Jay Mariotti FanHouse http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com Jay Mariotti FanHouse http://www.blogsmithmedia.com/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/media/feedlogo.gif Jay Mariotti FanHouse http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com en-us Copyright 2009 Weblogs, Inc. The contents of this feed are available for non-commercial use only. Blogsmith http://www.blogsmith.com/Wildest Super Bowl Ever Lathered in Steeler Cool http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/02/02/wildest-super-bowl-ever/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/02/02/wildest-super-bowl-ever/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/02/02/wildest-super-bowl-ever/#commentsFiled under: ,


TAMPA, Fla. -- We don't watch Super Bowls for the chip dip, as Bruce Springsteen wisecracked during his 12-minute party. We crave the emotional bull rush, a crescendo finish, the natural high that Michael Phelps finds in a marijuana pipe. The big game used to bore like a 4 a.m. infomercial, but Sunday, it delivered again, like last year, hijacking our senses with head-banging, back-and-forth drama that even might have thrilled The Boss, the rocker who hates football.

Was it the greatest Super Bowl ever? I'll call it the most stirring climax of the 43, better than Eli Manning and David Tyree's helmet, a rousing escape from the bleak national condition. If this masterpiece theater between the Steelers and Cardinals had ended with what seemed the perfect storyline -- Kurt Warner scratching back, in a metaphor for his life, and finding Larry Fitzgerald slashing down the Pittsburgh gut on a 64-yard scoring dash as Larry Sr. refrained from cheering in the press box -- who knew that the ultimate thrust of Super Bowl oneupsmanship was forthcoming in the final two minutes?

"I actually was thinking if they were going to score, that's how you want them to score -- extremely quick, so we'd have time to execute a two-minute drive,'' said Mike Tomlin, the 36-year-old coach with the cool-cat facial hair and fiftysomething wisdom. "I was probably over it by the time (Fitzgerald) got in the end zone because we've been in those situations so many times. We're never pretty. But we never blink, either.


"We embrace those moments. We're built for those moments.''

And, in the end, they are defined by those moments.

This is no rip on the Cardinals, who belied their dubious history and goofy bird-beak logo by shaking off killer penalties and coming back strong against the acclaimed Blitzburgh defense. But there's a reason the Steelers are the Steelers, the best-run organization in American sports. When presented with their assignment -- 2:37 left, down 23-20, 78 yards to victory -- did anyone dare doubt them? I predicted on this site on Sunday that they would win their sixth Super Bowl title, which came a year after writing that the New England Patriots had no chance of (gulp) losing. That said, I was not jittery in the least. The huge patches of Steelers fandom inside Heinz Field South, a group that outnumbered Arizona fans by 10 to 1, showed no signs of anxiety or upchucking, either. The only issue was how Ben Roethlisberger, who blamed nerves for his poor outing in the Steelers' championship victory over Seattle three years ago, would respond with his big-game reputation hanging in the pleasant Florida air.

Big Ben? Or Big Bust? Hadn't he said his "legs were rubbery'' in his last Super Bowl, that he was too distracted by tension to develop a rhythm? And that was with a lead. What now, with the Steelers trailing and depending on him to earn his $102 million contract and thwart the budding Arizona miracle?

"I wasn't nervous at all. I didn't have any jitters,'' reported Roethlisberger, who was head-butting teammates throughout the night. ``I was only nervous when the planes flew over before the game. I felt great.''

If he's never going to be confused with history's elite quarterbacks, no one can question Roethlisberger's bullishness and grit. Now, we'll stop doubting his poise and wherewithal as well. He stepped into the huddle, knowing that tens of millions were watching and waiting to judge him by by this moment, and uttered the words that Pittsburgh won't soon forget. "It's now or never guys,'' he told his offensive teammates. "You'll be remembered forever if you do this. All the film study, all the hard work, all the stuff that people talked bad about us -- it will be for nothing. We have to go out and do this.''

The job took two minutes and two seconds. With Roethlisberger scrambling, pump-faking and flipping darts, moving quite adroitly for a 250-pounder, he masterfully led the drive and wisely used the big-play skills of Santonio Holmes. You might remember what I wrote about Holmes on Friday, that he projected as the first former drug dealer to morph into a Super Bowl hero. If he was trying to help children by admitting to his past mistakes, he certainly developed a new cult following with his breakout performance, outdueling Fitzgerald with a nine-catch, 131-yard piece of artwork. He saved his best stuff for the final drive. With Ben clearly enjoying himself and playing pitch-and-catch out of the shotgun formation, he found Holmes for a critical 40-yard play to the Arizona 6.

There was plenty of time, 48 ticks, for a shot or two at the end zone and the victory. So Roethlisberger and offensive coordinator Bruce Arians again sought Holmes, this time with high jeopardy shadowing high reward. Ben risked so much -- his legacy, his team's first ring for the other hand -- when he drilled a pass in traffic as Holmes raced to the back of the end zone. He had to throw it past cornerback Ralph Brown. He had to deposit it in a place where safety Aaron Francisco couldn't intercept it. But he did just that, and not only did Holmes rise up to snag the football, he delicately placed his feet together and touched his toes against the paint like an expert ballerina. Cardinals coach Ken Whisenhunt, who once coached all of these players as the Steelers' offensive coordinator, eagerly awaited the challenge. He lost it -- and the game.

"I just feel empty, like it was all for nothing,'' said Fitzgerald, who rallied his team with his explosiveness, only to be upstaged. "It's going to be hard to pick up the pieces. It hurts.''

This was Joe Montana to Dwight Clark. This was Son of the Immaculate Reception. In fact, this was bigger because it won the world championship, not merely a conference title or playoff game. And what was the play called, for posterity? "Drop back, scramble right, scramble left, find someone open,'' joked Roethlisberger, who joins Tom Brady as the youngest quarterbacks to win two Super Bowls. "I saw 'Tone' in the corner and decided to throw it high, because either he was going to catch it or no one was going to catch. Luckily, he made a heck of a play.''

Lucky, it wasn't. Holmes has enormous talent and, with Tomlin's guidance, should be on his way to a productive career. What was hypocritical about his Just Say No, anti-drug-dealing speech the other day is that he got caught in a marijuana bust by Pittsburgh police in October. Maybe this is the beginning of a mature, new life for the pride of Belle Glade, Fla., the crime-and-poverty town where he hustled on a street corner for a year as a teenager.

"My feet never left the ground,'' Holmes said of his toe-tapping exhibition. "All I did was extend my arms and use my toes as an extra extension to catch up to the ball. Before the drive, I told Ben, 'I want the ball in my hands no matter what, no matter where it is.' I wanted to be the one to make the big play at the end, and I did it for my team.''

