Donovan McNabb’s worst (and only) enemy: Donovan McNabb | Marcus Hayes

I’ve advocated for Donovan McNabb since Carson Wentz was 6 years old.

I’ve been explaining and excusing his play and his behavior from the moment former and current Raiders coach Jon Gruden told me at the Senior Bowl that McNabb would be the best quarterback in the hyper-hyped 1999 quarterback class.

For two decades I’ve contended that McNabb’s significance in the NFL as a well-spoken, athletic, black quarterback with a cannon arm capable of running a complex offense for a demanding coach, often with minimal weaponry, helped erase a demeaning narrative that dogged generations of black quarterbacks that preceded him. I believe these things still.

I just wish McNabb would stop punching himself in the face.

He can’t help himself. Until he can, he’ll only hurt himself, and push the things he wants -- respect, love, immortality -- farther and farther from his grasp.

He utterly lacks self-awareness. He is allergic to humility. His insecurities betray what I know to be a decent guy who happened to be a great player. He isn’t just his own worst enemy; he’s his only enemy. Nobody wishes to author McNabb’s demise. It is, in his case, an autobiography.

Yes, most of McNabb’s controversies stem from him answering questions. But could he, just once, not take the bait? Has he ever even seen the high road? Must he always promote himself -- or, worse, must he so often diminish Wentz, his rightful heir?

McNabb’s latest contention: He told TMZ Sports on Friday that he “absolutely” should be in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, mainly because Troy Aikman made it and because Eli Manning, who is a two-time Super Bowl MVP, likely will make it, too. He could have said, “I’d love to make it one day, and hopefully the voters will more closely consider all that I’ve accomplished, but that isn’t up to me." But no. And, three days later, Philadelphia cannot stop talking about this.

» READ MORE: What Donovan McNabb said to TMZ

It is, after all, McNabb -- the athlete who, like Allen Iverson, ruled the city for a decade; but who, unlike The Answer, never made himself vulnerable. Iverson was raw. McNabb was packaged. Philly loves raw, so Philly loves Iverson.

As for McNabb’s Hall of Fame contention: His stats might compare favorably to Aikman’s, but his argument collapses when you consider their playoff performances. McNabb’s career postseason passer rating is 80.0, is 8.3 points lower than Aikman’s, 7.4 lower than Manning’s. McNabb’s best rating was 94.6, after the 2004 season, when he went to his only Super Bowl. Aikman had ratings of 126.4, 104.0, and 106.1 after the 1992, 1993 and 1995 seasons. He won all three of those Super Bowls, and was MVP in his first. Manning’s playoff ratings in his Super Bowl seasons were 95.7 after the 2007 season and 103.3 after the 2011 season.

The comparison to Aikman and Manning (and their five rings) actually damages the contention that McNabb does, in fact, deserve a bust in Canton. Maybe he does. I couldn’t care less. I believe halls of fame are silly, and that only hall of famers should vote, and that comparing eras and statistics and intangible values such as leadership and citizenship are objectively impossible. Feel free to have that argument elsewhere.

The point here: McNabb’s mouth has hurt his legacy far more than his 2010 and 2011 seasons, when he was awful in Washington, and then in Minnesota, and then gone.

His enmity with Philadelphia began after McNabb was traded to Washington. He returned to Philadelphia in Game 4 of the 2010 season. Washington won. Afterward, fully aware that cameras were rolling in the locker room, McNabb was awarded the game ball from coach Mike Shanahan, and he issued a compelling, 90-second postgame speech that reeked of leadership -- but finished with a petty shot at the Eagles:

“Everybody makes mistakes their lifetime, and they made one last year.”

Did they? McNabb had completed eight passes in that game. The Eagles won the division. Washington finished last. McNabb, then 34, had, by every measure, the worst season of his career.

He was the Ultimate Weapon 2.0 as a player, and McNabb has remained a double-threat deep into retirement: He shoots himself in one foot while he puts the other in his mouth.

Last month he told CBS Sports Radio that if Wentz doesn’t lead the Eagles to the NFC Championship Game within the next three seasons, the Eagles should draft a replacement. Three days later he defended himself on SportsRadio 94WIP thus: “All I was doing was being an analyst and honest in my comments.”

» READ MORE: Donovan McNabb says Eagles should move on from Carson Wentz if he can’t deliver playoff success

No. What he was doing was criticizing the present franchise quarterback, again, well aware of the fallout. After all, he once told BillyPenn.com that both signing Sam Bradford to an extension and trading up for Wentz in the 2016 offseason was “dumb.” This, from a guy who on Twitter, asked if Game 6 of the best-of-seven 2013 NBA Finals was a must-win for both teams.

McNabb’s image has somehow survived the disgrace of being twice sentenced to jail time for DUI’s, which cost him his job at Fox Sports; and, last year, losing his job as an ESPN analyst amid allegations of sexual harassment. How? He’s charismatic, he’s well-presented, and he was a superstar. That’s how.

Frankly, that’s all he needs to be. That’s what might get him into the Hall of Fame. Maturity. Humility. Grace. He is capable of all of these.

I’ve watched Donovan since 1994. Since he redshirted on the football team, and tried to convince the Syracuse athletic department that he was equally good at basketball (he failed). Since he won the 1995 spring quarterback battle with Kevin Johnson, who became a pretty good NFL receiver. Since a woman named Raquel “Roxi” Nurse landed at SU as a blue-chip point guard recruit (I covered her team) and immediately stole his heart. They married in 2003.

I know he’s sensitive ... about being portly; about being a black quarterback -- and, incredibly, about being accused of not being a black enough quarterback; and, especially, about not being wanted.

McNabb has never forgotten how a two busloads of radio listeners went to Madison Square Garden to boo his selection with the No. 2 overall pick in the 1999 draft because they preferred Texas running back Ricky Williams. It’s a hard thing to forget, and harder to forgive. But his refusal to do so only hurts one person: Donovan McNabb.

I realize I’m not McNabb’s only advocate. I know I ’m not the only one who saw his immense potential as a young player; who appreciated his abilities more than his shortcomings in his prime; and who now considers him the best quarterback in franchise history.

But it’s getting harder to defend McNabb in retirement than it was to defend him on the field when he played.

Get insights on the Eagles delivered straight to your inbox with Early Birds, beat writer Zach Berman’s newsletter for Eagles fans. Click here to sign up.