Doyel: It's not that I don't believe Andrew Luck — it's that I can't

INDIANAPOLIS – Andrew Luck flew 4,152 miles to the Netherlands to have physical therapy on his shoulder. That’s what he said Friday. That’s what he wants you to believe.

Do you believe?

Just rehab, he said. Nothing crazy, no injections. Nothing out of the ordinary. That’s what he said.

“We just rehabbed at a clinic in the Netherlands,” he said Friday, a quote I’m including here because it’s important that, if you believe anybody in the story, you believe me.

“Nothing crazy," he said. "No injections. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

As for me, it’s not that I don’t believe what Andrew Luck said on Friday. It’s more like this: I can’t believe what he said. Literally speaking, my brain isn’t allowing me to go down the path Luck tried to take it. In an era where U.S. professional athletes struggling to recover from injury routinely head to Europe for cutting-edge techniques that are not FDA approved, Andrew Luck wants me to believe he went all the way to the Netherlands for physical therapy. 

And listen: My skepticism is not Luck’s fault. No, this is on me. Stupid brain of mine, it just won’t go there. It goes here:

Former NBA star Kobe Bryant went to Europe to have a blood-spinning injection into his knee. So did former MLB star Alex Rodriguez. Former NFL star Terrell Owens went to Korea for stem-cell work on his knee. Peyton Manning (heard of him?) went to Europe to have stem-cell treatment on his neck.

Andrew Luck went to the Netherlands for physical therapy. That’s what he says.

Sorry, am I repeating myself? Keep thinking that at some point, this stupid brain of mine — and the fault is all mine, not Luck’s — will accept what Luck spent 17 minutes saying on Friday, though in his first public comments in months, Luck was never clear about what that physical therapy entailed. He never tried to be clear, and in fact was downplaying it from the beginning,

“Yeah,” he said with literally his first word to the media. “So November 2nd, pretty soon after that I went over to the Netherlands and started doing rehab with the trainer that I’ve worked with in the past and I trust very much. There’s really not much more to it than that.”

Two sentences into his explanation of six-plus weeks of rehab in Europe, Luck was finished.

There’s really not much more to it than that.

But there was, of course. At one point, because the idea of going more than 4,000 miles for physical therapy sounded so fantastic, a reporter asked Luck if he could have received the same treatment in the United States. No, Luck said, referencing “the therapist” and “his resources” and “other help” and “some of the people involved.”

Medically, the reporter clarified.

“Define medically,” Luck said.

Oh boy. I’d settle for Luck defining the “resources” that were available in the Netherlands, a country whose population of 17 million is less than that of four different U.S. states, and barely 5 percent of the total U.S. population, a country whose medical procedures aren't regulated by the FDA. Apparently the Netherlands has something in physical therapy that America doesn’t have. I’m trying to understand that. Here’s what Luck said when asked about his choice to go there for treatment — define treatment — on his shoulder.

“The resources that he had over there that were not available here,” Luck said of his mysterious physical therapist, whom he wouldn’t name when asked. “A lot of it was some people and some other things.”

Define some other things.

Oh, sorry. Luck isn’t here with us. It’s just you and me. He spoke for 17 minutes, and now it’s up to us to react. But before we react, know this:

Luck has screwed this up from the start.

Used to be, we blamed the Colts for everything wrong with Andrew Luck. The GM screwed up. The coaches screwed up. The owner said something screwed-up. That always seemed fair to me, blaming the Colts, because they’re the Colts and they do screw things up. But now, given hindsight and all that, let’s be fair to the whole story and start here:

It was Andrew Luck, not the Colts, who chose the surgeon for his shoulder injury — and he didn’t choose Dr. James Andrews, the surgeon to the stars for a reason, that reason being: He’s exceptional. The best pitchers and quarterbacks go to Andrews, and he fixes them, sometimes making them better than ever. When Drew Brees needed shoulder surgery at age 26 in 2006, a decade before Luck would have it at age 27, Brees went to Andrews. Before the surgery, Brees had one Pro Bowl in four seasons as a starter and a career quarterback rating of 84.9.

Since surgery, Brees has been to the Pro Bowl 10 times in 12 seasons with a quarterback rating of 99.6.

Luck chose a different doctor. The former Stanford star had a surgeon from Stanford perform the surgery. How did that decision work out?

Only after Luck decided he wasn’t pleased with his post-surgery recovery did he listen to Brees and start working with Brees’ physical therapist, Kevin Wilk, who has worked for years alongside — no, really — Dr. James Andrews in Birmingham, Ala. Luck made regular trips to Birmingham to get rehab work with Wilk. Seems reasonable that Wilk is the mysterious physical therapist about whom Luck said on Friday: “I’ve worked with in the past and I trust very much.” But we don’t know, because Luck wouldn’t name his therapist.

But if it is Wilk, I’m finding it strange that this work could only be done in the Netherlands. Because Wilk’s resume is available online and not once in the exhaustive, 121-page resume does it link Wilk to the Netherlands.

Not once.

But again, the confusion is mine. It’s not that Luck wasn’t clear on Friday. For example, this happened when he was asked if he has ever worried about his ability to return to the NFL.

“I’ve never entertained the thoughts,” he said, and then volunteered just the opposite. “I assume what you’re saying is career-ending. Yeah sure, it’s crossed my mind. But I don’t think that at all. At all.”

Define “never entertained the thoughts.”

Define “yeah sure, it’s crossed my mind.”

Meanwhile, 11½ months after what is often a seven-month recovery, Luck says he still has “a ways to go” before he declares himself fixed. He says he still has pain in the shoulder, says he still isn’t ready to throw a football, and won’t commit to being able to throw a football one month from now. He says he thinks he’ll be back for organized team activities in April, but that’s the verb he used: think. Also: plan.

Andrew Luck spoke for 17 minutes on Friday, and all I heard was a bunch of stuff I can’t believe, combined with the same false confidence he had in July when he said: “I truly feel in my mind, in my heart, I know I’m going to be better. I really, really know I’m going to be better.” Oh, and I heard plenty of wiggle room — in case his recovery has another setback.

Define an Andrew Luck setback?

Oh, I can do that:

Friday.

Find IndyStar columnist Gregg Doyel on Twitter: @GreggDoyelStar or at facebook.com/gregg.doyel.

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