Even though he's putting up the best numbers of his 10-year career, Tiki Barber announced he'll retire at the end of the 2006 season. David Bergman/SI

By George Dohrmann

When Tiki Barber announced in October that he would retire at the end of this season, ESPN's Michael Irvin said he "quit" on his team, pundit Gary Myers accused him of creating a "season-long distraction" and countless people questioned why he would walk away when he seemingly had several productive seasons left in him.

I applauded.

During a year when several former NFL players have criticized the health-care coverage (or lack thereof) provided by the league, Barber shined a light on the subject by announcing he'd rather walk away now then not be able to walk later.

"People never pay attention, but I do. I see the long-term effect of injuries," Barber said. "I'm very cognizant of the fact that this game knocks you out and no one cares."

During the outbreak of press attention following his surprise announcement, Barber talked about former players too crippled to play with their kids. He talked about seeing his predecessor as the Giants' featured back, Rodney Hampton, break down overnight. He talked about wanting to create a legacy beyond his football career.

These were true and insightful statements, yet Barber found himself on the defensive. Player after player offered a counterpoint, saying they loved the game too much to walk away before their time was up. At one point, Barber felt compelled to announce that he did indeed "love football."

It's a sad statement about sports that a player wanting to retire before he is crippled gets criticized. It's even sadder to suggest that if an athlete doesn't play until he can't play, he doesn't love the game.

Barber is a smart guy. He has worked hard to define himself as something more than an athlete; he most recently did some reporting for Fox News. He knows that no matter how much he loves football, football is not going to love him back. Football is a machine that uses and spits out player after player. You either have to be lucky or smart to get out before it shreds you, and Barber was not going to let luck dictate his long-term health.

For that decision alone, Barber would be my pick for Sportsman of the Year. But I'd add this achievement to his case: Too often, athletes forget that they will be remembered for what they did last. Barry Sanders didn't give anyone the chance to see him robbed of his quickness; we only know him as the most dynamic back of his era. Last we saw Jerome Bettis he was plowing to a Super Bowl victory, his legacy as "The Bus" intact. But what about Emmitt Smith, who rushed for more yards than Bettis and Sanders? "I remember him as a guy picking up yards in Arizona," Barber said.

Barber won't be remembered that way. He'll be remembered as a Giant in the prime of his career. And he'll be relevant long after he's done playing a game.