Sad part of Walter Jones saga is you can't rely on Mr. Reliable

The decision was as predictable as Walter Jones' dominance used to be. There was inevitability attached to this moment, an expectant belief that it would happen, a feeling that rivaled the former trust in Jones' consistent excellence.

On Wednesday, the Seahawks were forced to shut down their great left tackle, same as he once dismissed all pass rushers.

No. 71 is done. For this season. For his career? Maybe. Quite possibly, even.

It's a conclusion that became clear the past few weeks, yet it still pierces your spirit. The excellence of Walter Jones has always rested in his dependability.

"It is too early for a career eulogy, but the excellence that is Walter is probably unparalleled at that position in the history of the game," Seahawks coach Jim Mora said while relaying the unfortunate news. "This guy has done everything that you can do to be a great player, year in and year out."

Jones went 10 consecutive seasons without missing a game because of injury. He treated even the best defensive ends as if they were little boys swinging their arms errantly at him. He earned nine Pro Bowl berths, six All-Pro selections, became the best player at his position and perhaps the entire NFL, and if this is starting to read like his football obit, well, it's hard not to consider the end right now because Wednesday exposed a sad reality.

You can't rely on Mr. Reliable anymore.

You can hope Big Walt will return; you can't expect. That goes for both the public and the Seahawks.

Eleven months have passed, and Jones has yet to recover from a knee injury that left him straining to stay in front of Dallas Cowboys linebacker DeMarcus Ware last Thanksgiving. Ware had two sacks against Jones in that game, leaving Big Walt's ego bruised even though he was playing with a serious injury. Two weeks later, Jones underwent microfracture surgery on his left knee.

The Seahawks hoped he would be ready for this season. In hindsight, they should have reduced the expectations of him playing to "We'll see" declarations. But by all indications, Jones' rehabilitation went well. He went into training camp prepared to build gradually toward being healthy for the season opener.

It didn't happen. He needed another surgery only three practices into his comeback. About a month after that operation, Jones practiced with the team for two weeks, but he had to stop because of the pain. His aches are exacerbated by the fact that he has a kidney condition that prevents him from taking anti-inflammatory or powerful pain medications.

And now, with the season ticking away, with the Seahawks injured in other key areas and in need of Jones' roster spot, the team made the tough decision to place him on injured reserve and end a comeback that never really began.

"I knew it was going to be a long process," Jones said of his injury. "It's still a process."

True to his nature, Jones isn't thinking about retirement. He wants to play. He's 35, and microfracture surgeries aren't kind to athletes that old, but he's determined to return to the field. He's determined to erase the memory of Ware taking advantage of him. He's determined to be dependable again.

Let's hope Jones accomplishes those goals. He's too good of a guy. He's Big Walt with the Alabama twang, with a sense of humor that sneaks up on you and with a level of intelligence for the game and life that belies his soft-spoken demeanor.

Let's hope he comes back. Can't expect it, though.

That's the tough part about all of this. We can't expect Walter Jones to be Walter Jones anymore? We have to move on, plan for a Seahawks team without him and leave only a slightly cracked door for a surprise comeback? What bizarre sports world are we living in now?

"I've always been there," Jones said. "I've always been that guy. When it's time to play football, I've always been on that field."

Always. Until now.

The beauty and cruelty of sports is that you never conquer the games. They always find a way to win. The game is the master, and even the greatest athletes are forever the understudies. No one has played left tackle as gracefully, as effortlessly, as Jones. Yet here he is, hanging on, hoping his body cooperates, needing the game more than the game needs him.

It's why we love sports. The game is always the king.

It's why we hate sports. The greats always lose their might at the end.

"It's a blessing," Jones said of playing football. "You can sit down and mope about it and be mad about it. Or ... "

Then Jones considered his words carefully and said, "I've done it the right way."

You can only hope he gets to do it the right way one more time.

jbrewer@seattletimes.com,

Twitter: @Jerry_Brewer