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The cruel, unfair world of backup quarterbacks

Can your backup quarterback win you games and lead you to championship glory? Depends on who you ask.

For guys like Calgary's Kevin Glenn, Toronto's Jarious Jackson, Edmonton's Kerry Joseph and Winnipeg's Joey Elliott — backups when the season started — they'll let their play on the field answer those questions. But for others, in a game that judges its athletes based on their last performance, answering becomes more problematic when your last performance was spent holding a clipboard.

For backups who've never been given the chance to prove they can consistently perform at an elite level, shedding the stigma and overcoming the stereotyping that comes with sitting second, third or fourth on a teams depth chart, will always prove challenging. Especially in pro football, where second chances are rare and first impressions sometimes last a lifetime.

If ever there existed an example for a title or a name to describe an athlete's performance, look no further than the label 'backup quarterback.' It's kind of like naming your son 'Flash' or 'Tank.' It has a built-in expectation. And in the case of 'backup QB', a lowered one.

In a sport that shows little tolerance for failure, backup quarterbacks sometimes get a free pass. And why wouldn't they? When little is achieved from those whom very little was expected, the criticism will never be too harsh. If they fail miserably: "What did you expect? He's a back-up." And if they overwhelm in their performance: "For a back-up, he played really well."

For quarterbacks trying desperately to escape the confines of the sidelines, endorsements suddenly read like indictments and the typecasting begins.

Back-up quarterbacks live strange careers. Rarely do they ever get the respect they deserve. Once labelled a 'backup', their play, their stats and possibly their entire careers, all of a sudden come with qualifiers or worse yet, a built in excuse.

Can anyone really blame the football-watching public for jumping to performance conclusions, when every QB not anointed 'the chosen-one' on opening day, gets saddled with the label 'second string' or 'backup?'

Even the term 'backup' seems oxymoronic in the lexicon of pro sports. Rarely does it represent excellence. And it certainly doesn't convey that competitive greatness that inspires a fan base. Rather, it conjures up images of mediocrity and less than flattering descriptions like 'not ready' or 'not good enough.'

There's nothing wrong with being the backup, but let's face facts: No athlete will ever aspire to backup status while being appreciative of that label and no fan will ever be fully accepting. It's kind of like taking your second choice to the prom. Or settling on a movie because the one you really wanted to see was sold out. A trip to the White House to meet the President is certainly an unprecedented occasion. But suppose instead, the vice-president showed up in his absence. It doesn't quite carry the same exhilaration.
A backup plan, the next best thing, a second choice by any other name will always come with a certain level of built-in disappointment. Not fair if you're the one doing the 'backingup' but a reality none the less; one in need of a complete rethink.

We could just change the name. I suppose 'replacement' might have been a little better. That was until the NFL decided to stick it to their refs and allow a certain group of very unqualified officials to taint that moniker for the rest of the sporting world. Even in baseball, 'reliever' sounds so much better than 'injury call-up.' Who wants to be named an 'alternate' to a sporting team. If for some reason the real players on the squad can't perform, then they'll consider using you? Not the most inspirational message.

Unfortunately, changing the name will never change the perception. For a quarterback all of a sudden thrust into a staring role, the dilemma isn't so much solving the defence of your next opponent but rather, overcoming the stigma of a term that can wreak havoc on your confidence level. Call them backups, substitutes, second stringers or whatever. In the end, your title will never define who you are. That process will always unfold on the playing field.