Holmes knows what the six-pack of championships means for the Steelers. "We're going down in history with one of the greatest games ever played in the Super Bowl, and we have more championships than any other team,'' he said. Correct, sir. The Steelers own six of the first 43 trophies, and much as Tomlin tried to deflect praise to the Rooney family, it's hard not to be amazed by the discipline and energy he has instilled in only two years after replacing Bill Cowher, a damned good coach himself. Tomlin is the blueprint for what NFL owners want: a young, fiery leader young enough to relate to players but smart enough to command their attention and respect.

The new guy had to learn some lessons himself. At first, he was a madman of sorts, telling his players, "I'm going to make you miserable.'' He developed a peer-pressure device called "The News'' -- as in, if you don't want to be on The News, don't get in trouble or screw up on Sundays. "Some of us went to him and said, 'Hey, coach, we've got a lot of veterans, and you don't have to make us miserable,' '' safety Ryan Clark said. "I think he learned from that.'' In the final practices in Tampa, Tomlin joked with his team each day, and the laughter that emanated from the training facility reflected how the players and head coach have grown as one.


"I'm not concerned about my personal milestones,'' said Tomlin, keeping a firm upper lip afterward. "I just want to contribute to the legacy that is the Pittsburgh Steelers. I'm very blessed to be hired by the Rooney family. They took a chance on a 34-year-old coach with not a long resume, and I understand that. They took a little criticism for that, and I took it personally. I wanted to ante up and add to their legacy, and thankfully, with the help of a great coaching staff and great players, we were able to do that tonight.''

Roethlisberger and the offense won the game, but earlier, defense typically pushed the Steelers to a 17-7 lead. The best Super Bowl finish was preceded by the best play to end a Super Bowl first half: James Harrison's 100-yard interception return for a touchdown. He stepped in front of a Warner slant pass and rumbled down the sideline like, well, the truck he was going to drive in Akron, Ohio, after one of the three times he was cut by the Steelers earlier this decade. He was helped by precise blocks by defensive teammates and tumbled into the end zone as Fitzgerald and Steve Breaston tried to pry the ball loose. He lay in the paint for a long time while officials reviewed the play. If Harrison had been ruled down at the Arizona 1, the Steelers wouldn't have gotten any points because time had expired. But the replay people ruled properly.

This is the same James Harrison who won the NFL's Defensive Player of the Year award, the classic Dick LeBeau project who has become the prototype linebacker who can rush the passer and drop back in coverage. He was moping all week about not dropping back enough, so you can say he took advantage of an opportunity. Not only was it the longest scoring play in Super Bowl history, it was the most electrifying and game-changing.

"Those last couple of yards were harder than anything I've done in my life,'' said Harrison, one of 14 children. "All I was thinking about when I was running was helping my team win and scoring six.''

And why did he lay there for so long? "I kinked up my neck a little bit,'' he said, "and air was a problem, too.''

It was for all of us. Dull as the week was, the game was spectacular. "Some said we couldn't top last year's Super Bowl, but the Steelers and Cardinals did that tonight,'' said Roger Goodell, the NFL commissioner. In the middle of the celebration was Dan Rooney, the man who created the Steeler mystique, the pioneer who fought to create the Rooney Rule that has helped minorities such as Tomlin win head-coaching opportunities. It's only February, but Rooney is my Sportsman of the Year. And he was quick with a reply when asked how many more trophies he can fit in one case.

"We'll make room,'' he said.

Jay Mariotti is a national columnist and commentator for FanHouse.com. He is a daily panelist on ESPN's sports-debate show, "Around The Horn," seen Monday through Friday at 5 p.m. ET. Mariotti spent 17 years as a lead sports columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and has covered every major sporting event -- national and worldwide -- on multiple occasions.

Wildest Super Bowl Ever Lathered in Steeler Cool originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Mon, 02 Feb 2009 01:47:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>arizona cardinalsArizonaCardinalsBruce SpringsteenBruceSpringsteenpittsburgh steelersPittsburghSteelerssuper bowlSuperBowlJay MariottiMon, 02 Feb 2009 01:47:00 EST Steelers Will Win, Advance Legacyhttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/the-best-franchise-in-sports-will-pop-open-six-pack/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/the-best-franchise-in-sports-will-pop-open-six-pack/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/the-best-franchise-in-sports-will-pop-open-six-pack/#commentsFiled under: ,

TAMPA, Fla. -- You know it's a different Super Bowl when hotel rooms are available, ticket scalpers are on suicide watch and -- bear with me here -- someone thinks it's a good idea to have ME??? walk the red carpet and pose for paparazzi outside an ESPN party. It's one thing to experience an economic recession in this country, quite another to swallow a complete cultural meltdown.

Yet once you're back in the real world, away from Lindsay Lohan and DJ Samantha Ronson in her pink-and black-striped fingerless gloves, a January tradition smacks you in the chops like, well, a Terrible Towel. If little else is certain in the world, the Pittsburgh Steelers have become an American constant, disregarding NFL parity and their smallish market to become the best-run franchise in professional sports. No? The Steelers are about to win their sixth Super Bowl trophy, their second in four years, and if there's another organization on the national scene that meshes the robust echoes of its past with 21st-century efficiency, then I must need a Lasik do-over. Because I'm not seeing it.

They've already won one for the thumb. What would this one be? "The six-pack," said quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, realizing that mass beer consumption is part of Steeler Nation's identity.

I'm seeing the New York Yankees throwing around insane amounts of money and trying to get back. I'm seeing the Boston Celtics approaching a full-blown renaissance. But the NFL isn't designed for the relentless success mastered by the Steelers, a mom-and-pop thread connected to a 76-year-old man who has carried on the family business with enormous, league-wide power while living in the same modest house of his youth. My guess is, the average sports fan wouldn't know him if he knocked on your door and shouted his name through a bullhorn. Once, when he was waiting to appear on a radio show with me at a Super Bowl, I mistook him for someone else.

"I'm Dan Rooney," he said matter-of-factly, not offended.

