Terence Moore: Vick, Falcons Finished

He’s gone. Whether that means for the season or forever in the NFL is debatable, but this isn’t: No way Michael Vick ever plays again for the Falcons.

No way Michael Vick ever can play again for the Falcons.

More specifically, given the ugliness and the intensity surrounding his dogfighting indictment, no way Michael Vick ever should play again for the Falcons. The fact that the NFL ordered the beleaguered quarterback on Monday night to stay away from training camp was the beginning of the end for Vick in Atlanta.

If nothing else, Vick is guilty of stupidity in the first degree. He says he wasn’t aware of illegal dogfighting in this case, but it happened on his property in Virginia for five years. Plus, most of those involved were from his boyhood “crew” that he regularly swore allegiance to despite the criminal past of its members and warnings from former coach Dan Reeves.

He’s gone, all right. Even if Vick loses his mind during the next few days by not taking the deal proposed by the league, players union and Falcons officials that would give Vick a lengthy paid leave of absence, he is gone anyway. If he ignores the deal, he will be suspended by the league. All you had to do was listen to NFL spokesman Greg Aiello reemphasize over the phone from New York that commissioner Roger Goodell is obsessed with doing whatever it takes to “protect the shield.”

Translated: Image is everything to Goodell and league owners.

“I mean, it’s well understood that the commissioner has a key role in maintaining the integrity of the league,” said Aiello, referring to NFL commissioners in general but to this one in particular. Despite less than a year on the job, Goodell’s nickname already could be “ruthless,” especially when it comes to discipline.

Added Aiello, while sifting through the league bylaws on his desk, “Detrimental conduct, the commissioner is authorized to take appropriate steps as he deems necessary and is proper in the best interest of the league or either professional football.” Aiello kept sifting, before saying, “When anyone connected with the league or any member thereof is guilty of any conduct detrimental either to the league, its clubs or to professional football …”

Aiello didn’t finish.

He’s gone.

If Vick doesn’t go by himself, or if Goodell miraculously turns soft, the Falcons should just cut him. The $22 million salary cap hit they’d take over the next two years would be less than the financial hit they’d take from lost advertising and ticket sales with a PR-damaged Vick on their roster.

It doesn’t matter whether or not Vick spent a millisecond watching pitbulls gnaw at each other for sport. It doesn’t matter whether or not he participated in the electrocution, drowning, shooting, hanging or crushing of losing dogs. It doesn’t matter whether or not he threw money toward the activity. It doesn’t matter whether or not he had knowledge any of this was happening. You won’t succeed as an NFL franchise with a heavy dose of turmoil in your world. It’s bad enough if the focus of that turmoil is a wide receiver such as Terrell Owens or a cornerback such as Pacman Jones, but if it’s a quarterback, forget it.

Worse, for the Falcons, Vick already was the most polarizing force in the history of Atlanta sports. You can blame it on his uneven play as a dramatic runner with an erratic arm combined with his hip-hop ways. Now you have this dogfighting mess with animal rights protestors fuming, active and growing from Washington D.C. to Flowery Branch.

You had one U.S. senator shaking and screaming his disgust with Vick and dogfighting on the floor of the Capitol. You had another U.S. senator proposing legislation to end dogfighting and urging the NFL to get rid of Vick.

Even if Vick finds a way to make puppies fly by joining the five percent of those who ever have beaten the feds, he’d become the Falcons’ O.J. Simpson in the eyes of thousands or millions — an African-American with lots of money who had the audacity to get away with something.

Imagine the barking from coast to coast, and then imagine all of those empty seats at the Georgia Dome.

Oh, he’s gone.