Commentary | Charges reveal the two lives of Vick

Apparently the word "defendant" was more tolerable to Michael Vick than the words, "Gee, Mike, you've really changed." Vick was so concerned with staying true to his roots that no amount of paternalistic lecturing from Atlanta Falcons owner Arthur Blank could convince him to dump his old associations.

As a result, there were apparently two Michael Vicks. One was a polished, posterized NFL star. But according to a federal indictment, there was also the low-life, sadistic kingpin of the Bad Newz Kennels known to childhood pals as "Ookie."

There is the suggestion that Vick has landed in all this trouble, indicted on federal charges for running a lurid dogfight operation, because he was trying to, as they say, "keep it real." The suggestion here is that when you get to play a game for a living and call it work, and stand to earn more than $100 million, you are no longer in the realm of "real." You have officially entered the realm of the blessedly "surreal." Vick obviously questioned which realm he really belonged in. Now, a U.S. District Court may decide his realm for him.

The Vick case poses an interesting question. What's escapable? One of the more troubling aspects of Vick's indictment is that it suggests that real change wasn't possible for him, that he never really got away from the place he grew up, that he was doomed by his lousy, violent childhood in the projects of Newport News, Va., to such flawed judgment.

A full-fledged canine horror chamber was found during police raids April 25 and 26 on his 15-acre property in Surry County, Va. Vick maintains he was not aware that dogs were fought to death, tortured, and executed on his property.

Then Vick added an interesting statement: "It's unfortunate I have to take the heat behind it. ... It's a call for me to really tighten down on who I'm trying to take care of. When it all boils down, people will try to take advantage of you and leave you out to dry. Lesson learned for me."

For the sake of argument, let's accept Vick's excuse. Let's set aside the three witnesses cited in the indictment who allege that Vick was on the property, gambled on the dogfights, and ordered dogs executed, including one that was doused with water and electrocuted.

At the very least, Vick is guilty of leading a double life. He had one foot in the corporate boardrooms and one foot in the bad old circles from Newport News, where he grew up amid gunplay. By his own admission, he has taken care of all the wrong people, for fear of being labeled a phony who forgot where he came from.

But if you want a phony, how about a starting NFL quarterback and a huge commercial concern with his own brand-name shoes who tries to act like he's still one of the fellas? Who by day comes on like a business sophisticate who endorses Nike, and who by night bankrolls dogfights. What a silly, pathetic brand of fraud, to pretend to be someone lesser, instead of someone better.

One suggestion being floated is that the Falcons and the NFL press Vick to take a leave of absence while he deals with his indictment. It's not a bad idea. A leave would give him time to sort out something else, too:

The question of who he really is.