Assuredly, he's the only sports owner who walks to home games on a run-down sidewalk past a deserted gas station and through an underpass. But understated as he is personally, no one in sports hauls more clout and operates his team more effectively. Rooney has mandated continuity and stability in a revolving-door profession, employing only three coaches in 38 seasons since the 1970 merger -- Chuck Noll, Bill Cowher, Mike Tomlin -- and watching all make the Super Bowl their home. His strong push for minority opportunities led to the Rooney Rule, which has helped the NFL remain ahead of the curve in African-American coaching hires, including Tomlin. In Pittsburgh, no longer the the smoky steel town of yesteryear, the Rooney Way has cultivated a family atmosphere in the locker room and an intense oneness with a community. All of which underscores the stark contrast between Rooney and his son, Art II, and the historically bumbling ownership of the Arizona Cardinals, who kind of stumbled into this Super Bowl and will put up a nice fight Sunday night before fading away. It also explains why respect for the Steelers extends to high places.

"They've run a model franchise," NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said. "I think everyone in Pittsburgh recognizes how proud they are of the Steelers. We in the NFL recognize how fortunate we've been to have Dan Rooney's leadership."


A Steelers fan in the White House also is paying tribute. Lest you think President Obama only cheers for his hometown team, the Chicago Bears, he has ignored the unspoken rule that a U.S. president shouldn't have a Super Bowl rooting interest. That's because last year, Rooney ignored the unspoken rule that no sports owner should endorse a presidential candidate, strongly stumping for Obama and influencing the vote in western Pennsylvania. "True sports fans know that you support your team even when they are underdogs," Rooney said at the time. "Barack Obama is the underdog here, but it is with great pride that I join his team." After the AFC championship game, Rooney flew to Washington for the inauguration and presented Obama with the game ball.

This weekend, Obama returned the favor. "I wish the Cardinals the best. Kurt Warner is a great story, and he's closer to my age than anyone else on the field,'' he said. "But I am a longtime Steelers fan. Mr. Rooney was an extraordinary supporter of mine during the campaign. Coach Tomlin was a supporter. The Cardinals have been long-suffering, and they're a great Cinderella story. But other than the Bears, the Steelers are probably the team closest to my heart.''

He isn't alone. The Steelers have that kind of romantic effect on folks across the country. Part of the affection is obvious: If America is a nation of frontrunners, why wouldn't they attach themselves to Steeler Nation? But the allegiance goes much deeper than that, with fans willing to fork out money in lean economic times to travel en masse to Florida. Three years ago, who can forget the snapshot at Ford FIeld in Detroit, where black and gold dominated the stands and turned the scene into a road game for the losing Seattle Seahawks? Expect a similarly lopsided fan imbalance Sunday night, with my unofficial tally so far indicating one Cardinal fan for every six Steeler fans. You'd be hard-pressed to find a more loyal and raging love affair in sports, centered around a town that endured a tough, 50-year metamorphosis and found joy in four titles in the 1970s.

"Success has had something to do with it,'' Rooney said. "The fact that they have had difficult times in Pittsburgh and we sort of filled the void -- they could have something for their pride. And, you know, they moved. Everybody sees that when we go (around the country ), there are a billion Steeler fans out there. A number of people lost their jobs and had to move and things like that, so that has had something to do with it.

"But we have tremendous fans. A lot of it is young people, so you can see the next generation is going to be there, too. I've talked to many of them, and they look at Ben and Hines (Ward) and all these great players that we have and they relate to them.''


Tomlin, already the youngest Super Bowl coach at 36, thinks he has died and gone to heaven in most road stadiums. "Steeler Nation drives me on a day-to-day basis,'' he said. "We appreciate it. There is nothing like going into a hostile environment and seeing so many faces, rabid friendly faces, and it's a pleasure to be a part of.''

Said Ward, the blue-collar receiver: "It's a blue-collar town. They go out and work hard. Tickets are passed down, generation to generation. When you're born, you come out with a Terrible Towel in hand. When the Super Bowl is over, they can't wait until training camp. They look forward to who we're going to draft, who's going to be the next up-and-coming guy. You appreciate that. Playing there, this is my 11th year. I'm pretty sure if I'm ever hungry, I can knock on somebody's door and they'll welcome me with open arms. It's a close-knit family. It's a great family city. We're role models, and they support us so much.''

The civic mood is dependent on Sunday victories. "When we win, the city is happy, and it seems like the sun shines brighter and there's no traffic,'' defensive end Brett Keisel said. "When we lose, there's traffic, the skies are dark and everyone is mad. That is what makes the city special. This city genuinely loves and appreciates what we do.''

It's a tone established by Rooney. Before him, it was his father, Art, the beloved Steelers patriarch who endured rough seasons -- much like the maligned Cardinals owner, Bill Bidwill -- before watching an onslaught of future Hall of Famers dominate the '70s. Rooney flies with the team and regularly visits the locker room. The players love him for it.

"I think it's cool that Mr. Rooney gives out his cell phone number to players,'' safety Troy Polamalu said. "People call him `Pops.' He's so down to earth, very humble. I think that atmosphere has obviously permeated our whole team, because our team is very close like that as well.''

"They come down, shake your hand,'' cornerback Ike Taylor said of the Rooneys. "You can talk to them about anything. They have a players-first mentality, and it trickles all the way down through the coaching staff.''

And while Tomlin has created his own iron-fisted mentality since replacing Bill Cowher two years ago, he's smart enough to embrace the in-place mechanism. "One of the reasons we've had consistent excellence over a long period is because we are under the leadership of Dan and Art Rooney,'' he said. "Their vision of what Steeler football is about is very clear. I think I have my job because my vision is similar to what their vision is. I have learned more about their vision since I've been here. So, of course, I am going to play to it.''

Like in the '70s, the Steelers thrive on defense. The offense simply has to maintain, which is why Roethlisberger and running back Willie Parker take a back seat in stardom to defensive monsters such as Polamalu, James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley. The front office wants what every other team wants: hard-working, team-first players. The difference is, the Steelers seem to find them without spending excessive sums in free agency. They draft better than the rest, sign the most cost-efficient talent and don't rule anyone out; Harrison was about to drive a truck in Ohio when the Steelers called in 2004.

The end result is an elite franchise that reflects its city like no other. "It starts with the Rooney family,'' Roethlisberger said. "They find ways to always have great coaches who find ways to get great players. I think it's just wanting to play for a team, an organization and a city like Pittsburgh. It's a love affair. It's winners. It's hard-nosed and playing grind-it-out football. It doesn't matter where we play -- in the mud, in the rain, in bad weather, in snow. It's just about finding a way to win. It may not be the prettiest way, but we find a way.

"You have to know about history when you play here. You know about the past when you see the Lombardi trophies every day. It motivates you to try to accomplish something like they did in the '70s.''

No NFL franchise has won the Super Bowl six times. Teams that used to win them in bunches, the Dallas Cowboys and San Francisco 49ers, have forgotten how. The Steelers never lost the code.

Sunday night, they'll use it to crack open a cold six-pack.

