WILLIAMS' RETIREMENT SENDS SMOKE SIGNALS OF A DEEPER PROBLEM

So, Ricky Williams would rather smoke grass than smoke opposing NFL
defenses.

The recently retired Miami Dolphins running back has decided he would
rather blow some weed than blow past some linebacker. He would sooner
do blaze than blaze out of a backfield. He would prefer to cozy up
with Mary Jane than return to the team he reworked a rich five-year
contract with two seasons ago.

Williams' buds are no longer the ones on the field. A pot of money -
he could have made up to $6 million this season - doesn't have the
allure of a nickel bag of pot. "Getting outside" for a big gain is not
important to Williams; "getting high" anywhere, anytime, is.

Just 27 years old, in the prime of his playing career, the former
Heisman Trophy winner made the call last week from Hawaii, an audible
by cell phone to Dolphins coach Dave Wannstedt. We don't know if
Williams was enjoying a little "Maui wowie" at the time he called, but
we have to wonder.

Not that doing unusual things - with or without the aid of marijuana
- - is out of character for Williams.

That's because Williams suffers from social anxiety disorder, and,
consequently, he has never felt comfortable in the public spotlight.
When he broke into the league in 1999, playing for the New Orleans
Saints, Williams frequently conducted postgame interviews in front of
his locker while still wearing his helmet, deathly afraid he would not
speak correctly.

That's what SAD, the third-most prevalent psychological disorder in
the United States, can do to people. Social anxiety disorder is
brought on by a fear of being judged poorly by others, which leads to
feelings of inadequacy, depression and humiliation when in a public
setting. It can range from mild to severe, with severe bouts lasting
for days, even weeks.

Since it takes something of an extroverted personality to be the focal
point of 150,000 prying eyes on any given Sunday -- and then to deal
with an inquiring media afterward -- Williams chose to step away from
football rather than to "live in fear," as his younger sister Nisey
told The Dallas Morning News on Thursday.

"So he is opening up about everything and not living a lie," she
said.

That "opening up" includes Williams' admission that he desires to
continue smoking marijuana, which he says helps him in coping with his
social phobia. Williams told the Miami Herald on Thursday he had
failed a third drug test for marijuana use, which would have resulted
in a four-game suspension had he continued to play this season.

It wasn't as if Williams didn't know what was coming. The personal
peace that marijuana brought him was more important than the
opportunity to play the game he grew up loving.

"I didn't quit football because I failed a drug test," he told the
Miami paper. "I failed a drug test because I was ready to quit football."

Williams had tried the prescription anti-depressant Paxil in an
attempt to ease the intense SAD episodes he suffered, but the drug
didn't agree with his diet. So he turned to marijuana, and now
Williams says he feels "free" -- "free" to live without concern of
public judgment and the fear he somehow isn't good enough.

Apparently, not knowing means not caring.

When the news of Williams' retirement broke last weekend, my initial
reaction was that he was simply doing what he does best: running. He
was running from a drug problem he couldn't shake, and rather than get
professional help he chose the easy way out by announcing an end to
his career.

Just another pro athlete with immense talent letting his career go up
in smoke. Just another bad message being sent to young football fans.

But as the story unfolded, it became obvious Williams had found a
solution -- albeit, illegal -- to his problem. Yes, he could feel
normal, but it meant doing something many of us see as abnormal to
make it happen.

Which makes us wonder how many people who are "addicted" to marijuana
use it to mask some omnipresent social fear? How many teens who smoke
dope do so because, inwardly, they see themselves as dopes of another
variety and getting high is an easy way to hide, if only temporarily?

Perhaps Ricky Williams' shocking retirement has taught us something:
Nothing is more important than feeling normal and accepted, and, as
fragile beings, we're willing to sacrifice everything -- and try
anything -- to feel that way.