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Newest Hall of Famers
return to the sandlot

THEY came to the ceremony straight from the field, which was perfect, just the way it ought to be. Just the way they'd always hoped. Just the way this story should be written.

Everyone should feel this feeling.

Still sweating, they were headed for the Hall of Fame.

The game itself, the one they'd just played in, yesterday, was a made-for-TV flag football geezer bowl, that's true. But that didn't diminish a thing, somehow. It fit just right. On a day in which so many old feelings came rushing back, it made sense that their last football action would feel just like playing in the yard.

This was how it all began so many years ago.

"It was fun, actually," said Dan Marino, as if the realization was sinking in that he'd stolen one more day as a kid throwing a ball on the grass in the sun.

"I think I pulled my back," Steve Young said.

A second earlier Young took off his old No. 8 -- one last time, he'd rolled up the sleeves like some cheesy fashion statement out of an old '80s teen dramedy -- slipped on a nice shirt, and went to the podium, like Superman in reverse. Just like that. Their playing days were over. They were going to the Hall of Fame.

This is Pro Bowl week, and that means we meet another new class on its way to Canton. Old-time greats Benny Friedman and Fritz Pollard, no longer with us. Still superstar quarterbacks Marino and Young.

"It's funny, when it was announced, I heard Dan when he was talking about when he was growing up in Pittsburgh and playing in the front yard," Young said. "And all of a sudden, I swear, it was like everything leapt back, from the first time I ever stepped on the field as an 8-year-old. And the veins just started popping in my head; you know, people who had coached you."

All the teammates. All the moments. All the little things shared in a lifetime of practices and games.

So many memories.

"Actually one night I just sat back, had some wine and listened to the messages," Marino said.

It's a sweet thing, the celebration of a great career.

But it also means it's over. It really, really is.

"It was different," Marino said of retirement. "Really different. It took a while, but ... the first couple years, you know, it's hard to deal with. Because you want to be still playing. You want to still play."

"I still want to play," Young said.

"The hardest thing when you retire is realizing you're not good at anything anymore," Young said. "I mean, I was great at something, but now I'm not doing it anymore. So what else are you good at? Well ..."

"Speak for yourself," Marino said.

It was a line designed for a laugh, but after playing the game for 30 years Marino knows the feeling, too. All old football players do.

"I went for the first exhibition game (after retiring) -- and I didn't want to go," Marino said. "And then all of a sudden, I couldn't stay away."

"I started to do a little of the broadcasting, just to get out some of my anxieties of not playing football. At least I could talk about it," Young said.

"I thought you did it for the money," Marino said.

And everyone laughed again. Those old feelings won't go away, but these two seem at peace now, Marino, the old Dolphins gunslinger; Young, the old BYU Cougar, the original Michael Vick.

They shared memories of facing each other in the rain. Of Pro Bowls past.

Young recalled telling Troy Aikman he'd play the whole second half so Aikman could dig out early and catch a flight. But, for the first time in Pro Bowl history, people were actually keeping track of what the players were doing during the game.

"Finally I said, 'Look -- he's gone. He left. All right, don't worry about it! I've got things covered.' "

And Marino, as a rookie, having Marcus Allen set him straight on what the Pro Bowl is all about:

"Right before we're getting ready to go on the field he grabs me and, 'Listen. The most important thing in this game that you've got to remember, is, Don't you throw me the ball.' "

Yeah, these two guys seem like they are at peace. Like they are old now, and happy about it. Like they are ex-players, and that's just fine. These past few days have been emotional, sweet. A great finish. A fitting end.

But the thing about football is that it will never truly let you go.

"Once you're great at something, put it in perspective," Young said. "If you were a great surgeon, you know, and you've done it your whole life -- and then they told you you couldn't do it anymore. You'd go crazy."

Steve Young is still crazy, just a little, deep in his dreams, late at night. But that's OK. For a morning, he was 8 years old again. He was a kid in the sun, and headed for the Hall of Fame.