Steelers Will Win, Advance Legacy originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Sat, 31 Jan 2009 19:30:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>ben roethlisbergerBenRoethlisbergerpittsburgh steelersPittsburghSteelersJay MariottiSat, 31 Jan 2009 19:30:00 EST Yo, Holmes: Drug Dealer to Super Hero? http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/yo-holmes-drug-dealer-to-super-hero/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/yo-holmes-drug-dealer-to-super-hero/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/31/yo-holmes-drug-dealer-to-super-hero/#commentsFiled under: ,

Santonio HolmesTAMPA, Fla. -- He's doing it for the kids. That's what Santonio Holmes wants us to believe, anyway. When he uses the global Super Bowl platform to disclose his first occupation in life -- selling drugs in his hometown of Belle Glade, Fla., a dismal place of crime and poverty about three hours and 10 back roads from here -- he says he's showing children how to learn from his youthful errors.

"We don't have a Wal-Mart. We don't have a Target. There are maybe two grocery stores, no movie theaters, no mall,'' he said. "There isn't really anything to do where we live, so all you're going to do is chase rabbits, go to school and play football -- or you're going to stand on a corner and sell drugs.''

He chose the dumb and dirty route for a year, following the lead of friends and family members who sold drugs in a small town that had America's second-highest rate of violent crime in 2003, not to mention the country's highest rate of AIDS infections in the mid-1980s. It wasn't until his mother recognized his dead-end trail and moved them out of the neighborhood that Holmes focused on football, a path that has propped him into a potential game-breaking role for the Pittsburgh Steelers in the grandest of games.

"I feel it's time to share things,'' he explained. "I'm on the biggest stage, everybody's going to be watching. I'm pretty sure some kids can get a feel for changing their lives and not doing those type of things and can get an opportunity to get out of the ghetto, the 'hood, to be successful."


There's a fairly big problem, however, concerning Holmes and his timing: I'm not certain he's totally removed from the drug culture, which casts suspicions on any honorable claim about teaching children well. As recently as October, Steelers coach Mike Tomlin deactivated him for a game after Pittsburgh police found several marijuana-filled cigarettes in his SUV during a traffic stop. When Holmes confessed the blunts indeed were his, he was arrested and charged with a misdemeanor. Now, only three months later, we're supposed to have amnesia when he waves the "Just Say No" banner? How can Holmes talk from one side of the mouth and toke from the other?

"It happens -- being in the wrong place at the wrong time, not being responsible, being around people that aren't responsible enough to respect what I do," he said, somehow blaming others for his own weed. "I knew what my path was like before, and I didn't want to go down that path again."

An isolated incident, he calls it. "I've never failed a drug test in my life, so I wasn't too concerned," Holmes said. "Most of (his teammates) were frustrated at the fact I didn't play, but they all understand and respect the decision Coach Tomlin made. I deserved it.''

He never has failed a drug test? What does that mean? Is that to imply he wasn't using the marijuana? And if he wasn't, why did he have the cigarettes? "I was working as hard as ever leading up to that point, and I've just continued doing that,'' he said. "Nobody has talked to me about the situation -- family members, nobody has asked me. I told them I'm a grown man, that people make mistakes but only the strong survive. I was able to overcome it."

There were a couple of arrests in 2006, too. One was for disorderly conduct, the other for domestic violence. While charges were dropped, Holmes agreed to seek anger counseling. Point is, before standing up at the Super Bowl to tell a triumphant life story, make sure your house is entirely clean. Tomlin says Holmes is still maturing at 24, which is a good way to put it.

"He is growing as a person. I see it on a daily basis,'' Tomlin said. "But there are a lot of those stories on a football team. I think a lot of times, people look at professional athletes and they view them as something they are not. But working with those guys on a day-to-day basis, at times it's very evident that they are young people. They are 22, 23, 24, and they are going through the normal things that people in that age group go through.''

The unexpected revelations of Holmes come in a week when his team will need big plays from him Sunday, perhaps more than anyone thinks. You might not have heard this, but the Steelers' best receiver and resident blood-and-soul warrior, Hines Ward, has a sprained right medial collateral ligament and will play with a balky knee brace. Tomlin took great lengths to say Ward looked "awesome'' at practice Thursday, yet it's hard to imagine him being anything but limited against the Arizona Cardinals. This is an injury that normally takes several weeks to heal, and Ward is only two weeks removed from injuring the knee in the AFC title game. He can hang out in his hyperbaric oxygen chamber, which he had transported from Pittsburgh, until his face turns blue. Ward will be operating at a deficit.

There are increasing hints, too, that quarterback Ben Roethlisberger is still dinged. Remember when he was leveled in the back, helmet-first, by a Baltimore defender in the conference title game? Well, an Internet report had him taking an X-ray Wednesday on his back and ribs. When asked Thursday about it, Roethlisberger refused to comment -- but didn't deny having the X-ray. When asked again, he said, "Didn't you just ask if I was going to comment on that?" Again, no denial. Tomlin also had a weird response when asked by pool reporter Peter King if his quarterback had an X-ray this week.

"Not that I heard," he said. "Ben's health is often the subject of inaccurate reports. He's fine.''

During practice, Roethlisberger was said to be favoring his mid-section at times. It also was noted that he made some impressive deep throws, including a 40-yarder to ... Santonio Holmes, which is what I'm getting at. For all the well-deserved talk about Arizona's Larry Fitzgerald as an explosive weapon, Holmes quietly has inspired the Steelers this postseason with high potency. When they needed a lift against the Chargers, he took a punt return 67 yards for a score. In the conference title game, he bailed out a scrambling Roethlisberger by getting open over the middle, then weaving through traffic and taking the ball 65 yards for Pittsburgh's only touchdown. At midseason, no one was a bigger Steelers joke than Holmes. In his last seven games, he has five touchdowns.

The Terrible Towel formula doesn't require much offense. Armed with an elite defense, among the league's best over the last 20 years, the Steelers need the offense to manage the clock, break a couple of long gains and let the defenders rest. That's where Holmes becomes an enormous figure in this game. In his three pro seasons, five of his 19 touchdowns have been at least 59 yards, and six more were between 30 and 45 yards.

"He has that personality where he always wants to deliver a splash play," Tomlin said. "He loves that. He's a guy that wants to be a reason we win, and not through drudgery. He wants to kill you with a bullet. That's why we try to find new and different ways to put the ball in his hands, whether it's passes over the top or punt returns or reverses.''

