u/L1L_TAMALE

I'm aware Doug didn't have the awards and championships that players like Jerry Rice, Megatron, Randy, T.O. did. But if we take away from that and focus purely on raw skill alone, could Doug be top 5?

Doug was very under rated, I think every Seahawks fan would agree if they watched him play. He almost never got the respect he really deserved even though he was a 2x pro bowler and a Super Bowl champion.

While his stats weren't exactly "elite" like we would call players like Larry's, or Julio's; but they weren't just "Okay" either. Doug had one of the best first steps we've ever seen in a WR as well as very good catching, RAC, and YAC. His scramble drill (I'm not sure if that's the correct term I'm looking for) was very solid as well, whenever russ was running for his life, DB89 was always open.

So if we ignore the lack of career awards and focus solely on raw skill, could Doug be a top 5 all time, or maybe top 10?

The harsh wind beats relentlessly against the side of the house, the old wood creaking, making it impossible to sleep; though it was never easy anyway. As I lay there in the dark, the soft sound of a child's cry echoes somewhere but the wind drowns it out. Part of me wants to get up and help, but I know it's out there. Sometimes it feels as if it's present in the room with me, even when I know I'm alone, but at times I can hear something breathing from the corner of the room. Of course, I am alone; if it truly was there it wouldn't just watch me, quite frankly I'm not exactly sure what it would do but I really don't care to find out. Outside, the pouring rain and brutal wind continues; over time I could see the wood slowly rotting away, growing weaker and weaker with every storm. Finally I've had enough of just laying down, I lit the candle next to my bed on the little wooden table I got from my grandmother before she passed away, before grabbing it and slowly opening the door and looking into the hallway. I stared into the void, and it stared back; I reached out with the candle, it wasn't much light but at least I could walk. I quietly made my way down the hall, the smell of rotting food growing as I near the kitchen; nearby I heard the soft squeak of a mouse, it scurried away back down the hall. I reach the kitchen, my eyes watering from the foul stench from the fridge. I sit down at the table, the heater is dying; I can feel the temperature drop with each passing second, my toes curl instinctively. The flame of the candle paints the walls with a light amber, the shadows dancing as the windows rattle behind me, the wind is too strong, I'm not sure how much longer they'll hold. I rub my eyes, and scratch the back of my head, the short, bristling hairs prick against my fingertips. I stared at the flickering shadows as I began to doze off; the temperature continued to drop gradually, and my eyelids grew heavier. “So, Mr. Lockette,” I look up, the doctor is looking down at his clipboard with a pen in his hand ready to take notes. “last time you were here, you described the pain as almost insufferable during the night. Has anything changed since then, has the pain gotten worse? Has it gotten better?” I stared for a second, I don't know how to answer. “Um…somewhat better I guess.” I lie, the doctor nods and writes on his clipboard. “Perfect, well it's always good to see progress, even if it's small. So let me ask this: how often have you been taking your medication?” I freeze for a moment, I can't tell him no, but I can't lie either. The doctor nods silently and writes down on his clipboard again. “Okay, judging by your silence I'm going to assume it is a ‘no’? If so, I would highly encourage you to- ""Did you know that in ancient Rome, Immurement was a popular form of execution?” The doctor looks up from his clipboard with a shocked expression. “What? What's the matter?” “O-Oh uh nothing! I-I-I didn't know that, no. That's…interesting isn't it? Now, Mr. Lockette, back to our previous conversation; I would highly recommend you take your medication at least 3-4 times a week.” I didn't understand why he was acting so strange. “Okay 3-4 times a week, got it.” The doctor nods and turns to his computer. “Doctor…” He turns his head back towards me with a raised eyebrow. “Did you know that Immurement was a very popular form of execution back in ancient Rome? I mean, that's just crazy ain't it? I mean having a group of people building a wall around you, trapping you inside as you slowly die from hunger and dehydration. Every sliver of hope you have of living…just gone…like that. Crazy.” I look back up at the doctor, he's smiling, but his eyes are lying to my face. “What’s wrong, doctor?” He fumbles his clipboard trying to stand up. “Well Mr. Lockette, today was a very good check in; evidently you have been doing much better than our last visit. Now, it's time for you to go.” He's trying to kick me out, how dare he try to kick me out! He has no right to kick me out, this freaking scum bag, if I could I'd jump up and tear off this guy's arms and shove them so far up his- “Daddy, wake up.” My eyes snap open, I feel the cold breeze immediately. I'm greeted by my daughter, her clothes torn like mine, she grips her blanket, knuckles white, her face barely illuminated by the dying candle on the table. “What is it baby?” I lean towards her, putting my hand on her exposed shoulder to comfort her, she's stone cold. “Daddy, it's cold. Did you forget to turn the heater on?” Those eyes, sweet, innocent, naive; I couldn't have her worrying, but what if she asks me to turn it on again? I couldn't pay the bill, and now she suffers, the food is already rotten. We haven't eaten in days; sometimes I think I'm better off dead. She'll get put in a better home, a steadier home. She wouldn't notice right? Maybe drug her water and put her in a new home, gaslight her that I never existed, maybe that'd be the best thing to do. “No baby, daddy forgot to pay the bill this month, but it's okay. I'll pay it tomorrow, you can use my blanket if you want to. I'll be fine.” She starts to tear up, she can't stand seeing Daddy being cold at night. “Hey, baby don't cry. Daddy's gonna be alright, okay?” She nods, her lips are quivering, and tears still run down her soft cheek; she turns and slowly makes her way back to her room. I lean back in the