National Football League

Don't feel bad for Plaxico

Published Aug. 20, 2009 9:08 p.m. ET

Alex Marvez

I am not devoid of sympathy after hearing Plaxico Burress received a two-year prison sentence Thursday on weapons charges.

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I feel for his family. They will now be without a husband, father and breadwinner for at least 20 months until Burress becomes eligible for parole.

I commiserate with NFL fans who wanted the talented wide receiver on their team.

And it's a shame that one of the greatest moments in New York Giants history — Burress' game-winning touchdown catch in Super Bowl XLII — will now be forever tainted by his guilty plea to attempted criminal possession of a weapon.

But there is one person I don't feel sorry for: Burress himself.

To go old-school and steal a phrase from the iconic 1970s TV show Baretta, "Don't do the crime if you can't do the time." In this case, don't take an unregistered .40-caliber Glock into a city that has some of the nation's toughest gun laws without being prepared to face the consequences should something go awry.

Burress apologists and supporters will point to the fact that the only person hurt when the weapon accidentally misfired inside a Manhattan night club last November was Burress. Some believe Burress was unfairly singled out by prosecutors because of his celebrity status. It also does seem screwy that Burress will serve more time behind bars than fellow NFL misfits Michael Vick and Donte' Stallworth combined, considering their crimes were much worse. Vick spent 19 months in the big house for dog-fighting. Stallworth — who pleaded guilty to manslaughter DUI after killing a pedestrian — served 24 days before being released to home confinement.

Yet any pity I feel for Burress is tempered by how he put himself in this position.

For those needing a refresher, Burress had allowed his gun registration in the state of Florida to expire in May 2008 — six months before the nightclub incident occurred. That was ample time to get his paperwork for New York/New Jersey registration in order.

After shooting himself in the leg, Burress lied to hospital officials by admitting himself under a false name (Harris Smith). The Glock was nowhere to be found. Giants linebacker Antonio Pierce was driving it back to Burress' New Jersey home.

Skeevy, skeevy, skeevy.

Burress presented his side of the story to a grand jury last month hoping to have two felony charges dismissed or reduced. He was indicted anyway.

If found guilty, Burress faced a mandatory minimum prison sentence of 3½ years. It never came to that. Burress accepted a lesser charge Thursday knowing he was out of options.