Said Ward: "It's just a matter of him getting more and more opportunities. He's a phenomenal wideout, an up-and-coming kid. He has all the tools to be very special. I've always told him, 'The playoffs are where you make a name for yourself,' and he has totally done that.''


To his credit, Santonio didn't foam at the mouth when presented with the concept that he could be the Super Bowl's biggest star. "That would be a big accomplishment. If I do all of the necessary things to help this team win, and, Lord willing, the opportunity comes for me to be the MVP, then I'll definitely accept it,'' said Holmes, who will be shadowed by Arizona's talented rookie cornerback, Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie. "But it will definitely be on behalf of all the guys that allowed me to make the plays and helped me make those plays. ... I've thought about it a couple times, just being that guy, always being prepared and ready to make that big play. It jumpstarts the team. It gets everyone motivated and ready to play ball.''

His speed, admittedly, was honed by chasing rabbits in Belle Glade. That was his profession before and after he sold drugs. "We did it because it helped us get money. Now, people are saying these guys are really fast because they chase rabbits,'' he said. "I never thought of it that way. Running in the muck, the soil down there, it's not like a football field. You have divots all over the ground that you have to maneuver through. I think it strengthened my legs, but a lot of the guys that chased rabbits also ran track. That probably helped elevate their speed, too.''

How does rabbit-chasing work? "We'll probably catch between 40 and 80 rabbits a day, depending on how many come out of the field or how many people are chasing them at a time,'' he said. "We would go out around seven in the morning and not get home until 6:30 at night. That was our job, what we did to make money. Our parents didn't have enough money to supply our needs. We wanted shoes and clothes, so we went out and did it on our own.''

How does one hunt down a rabbit? "You've got to take a dog with you because they love to chase the rabbits,'' he advised. "Also, you've got to take one of the cane stalks. If you're not fast enough to chase them, you've got to throw that cane stalk at them. When they're sitting in the bushes and you walk up on them, you just grab them by the body, break their neck so they die instantly, throw them in the backpack and keep moving. We're out there hunting just like people would do if they were trying to survive.''

Break their necks so they die instantly? Uh, I don't like the imagery, the idea that Holmes is the Michael Vick of rabbit-chasing. "It's between three and five dollars a rabbit. We would take them home, and my grandfather was well-known for selling fish and rabbits outside of our house,'' he said. "People would come up to the house and say, 'Hey, I want to buy five or 10 rabbits.' We sell them by the bag and put five in a bag. The price would go up depending on what kind of rabbit it was.''

Strange? Put it this way: I'd rather hear about selling rabbits than drugs.

Jay Mariotti is a national columnist and commentator for FanHouse.com. He is a daily panelist on ESPN's sports-debate show, "Around The Horn," seen Monday through Friday at 5 p.m. ET. Mariotti spent 17 years as a lead sports columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and has covered every major sporting event -- national and worldwide -- on multiple occasions.

Yo, Holmes: Drug Dealer to Super Hero? originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Sat, 31 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiSat, 31 Jan 2009 06:00:00 EST Brruuuce! Is He Bigger Than the Game?http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/30/brruuuce-is-he-bigger-than-the-game/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/30/brruuuce-is-he-bigger-than-the-game/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/30/brruuuce-is-he-bigger-than-the-game/#commentsFiled under: ,

TAMPA, Fla. -- Admittedly, I am worried. I've seen too many giggly sportswriters, too many smackgobbed football players and too many awestruck NFL officials who usually act like cardboard cutouts. I never felt this way when the Stones were being censored, when Prince did "Purple Rain'' in a downpour, when Tom Petty dug into his nasal cavity on "Free Fallin','' when Britney swapped spit with Aerosmith or even when Justin Timberlake gave Janet Jackson's outfit a ripple...

And let the world see her nipple.

But for the first time, as the lines between sports and entertainment blur into an almost indistinguishable blob, my sense is that the Super Bowl halftime show might be as big -- or bigger -- than the Super Bowl itself.

Around 8 p.m. Sunday on Thunder Road, out where there's a darkness on the edge of town, it's entirely possible that Bruce Springsteen will take his stand in Jungleland and render the NFL championship game less significant than these words: "In the day we sweat it out in the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines.''

Funny, I've heard more people debate what Springsteen's song list should be than whether the Steelers will beat the Cardinals. Would you believe Las Vegas sports books are taking action on the list? That could be a commentary on a dry matchup, the lack of transcendent stars on both teams or, more likely, the giddy anticipation of BRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!! finally appearing on the sports stage after years of resisting the commercial trappings. The troubadour himself, for the record, isn't confirming which songs he'll perform.

Anything but "Glory Days,'' the overplayed jock-rock anthem, is fine with me.

"I'm the Boss! The Boss decides what we play!" the Boss said light-heartedly to a packed audience of those same giggly sportswriters, most of whom would quit their jobs in a wobbly profession to become Springsteen roadies. "Nobody else decides. People suggest... hint... beg... cajole... but I decide."

For a man who hadn't conducted a press conference in more than 20 years, Springsteen was in a swell, joking mood . Time was when the Super Bowl halftime show was an afterthought, or a disgrace, with the emotional 9/11 tribute by U2 absurdly offset two years later by Jackson's FCC-condemned wardrobe malfunction. The next year, when Paul McCartney agreed to perform, NFL public-relations man Brian McCarthy was told before a press conference that the former Beatle's pants zipper was down. Could you imagine another wardrobe malfunction, male rock-star version? McCartney, meet McCarthy.

"We never wanted to hear those words again," the league publicist said at a Super Bowl-related breakfast. "I did approach Sir Paul and whispered into his ear, 'I think we're about to have a wardrobe malfunction. Can you check your zipper?' Indeed, it was down.'' Sir Paul pulled up his fly, and there would be no Helter Skelter for a second straight year.

You can assume Springsteen and his E Street Band members will be clothed properly. He listed three reasons why he finally broke down after two decades of rejected NFL invitations. The first is that the Super Bowl halftime slot no longer feels like a circus ring. "Initially, it was sort of a novelty and so it didn't quite feel right,'' he said. "But it was just like, this is the year. Bands of our generation, you can sort of be seen on a stage like this or, like, not seen. There's not a lot of middle places. It is a tremendous venue.''



Damn right it is, the biggest stage in entertainment, with more than 148 million U.S. viewers tuning in Petty and the Heartbreakers last year. Which brings us to the second reason: Springsteen's new CD, "Working on a Dream,'' released last week in advance of a world tour that starts April 1. I'll pause here so Bruce purists can call him a sellout. "Really, why we said yes this year was because we have a new album coming out!'' he said wryly.

