Twice in January, football players shocked us.

In a January 9 NFL playoff game with the Green Bay Packers, Minnesota's Randy Moss pantomimed mooning the crowd at Lambeau Field after a touchdown, no doubt endearing him to Packer fans everywhere. Perhaps Moss's childish behavior shouldn't have shocked us. Since coming to the NFL in 1998, he has embraced his role as enfant terrible, and has demonstrated that raw physical talent need not have any connection to wisdom or maturity.

Moss is far from contrite. When asked if he was upset about the latest fine, Moss scoffed, "Ain't nothing but 10 grand. What's 10 grand to me?" And if we play by his rules, he's right, of course. If we just talk money, Moss's point is well taken. But does Randy Moss really want to be known as a childish clown, one whose off-field antics cloud and smear his great football talent?

But January had another surprise. Less than one week later, on January 14, another football player seemed to act irrationally. Quarterback Matt Leinart, a junior at the University of Southern California and the likely first pick in the 2005 NFL draft if he declared himself eligible, shocked the football world by stating that he would return for his senior season.

Web sites, chat rooms and message boards were jammed, most with cynical "analysts" and incredulous fans who kept reminding us that Leinart had turned down millions of dollars to be -- of all things -- a college student. Not surprisingly, Trojan fans were happy, but opinion outside of the Southern California community was decidedly against his decision. How could he turn down all that money?

Some of his critics try to get beyond the purely monetary arguments with attempts at logic: "He's already won the Heisman Trophy and a national championship, what else is there to win?" But this argument is just as superficial and material as that touted by the mercenaries, leaving Leinart a modern-day Alexander, "crying that there are no more worlds to conquer." But Matt Leinart apparently is not Randy Moss.

It's ironic, of course, that someone from Los Angeles -- the city that gave us Fear Factor, proving that we have spawned many folks who will do and eat anything for money -- would have the moral maturity to put anything ahead of wealth. How did this self-confessed "surfer dude turned quarterback" buck the system?

Without claiming any inside information on Leinart's decision-making process, the philosopher in me suggests that he used something called wisdom. It may shock those people ready to write off collegians (especially football players) as incapable of seeing the big picture, but if we take Leinart's own words seriously, it sounds like he has a solid (and even Aristotelian) take on happiness as the proper criterion of human behavior.

In his press conference, Leinart said that "college football and this whole atmosphere here and being with my friends and my teammates... are ultimately more satisfying and will make me happier than any amount of money could make someone happy." This seems to me that Leinart is not making the critical mistake of simply equating happiness with pleasure, and has correctly identified happiness with a deeper understanding of the human life. Aristotle did not object to wealth or pleasure -- if sought for the right goal and in moderation -- but only "happiness" (eudaimonia) could be sought for its own sake, and as such, suitable for the ultimate goal in life.

Maybe Leinart was thinking of Peyton Manning and Ryan Leaf, the top two picks in the 1998 NFL Draft, who had such drastically different destinies.

But whatever his exact thoughts, Leinart obviously learned that wealth doesn't buy wisdom, and has gone to great pains to "put his money where his mouth is."

That's one Trojan who would have impressed Aristotle.

Michael McKenzie is an associate professor of philosophy and religion at Keuka College.