Lamar Jackson is out again today at Cleveland, his second straight miss, and two weeks ago nobody in Baltimore made it sound like a big deal.
After the Tennessee game, coach Jesse Minter described it as “a little bit of an ankle” issue, then tacked on “we hope.” He also said, “We don’t know enough about it right now.” Jackson had left in a boot and never came back after halftime. He’s since missed the Atlanta game, and as of Friday he hadn’t practiced in 12 days. Minter’s current description of his status is day-to-day, which at this point is a joke with no punchline.
I’d call that a one-off if it were one. It’s the pattern. In December 2021, John Harbaugh said the plan “in my mind” was for Lamar to play against Green Bay. Jackson was ruled out shortly before kickoff and missed the last four games of the season. Harbaugh later called it a “tricky bone bruise” that was slow to heal because of poor blood flow in that part of the ankle, an explanation that came after the season was over.
In December 2022, after Jackson hurt his knee against Denver, Harbaugh said it was “not a season-ending type of knee.” Two days later it was week-to-week. Jackson missed the final six games and the playoff loss to Cincinnati, and at one point, with him sitting out practice for the tenth straight day, Harbaugh wouldn’t even confirm what the injury was. His words: “It’s not for me to say.” Then came last December, when Harbaugh called a back contusion “significant” but said the MRI showed nothing more and it “doesn’t look like it’s more than that.” Jackson sat out the next game at Green Bay.
Here’s what bugs me. The teams keep telling us it’s minor, or telling us nothing, and then a franchise quarterback vanishes for weeks. Either the injuries are worse than the Ravens let on, or he’s slower to come back than the coaches admit. The team won’t say which, so the rest of us fill the gap with the cheapest word available, and that word is soft.
I’ll own that I used it. I watched him leave games that looked survivable and then disappear, and I figured the toughness question answered itself. But I can’t prove it, and neither can anyone else, because the only people who know are the ones choosing not to talk. A sprained PCL and a bone bruise that ended a season are real injuries, he’s won two MVP awards, and a running quarterback absorbs far more contact than a guy standing in the pocket. Some of this is probably the Ravens playing hide-the-ball for the opposing coaches, which is a fine strategy that costs Jackson his reputation.
But he’s also on a five-year, $260 million contract with $185 million of it guaranteed. At that price, “trust us, it’s a little bit of an ankle” doesn’t cut it, and neither does a shrug when he’s gone three weeks later. He’s missed 18 regular-season games since 2020 by my count, a couple of them for COVID and illness.
My two cents: I can’t call him soft without proof, but the Ravens have spent five years making it impossible to call him anything else, and that’s on them.
Photo by Maryland GovPics via Openverse, licensed CC BY.