"Come on. There's a new record in the stores. It just happened to come out this past week. So we have our mercenary reasons, of course. Besides our deep love of football.''

Anyone who would record "Nebraska,'' a slow record which effectively served to quell raging Brucemania, isn't in it for the money. "Good times,'' he said. "You just have years where things happen, or years where it's quieter. But what's special for me right now is I really believe our band is going through sort of a golden age. We've made three of what I think are some of our best records in a row, which is really one of the reasons we're here. And the band, on the last tour, played the best it has ever played. We've been on the road awhile. We're some old soldiers. But the band is still really burning, and I really want people to know about the record. Good year, you know? It's been great.

"You can come out and do what you do and its a good spot. The main thing is that I'm proud of this band. We stayed together, we stayed alive -- which is hard to do in our business. You're working alongside people you went to high school with 40 years ago. It's the long ride that it's all about.''

Mostly, a 59-year-old rocker wants to "play like we're 16.'' Elaborating, he invoked the New Jersey experience that always will define him. "We want it to be a 12-minute party,'' he said. "The idea of the show is, you are going to the Meadowlands, you get lost on the way. You are watching your clock, 'Damn, the show is starting right now.' You stop at a bar to get some directions, and the bar gets held up while you are there. So that takes another 45 minutes to get out of there. You come back and you miss your exit on the Turnpike, and you're driving to get back around. And so you make it to the stadium two hours and 48 minutes into the show -- that's what you are going to see: the last 12 minutes.''

The press conference served as an amphetamine to quite possibly the most boring lead-up week of the 43 Super Bowls. Everyone was writing the same five stories, myself included -- Kurt Warner's re-rebirth, Larry Fitzgerald and his sportswriting father, the Steelers' place in the pantheon of sports greatness, the improbable rise of the Cardinals and the criss-crossing quirk that finds Arizona coach Ken Whisenhunt, rejected by the Steelers for the head-coaching position won by Mike Tomlin, trying to beat his former employer. Oh, and don't forget Hines Ward's sprained knee. Thing is, you'll never guess what inter ests Ward as much as his knee and hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

"I love Bruce. I hope he plays 'Born in the USA,' '' the Pittsburgh receiver said. "He has a great voice when he says, 'Boorrrn.' He has a lot of swag about himself. He's very confident. When he's up there performing, it's all about him.''

At halftime, I pity Whisenhunt and Tomlin. Will anything they say have any chance of resonating?

"Maybe I'll sneak out early (during halftime),'' Steelers kicker Jeff Reed said. "When coach is talking to the team, I usually sneak out and go kick anyways, so maybe I'll go watch him.''

Said Steelers defensive end Brett Keisel: "I love the Boss. I saw the Boss in Pittsburgh. When we found out that the Boss was going to be playing, we felt we had a good chance to come down here. He's a lucky charm for us. Hopefully, I can meet him. Hopefully, I can jam out a little.''

One player you won't worry about is the biggest name in the game. "I'm not really a music fan much at all,'' Warner said. "It's not a knock on the Boss. Bruce Springsteen and the band, they do a tremendous job. I'm just not a huge music fan. So I don't listen to a lot of music. I don't know a lot of songs. I know the name, and it's kind of cool to have him performing at the Super Bowl, but I just don't know a lot about his music.''

Still, I'm worried. I envision a scene where Springsteen is finishing out his set, and almost 100 football players, even Warner, are staring at the band in a collective standstill. If the game stinks, I have no doubt we'll remember Super Bowl XLIII for the Boss. Even if the game doesn't stink, I have no doubt we'll remember Super Bowl XLIII for the Boss. And you know the craziest thing?

"I don't know anything about football,'' he said. "I did play the game in my backyard around the summer of 1958.''

Sounds like the beginnings of a new song.

Brruuuce! Is He Bigger Than the Game? originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Fri, 30 Jan 2009 07:45:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiFri, 30 Jan 2009 07:45:00 EST Brain Damage? Players Unwisely Ignore Dangershttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/28/brain-damage-players-unwisely-ignore-dngers/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/28/brain-damage-players-unwisely-ignore-dngers/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/28/brain-damage-players-unwisely-ignore-dngers/#commentsFiled under: ,

TAMPA, Fla. -- When his world went numb last month, when his head slammed wickedly against the ground as he was flattened by two Cleveland defenders, Ben Roethlisberger recalls being scared, sure. He couldn't feel anything in his arms. A team doctor stuck him with a pin, and he couldn't feel that, either. He lay there for 15 minutes and was hauled away on a stretcher, the victim of his third concussion in three years.

He would have headaches. Next time he tried putting on his helmet, he had trouble squeezing into it because his skull had swelled. They made him take a computer exam days later to determine if he was lucid. "They show you a bunch of words and you have to remember what they were," he said. "You have to remember shapes and colors and things like that."

So it was only right to wonder if Roethlisberger, his cap flipped backwards during another Super Bowl media session, had heard about the latest alarming news linking concussions and head trauma with degenerative brain damage. The study, conducted by doctors at Boston University's School of Medicine, concluded that six deceased ex-NFL players -- none older than 50 -- were plagued by a condition known as chronic traumatic encephalopathy.

Did the findings not give the Pittsburgh quarterback pause? Does it concern him that three of the players were former Steelers -- Mike Webster, Terry Long and Justin Strzelczyk -- and that each had died as tortured souls who'd fought deep depression? Did he know that Long committed suicide by drinking anti-freeze? That Strzelczyk was driving his pickup truck at 90 mph when he died in a head-on crash, striking a tanker truck that was hauling corrosive acid after leading police on a 40-mile chase? That Webster died of a heart attack after taking so many football-related blows to the head, one doctor said he had experienced the equivalent of 25,000 auto wrecks? That Andre Waters, a former Philadelphia Eagle, committed suicide while battling the same issues?

It isn't my intent to ruin the greatest moment of a football player's life, the days and nights leading up to a Super Bowl. But we only live once, and the dangers of playing football are more pronounced and researched than ever. Isn't it human nature, Big Ben, to worry about the long-term effects of head injuries in a violent sport? Especially when you've suffered multiple concussions and survived a serious motorcycle accident before your 27th birthday? Have you seen the study and does it worry you?



"No,'' Roethlisberger shot back. "I don't go out there and ever worry about getting hurt or being hurt in the past. I'm playing this game and living this life to the fullest. I've had that question asked a couple of times because of what I've been through, but I don't go out there and worry about it. When the Lord decides to take me, he's going to take me.''

