Mark down July 19, 2004, as the day that time finally caught up with the Tennessee Titans.

Ever since they arrived from Houston, time has been on this team's side. They were young. Losing in the Super Bowl didn't sting nearly as much as it might have for an aging outfit; the Titans' core was youthful enough for more runs at the Big Game.

They were smart. They avoided the salary-cap crunches that temporarily devastated teams like the Cowboys and '49ers. They never were in the embarrassing position of paying gazillions of guaranteed dollars to long-departed players. By restructuring deals here and making judicious cuts there, general manager Floyd Reese always seemed to work a sorcery over the numbers that would have drawn envious whistles from Enron accountants. We thought he could cheat The Turk forever.

This week, The Turk—a traditional title players give to the person who comes to tell them they've been cut—at last cornered Reese, coach Jeff Fisher and Eddie George. Literally and figuratively, there was no room left in Titantown for E.G. to run.

All through the spring, George and the organization were at a ram-headed impasse over salary. The Titans told Eddie they could not afford to keep their most recognizable player unless he agreed to play for a slimmed-down $1.5 million this year. George's side expected the Titans to slide their offer northward. Instead, the team wouldn't budge.

So on Monday, George informed the media that he had rejected the Titans' final offer and wanted to be released immediately. As of the Scene's press time, it appeared the marriage was over. Even if the team suddenly sweetened their offer, George said he wasn't inclined to accept.

At first, the reaction around Nashville seemed to meld disbelief and sadness, with a tinge of anger toward the organization. Fans wondered how it could come to this. Why were Bud and Floyd & Co. so hardnosed? What about loyalty?

From his public statements, those also seemed to be George's reactions. He has a point. During his eight years, he's been the consummate team player. He was always willing to renegotiate to help the organization. Now they won't even negotiate with him?

He never missed a start. Not even the indomitable Steve McNair can claim that. He easily could have sat out for weeks and recuperated his injured toe. Jevon Kearse seemed to rest every time he tore a fingernail. Instead, George played hurt, even though it hindered his performance and, in truth, his market value. Doesn't all that count for something?

Well, not really.

It's strictly a numbers game, baby. And if you're looking for a scapegoat, the best candidates would be Pete Rozelle—God rest his commie soul—and Commissioner Paul Tagliabue.

Next to the Trotskyite Workers Party, the NFL is the most thoroughly socialist institution in America (not to mention the most brilliantly successful pro sports operation in history). I can't believe free marketers aren't paying more attention to this. Where's Joe McCarthy when you need him?

Thanks to the Levellers of this league, there are no Montreal Expos or Pittsburgh Pirates in the NFL, no franchises just this side of hopeless. Even the Cincinnati Bungles expect to be a playoff team this winter. The Carolina Panthers reached the Super Bowl just a couple of years after winning only one lonesome game. Like Jesus (another guy of whom Tailgunner Joe would have been deeply suspicious) used to say, "The first shall be last, and the last shall be first."

The salary cap, of course, is one of the pillars undergirding the league's socialist structure. And that means teams must sacrifice loyalty to players (to the extent that any ever existed) for the sake of remaining competitive. Paying a premium to reward an aging star—as the Cowboys did with Emmitt Smith and Troy Aikman—is a luxury that no Super Bowl aspirant can afford these days.

That's why the Titans made the right, disciplined move in refusing to offer Eddie more than $1.5 million—and why Eddie made the wrong, prideful move in failing to embrace economic reality.

To be sure, both sides will probably suffer this year. The Titans are gambling that Chris Brown and Robert Holcombe can shoulder most of George's load. Brown showed explosiveness last season that Eddie seems to have lost. But he has been injury-prone since his college days and has never proven, like George, that he can absorb the punishment of 20 carries per game for a full NFL season.

Don't be surprised if, as insurance, the Titans pick up a proven feature running back, such as free agents Antowain Smith of New England or Corey Dillon of Cincinnati. And even if they can run the ball almost as effectively as during George's best seasons, they'll still miss his leadership.

George probably risks even more than the Titans. Around the league are several prospects for his services—Tampa Bay, Dallas, Minnesota, Philadelphia—that need a premier rusher. Then there's Oakland, a perennial rejuvenator of castoffs and retreads.

Whether any of those teams would pay George significantly more than the Titans offered remains to be seen. In the end, for roughly the same money, he may trade the certainty of 15-20 carries per game with a winner for an uncertain future with an unfamiliar outfit.

In the long run, the Titans took the wiser if more immediately painful course by letting George depart and holding onto their finite cap money.

Faced with the dilemma of affording either George or their excellent crop of draft choices, the organization is siding with promising youth over proven experience. They've learned from what happened to the Cowboys and Jaguars, who kept their core of stars well beyond their ability to afford both them and a first-rate supporting cast.

You can't succeed in the NFL anymore without turning over a fair chunk of your roster each year, and sometimes that means players with value. The Titans calculated EG's value at $1.5 million—and, realistically, they're probably closer to the market than Eddie and his agent.

Though they've never sacrificed a player of George's stature to the salary cap, it's not like the Titans haven't been down this road. Especially for a franchise with such a long record of draft-day savvy, rebuilding is easier than for less astute (OK, moronic) pickers like the Redskins. Randall Godfrey's departure opened a spot for Keith Bulluck. The play of Lance Schulters, Tank Williams and Andre Dyson made Titan fans forget that Blaine Bishop and Marcus Robertson once seemed irreplaceable.

Besides, the Titans seem to have been learning that they can prosper without the smashmouth, 35-rushes-per-game attack that Fisher once favored and Eddie once provided. As molded by Mike Heimerdinger, the Titans' offense has evolved into an approach that revolves around the versatility of Steve McNair instead of the stop-me-if-you-can predictability of first-and-Eddie.

Did the team do right by George? Well, they did much better than they did by Godfrey, who accepted a pay cut to stay with the team and then was unceremoniously cut anyhow. That move rankled a number of players, who haven't forgotten. The front office apparently remembered, too, and didn't repeat the mistake; they were upfront with their offer to George and stuck to it.

The more relevant question is whether the Titans did right by their future, and they did. Painful as Eddie's last run may be, it's the price we pay for living in the Leninist pro football world we've come to love.