chair again, hoping to get some rest. I'm tired of sleeping in that old creaky bed all the time. Though this isn't much better. I try to get comfortable, shifting around looking for the sweet spot to sleep. After a few minutes I finally found it, it's perfect. My legs are evenly spread out and elevated correctly, my back is supported as well as my neck; it's heavenly. I close my eyes and start counting sheep; one sheep, two sheep, three sheep. “I'm sick of you! Every day it's always something different, you can't make it to this, you can't make it to that, I'm too poor, blah blah blah, Quin!” I stayed silent, letting her rant as long as she pleased. This woman couldn't shut up to save her life, and God forbid she ever admit she's wrong. “Quin! Are you even listening to me? That's it, I'm done with you!” She yanks her wedding ring off her finger and throws it at me before storming upstairs to pack her stuff. I stared at the ring until I heard her footsteps stomping downstairs, she was crying hard, her mascara was wrecked, honestly she was hideous. She went on and on about how I never made her happy, how I was a horrible, narcissistic scum bag that only used her for her body. Well maybe that's true, but she still doesn't need to leave me for it. Fine, whatever, she can leave for all I care not like I need her anyway I'd be better off without her she's just dead weight, she can kill herself for all I care. Listen to me, how wrecked I am; do you see it? Do you feel it? Are you even listening to what I'm saying? “Answer me Quin! Are you even listening to a single word I'm saying?” I stared at her with a blank expression, I wondered how many shots it would take to get blackout drunk. I mean, with her gone I could do whatever. And plus, my daughter is staying with me, so that's nice. I'll be a better patent than she ever was, this house will be kept cleaner than she could keep it. “Mr. Lockette, how are we today?” No response, honestly I didn't expect much else from him, he truly is a lost cause. “Okay, Mr. Lockette, have you been taking your medication like I've requested you to?” Again, nothing. Sometimes I don't know why I even allow him to return, he hasn't given me anything in weeks, I wonder if he does this for attention. Well, wouldn't be the first one then. “Okay Quin,” at that point, I've had enough of formalities. “If you can't engage in a conversation with me like a normal human, you will have to leave, got it?” He stayed silent, of course he did, did you expect anything different? However, just when I thought it was over, I could hear the chair he was sitting in creak. Admittedly I was scared, and for good reason; I turned around to see him standing right there, no more than two feet away. “Quin! For the love of…what are you doing?” He just stared at me, but in his eyes, there was something off about them, but I couldn't tell. I'll show him, what does he know? Just because he's a doctor doesn't mean he can do or say whatever he wants to that little scumbag. Do it, but I can't, no one will know, I will, but no one else will, shut up, do it, get out of my head! “Daddy?” I turn around to see her walking into my room, her little school uniform fits perfectly, her hair is braided, a friend probably did that. She holds a paper in her hand and she seems happy, probably got a good grade. “I got a B+ on my math test today! The teacher said it was the highest and she gave me a little bag of candy, I put it on the kitchen table.” Her eyes beamed with pride, her sweet smile made me happy, she's the reason I keep working, to make her happy. “That's awesome baby. Was it difficult?” She shook her head with a smile. “Nope, it was so easy. I just didn't have time to finish it so some were blank!” I smile, she's so happy, so sweet, if only they stayed this way forever. She'll hate you one day; stop, you don't know that; of course I do; I'm you, and I'm the only one that knows the truth, she loves me, keep telling yourself that. But when she doesn't need you anymore, she'll forget about you. Same way your wife did; SHUT UP! LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! I know more than you ever will, I'm the version of you that you wish you were, the version that knows the truth, I'm not some deadbeat that can't even keep the heating bill paid! I jolt awake; I can see my breath in the air as moonlight shines through the windows. It seems the storm died down, I can't feel my toes, I look down to see the tips turning purple. I groan as I try my hardest to stand up. Look at you, pathetic. “Shut up…” I bet your daughter is crying right now, wondering when things will get better. “They will get better, you don't know anything…” I KNOW EVERYTHING! I'M YOU! AND DEEP DOWN, YOU KNOW THE TRUTH THAT NOTHING WILL CHANGE! BUT YOU'RE TOO STUBBORN TO ADMIT IT, YOU HOLD ON TO A STRING OF HOPE KNOWING GOOD AND WELL NOTHING, AND I MEAN NOTHING, WILL EVER CHANGE! “GET OUT OF MY FREAKING HEAD!” I dropped the candle onto the ground, thankfully it died a while ago due to it getting so cold. “You're just my imagination, you're not real. You don't know anything, nothing!” As always, you're wrong. Wake up Quin, you know you can't provide for her anymore. Just give up, send her off, give her a better life and just end yours. The world would be better off. “STOP IT!” My voice thunders through the house, I can feel the walls shaking. “YOU'RE NOT REAL, I CAN DO THIS, I WILL PROVIDE!” Silence. Did I win? I look up from my hands, tears racing down my face, no one else is there. Not a sound. “RENEE!” I sprint down to her room and break down the door, she's gone. “RENEE!” I began sobbing uncontrollably, I was right, I lost her, I couldn't provide for her. I told you you would fail. It's time to wake up Quin. Wake up, WAKE UP QUIN! “Quin, wake up sweetie.” I jump up off the couch, my shirt drenched in sweat, I look around. The fire is going, Renee is in the kitchen licking the brownie batter off the spoon, her clothes are brand new and her hair is nice and clean. “Quin, are you okay?” I look behind me to see my wife Kathryn, standing behind me looking very worried. I try to catch my breath so I can explain everything. But before I could tell her, she put her hand on my shoulder. “It's okay, you can tell the doctor about the dreams you've been having tomorrow.”