He's either a brave man or the world's biggest fool, probably both. And just so you know, he has much company in a profession that arrogantly denies the frightening risks. It's hard not to notice the eerie juxtaposition at Super Bowl Central -- the party plans of the host city, the physical nature of the competing teams and a news conference where it was said former Tampa Bay Buccaneer Tom McHale, who died last year at 45, also suffered from CTE.

Bring on Bruce Springsteen today at the media center, where he and the E Street Band will explain why they're performing (selling out?) during the halftime show. Keep asking Mike Tomlin, Ken Whisenhunt and their players about the hard-hitting identities of the Steelers and Arizona Cardinals. But never, ever forget the sobs of Lisa McHale, a grieving widow who was told last spring that her husband had died of an accidental drug overdose and now wonders if brain damage played a more invasive role. Along with the oxycodone and cocaine that apparently caused his death, wasn't he dealing with depression, memory loss and unpredictable behavior, like the other victims?

"Eight months ago, I lost my best friend, my college sweetheart and my husband of 18 years," she told the Associated Press. "He was working as hard as he could to do the right thing. It was most crushing to him that he couldn't be who he was trying to be. He was very frustrated and very confused by what was happening to him."

And still, each morning at the team hotels, the Super Bowl participants speak with immense pride about their ability and willingness to fend off potentially life-altering injuries. People forget that Arizona receiver Anquan Boldin, best known for his sideline tantrum over playing time in the NFC title game, was torpedoed by New York Jets safety Eric Smith in a helmet-to-helmet collision and suffered a fractured sinus membrane. It was a scary scene, much like Roethlisberger's, and doctors originally suggested he might miss the rest of the season. But a football player must march on, lest he be called a wimp or worse, and Boldin returned to help the Cardinals reach the playoffs. Never mind the new hardware lodged in his grill.

"I have seven plates and forty screws,'' he said.

Does he set off metal detectors at the airport?

"Nah, they're titanium,'' he said.

And he has no qualms about persevering as the NFL's most physical and fearless wide receiver? "That has always been a part of me,'' Boldin said. "It has always been the way that I have played football, always the way that I have approached the game, and that is just a part of my makeup.''

He has a young son. Apparently, the lad wasn't too concerned about Dad. "It was about a week after the surgery,'' he said, "and we were playing around and he headbutted me pretty good.'' That's when Boldin knew he was fine.

"For me, it feels like it's not there,'' he said. "I don't feel anything from it. I mean, I know it's there, but for me, I have moved on from that incident.''

They all think they're moving on -- but most are not. Ask Ted Johnson, the former New England Patriots linebacker who retired from football convinced that concussions have created his depression, headaches, drug problems and marital issues. At his lowest point, Johnson's life was so dark, he'd leave the house for a few minutes to see his kids, then return to flick off the lights and sleep for several days. He knows why players resist reality.

"I kind of liken it to NASCAR racers who don't like going to funerals or the hospital because they don't like being reminded what could happen to them," Johnson said at the news conference. "It's the same thing with football players. We don't want to know what could potentially happen to us down the road."

Or at the start of the road, if you consider the disturbing case of an 18-year-old football player who was found to have CTE after several concussions.

Yet try telling that to Hines Ward, maybe the toughest pound-for-pound player in the sport. Despite spraining his right medial collateral ligament in the AFC title game, he will strap on a black knee brace in the big game.

"Hines is playing," Tomlin said. "I'm not worried about him." Of course he isn't. Ward literally might give his life to the Steelers if necessary, as he suggested when asked about the dangers of football.

"It's just a violent game," he said. "If you run into someone full speed with a head-to-head hit, something's bound to give. Unfortunately, it's your brain."

What, we're supposed to admire the bravado? Troy Polamalu throws around his body with such intensity in the Pittsburgh secondary, as one of the best who ever played his position, he has suffered eight career concussions. And yet, he doesn't dwell on the perils, somehow drawing parallels between football and his family.

"In my personal life, it's my wife and my son, and I try to be very passionate with how I deal with them. I'm very passionate with my family, and to me, football is no different,'' he said. "I play football with a passion. If it was ballet, I would do the same thing. Football is a contact sport. I would try to play baseball and basketball the same way with the same passion. I would try to do Ultimate Fighting and (Mixed Martial Arts) the same way. The brutality of the sport is not what drives you; it's the passion that drives your motivation.''



The NFL isn't hiding from the crisis. But as we've heard for years, there's a general skepticism about whether the league and NFL Players Association are paying enough attention in the big picture of wealth and mass popularity. Commissioner Roger Goodell is investing millions in research and has cracked the whip on vicious hitting, yet that hasn't stopped players from celebrating the big hits and even issuing bounties against opponents.

"Concussions are serious injuries, and our focus is on prevention, treatment and ongoing research,'' NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said in a release.

As Roethlisberger says, a football player can't take the field and worry about injuries. If he performs tentatively, that's when someone will knock his eyeballs out of their sockets. But I do appreciate NFL players who at least give serious thought to the inherent dangers.

"It's the sad part of this game,'' said Larry Fitzgerald, Arizona's supersonic receiver. "Football is a physical game, and I think every player who steps on the field understands that risk. But I don't think any one of us would change anything. This is football. This is a man's game, and I know that every time I go up for a pass, there's a possibility I could be knocked out. I'm willing to take that risk because I love what I do.

"You play for the love of the game.''

Twenty-five years from now, you just hope they remember the games.

Brain Damage? Players Unwisely Ignore Dangers originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Wed, 28 Jan 2009 22:50:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiWed, 28 Jan 2009 22:50:00 EST The Sweetest Assignment: A Dad Covering His Sonhttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/27/the-sweetest-assignment-a-dad-covering-his-son/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/27/the-sweetest-assignment-a-dad-covering-his-son/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/27/the-sweetest-assignment-a-dad-covering-his-son/#commentsFiled under: ,

TAMPA, Fla. -- Perched at a table in the sun, surrounded by swarms of reporters and cameras poised for The Moment, Larry Fitzgerald scanned the scene with a puzzled gaze.

"I'm looking for him. I don't know where he's at yet,'' he said, his braided hair flopping behind him, his eyes darting through the 2,100-body pileup known as Super Bowl Media Day.

"I know he'll be around somewhere.''

He was referring to his father, of course. Dynamic as Fitzgerald has been in the postseason of his mass football awakening, it's Larry Sr. who has elevated this breakthrough to a tender place in the creative realm of roman-numeral storytelling. He's the Minnesota sportswriter and syndicated radio broadcaster who is covering his 29th Super Bowl, a weathered journeyman who will take a seat in the Raymond James Stadium press box like the rest of us Sunday. What makes him different than every other media guy, now and before, is that his son will be the best player in America's biggest sports event. He never pushed Little Larry to excel in sports, but one perk of his profession was to take him to games and practices in the Twin Cities, where he experienced the presence of Kirby Puckett, Kevin Garnett, Randy Moss, even Michael Jordan.

