I'm sure RG3 appreciates all this concern for his future.
But where was it when he came back against Philly?
Or when he hobbled his way to a win over Dallas?
Or when Griffin came out and threw a couple touchdowns last Sunday? Up 14-nothing, it looked like the Redskins' second playoff win of the century.
I don't remember anyone wanting to take him out him then.
Look, I make a living second-guessing.
But let us second-guessers -- in the press box, the locker room, the stands and all you watching on TV -- acknowledge our own hypocrisy here.
These are football players.
Deified for playing hurt.
Vilified for not.
Quarterbacks? They're a cult of the wounded.
Its iconography includes Romo's rib.
Namath's knees.
Favre's ankle.
On Oct. 25, 2010, it was learned that Brett Favre had fractures in his ankle and his heel. He played the next Sunday. And the Sunday after that. And so on. Until his streak stood 321 consecutive starts, including the playoffs.
It's the greatest record in sports.
But underneath that triumph of spirit, put a scalpel to the streak, probe its anatomy, its guts. You might not like what you find.
But back to RG3. His orthopedist was a nervous wreck. Well, if it was really that bad, he should've parted with protocol, stepped in boxing style and declared the kid out by TKO.
But he didn't. And it wasn't.
Griffin wasn't concussed. Actually, he wasn't even hit.
You can't parse science from sentiment here. Everybody was rooting the same way.
For Robert Griffin III, and a streak of his own.
Follow Mark Kriegel on Twitter @MarkKriegel.