Since signing with the Allen Wranglers, Terrell Owens hasn't exactly been excited to talk to reporters. Back in his Philadelphia days, in the prime of his career, he used to hold press conferences all the time, sometimes in his own driveway. He couldn't wait to be on camera. He would tell reporters what questions to ask. He never shied away from a microphone: not in a locker room, not in a studio, and certainly not on his own reality show.

But now that he's been relegated to the lowest rung of professional football, with no team in the NFL even interested in watching him work out, Owens hasn't been so loquacious. He made an appearance on Dr. Phil with three of the four mothers of his kids to explain why he hasn't been paying child support (he's broke), and why he hasn't even seen some of his children (it's complicated). And he's done a few brief radio interviews. But he hasn't wanted to talk much about playing in the Indoor Football League. He hasn't wanted to talk about his financial troubles, or his personal life, or what it's like to fall so far so fast. He's pushed back interviews. He's skipped press conferences. He's missed scheduled appearances.

But now, on an indoor soccer field in the suburbs of Dallas, on a Thursday afternoon after practice, he's unloading. At first, he's positive. He says he really isn't the same person he was a few years ago.

"This has definitely been a humbling situation for me," he says. "For a lot of reasons, personally and professional. I'm just taking everything in stride."

Of course, this is before the Wranglers waived him. Before he threatened to sue. Before he fired his agent. This is before it all ended like we knew it would. Because how could a T.O. story end any other way? There can be no redemption, no change in this narrative. It's gone on too long. We know it too well.

Still, he's trying. He says he's grateful to Wranglers owner Jon Frankel and general manager Drew Pearson for the chance to prove he's still able to play.

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