynch doesn't even get a chance?
There is something profoundly wrong with that. Something that deserves better than vague excuses and insincere platitudes.
The only explanation that makes sense is Gruden wants to purge the memories of 2003 by revamping One Buc Place.
So Keyshawn Johnson is cut loose. McKay is offered an escape route. Warren Sapp is left to dangle. And Lynch is told not to bother coming back.
Gruden repeatedly talked about his love for Lynch on Thursday afternoon but acknowledged he never called him about a parting of ways.
"I'm going to leave the legend of John Lynch alone and wish him well," Gruden said. "We're parting ways. It doesn't mean we don't love him."
Let's not kid ourselves. This is more business than sport. The Bucs are free to do whatever they feel is in their best interests, and they always have.
But at some point, grace matters. Dignity needs to be considered. Every once in a while, a person comes along who deserves better.
Lynch has been that person. He is the rare player who blends athletic talent with human compassion. An athlete who has used his influence on the field to make an impact in his community.
Have you ever met a person with an unkind word to say about Lynch? Of all the players who have passed through the doors of One Buc Place in the past 10 years, have any represented the organization in a better fashion? His smile was infectious and his concern was genuine.
His final days as a Buc should have been reserved for an uplifting debate of his legacy, not a probe into why this union was prematurely dissolved.
"He's a brilliant football player and a brilliant leader," Gruden said. "He is a bright light that is going to be hard to replace."
To the very end, Lynch was the perfect company man. Even when the company was shoving him out the door.
Lynch would not criticize the organization Thursday. He cried a little when he talked about leaving and he wondered aloud when asked the reasons why.
But he did not lash out. He did not complain, and he did not accuse.
"I don't agree with their decision," Lynch said. "But I respect it."
He was asked how his career should have ended. Whether he deserved a fairy-tale type of climax with a crowd calling his name a final time.
Lynch chuckled. To be honest, he said, he had dreamed of such a moment.
Instead, he got a phone call.
It came at a time when he wasn't ready to say goodbye.