To think the kid would grow up and become the most explosive receiver in NFL postseason history, more prolific this month than Jerry Rice, is staggering enough for a father and his son to comprehend. So to commemorate that this tale actually is real and not a crazy dream, they agreed to meet at Fitzgerald's podium during the Arizona Cardinals' portion of Media Day. There, a journalist would ask questions to an athlete, and both would try very hard not to cry.


The only problem: The journalist was running very late.

"And I was angry about it,'' Big Larry was saying Tuesday afternoon.

Seems he wasn't placed at the downtown Marriott and Embassy Suites like many Super Bowl media. He's staying out by the stadium. And because his baggage was lost the previous day by an airline, he couldn't check in for his credentials Monday night, forcing him to get up early Tuesday, hoof it about five miles downtown to the media center and try to finish the accreditation process in time to catch a bus to the stadium for a 10 AM ET interview session. His son, who signed a $30 million extension last offseason and generously offered Tuesday to restructure his contract so fellow Arizona receiver Anquan Boldin can cash in, surely would have arranged for a limo. Big Larry, who says his world hasn't changed just because his son's has, would have no part of such frills. All he wanted to know, as he sat on a bus to the stadium, was why the ride was taking so long.

"I was trying to hustle over, but I thought the bus driver was too slow,'' he said. "You can't pass up seeing your son on the podium at the Super Bowl. I didn't know when I was getting there.''

Finally, with 27 minutes left in the session, the old man arrived with his tape recorder. He weaved through the security check-in area, took an escalator up one flight, walked through a portal and made his way downstairs through the stands until at last, after being intercepted by media asking about his son, he held a microphone against a speaker near the podium. That's how crowded it was around the superstar receiver; his father couldn't get close enough to record him directly. Eventually, though, like any intrepid reporter, Big Larry was able to wedge in -- just in time to hear a man in a red dress ask his son what he thought of his/her clothing selection.

"I wore it just for you,'' said the dude, a TV reporter looking for attention.

"Thank you,'' said Fitzgerald, schooled well by his dad to avoid elaboration when necessary.

When the frivolity ended, a journalist from Minnesota was able to lob in a question. "What's this experience all about?'' he asked.

His son smiled. The dream was authentic.

"You can't put it into words what this means as a father,'' Big Larry said a little later. "It's so unbelievable. When he's growing up and playing sports, you don't doubt it can happen, and then when you see it happen, and you're here to cover it as a reporter and live the dream with him, it's beyond words. I can't stop pinching myself.''

Little Larry isn't quite as emotional about the journalism part. "It would be nice if he could come down in the stands and sit there and support me like a father, instead of sitting up in the press box where he can't cheer for me,'' he said. "But that's my dad's job,''

It isn't a job the son always has embraced. At times growing up, he thought the media were too hard on athletes. His father, writing in the Minneapolis Spokesman-Recorder with its weekly 55,000 circulation, never has come down on Larry in print, a fact that has been ridiculed this week by literary Web sites. My response would be, what's there to criticize? Fitzgerald has emerged as the most explosive weapon in football, smashing the all-time postseason yardage record with three sensational games and keeping the Pittsburgh Steelers' braintrust up at night. Yes, off the field, the mother of his one-year-old son, ex-Raiders cheerleader Angela Nazario, has accused him of domestic violence and won a restraining order against him. But let's be realistic: Should we expect Fitzgerald's father to rip him publicly when, my guess is, no columnist in the country has ripped him for it because of the legal uncertainties?

"On the personal, face-to-face, he definitely gets on me,'' Fitzgerald said.

But the job in general? "Whatever makes him happy,'' he said. "Whatever he wants to do, I love him regardless. In terms of him being tough on me, he definitely is. When I'm down, he's definitely the one to lift me. When I'm up, he's definitely the one to keep me grounded. He's a regular dad when he's around, but when he's in the media, I know he's stoic.''

The superstar does remember the advantages of it all. "It gave me a lot of opportunities to be around athletes as a youth,'' he said. "I remember going into the locker room and meeting Ken Griffey, Jr., Mark McGwire, Jose Canseco. I got a lot of baseballs signed. I met Michael Jordan and Kevin Garnett and remember having conversations with Mike Modano after North Stars games. I lived the dream as a child being around my heroes. It gave me a greater appreciation, being able to see what you wanted to do. I remember being at Vikings' training camp and watching Cris Carter and Randy Moss and saying this would be a dream come true to be an NFL player.

"I think everything I did in terms of my preparation as a youth to get here has paid off for me. I mean, I didn't go out and I didn't drink or smoke. I didn't do a lot of the things other kids in my neighborhood were doing just because my dad gave me the opportunity to see what NFL players were doing and the sacrifices they had to make.''

Go ahead and say Big Larry, as a working journalist, shouldn't have let his son get so close to the teams he was covering. Professionally speaking, you'd be right. I'll focus on the no-drinking, no-drugs part, thank you.

A son's favorite story?

"I was probably 15 or 16. I remember Kevin Garnett had just played a game, scored like 30 points but they lost,'' he said. "After the game, he talked to me for an hour by his car. You've got a superstar, Hall of Fame player who just lost a game and he takes the time out to talk to you, just a regular 16-year-old kid. That meant a lot to me, and I'll never forget about that. You see the good, you see the bad, and you definitely develop your own personality. Kirby Puckett never turned down an interview. I remember my dad taking me in the locker room one day, and Albert Belle -- he didn't do any media and he was still able to go out and play well. It's different strokes for different folks. You've got to do what works for you. My dad just told me to go out there and be myself, let my personality show.''


To this day, they are bonded in sadness as well as joy. If there's one void in this special week in their lives, it's not having Big Larry's wife and Little Larry's mother to see it. Six years ago, Carol Fitzgerald died of breast cancer. To this day, her son carries her driver's license in his wallet and remains haunted that they were estranged at the time of her passing.

"That's what is so difficult,'' Larry Sr. said. "She's not here with us.''

But the men of the family have each other, even as one carries a tape machine and makes a salary about three zeroes and one comma short of his son's guaranteed haul. Big Larry promises to obey his creed and not cheer in the press box if the Cardinals shock the world Sunday.

If that happened, I think we'd grant him a pass.

The Sweetest Assignment: A Dad Covering His Son originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Tue, 27 Jan 2009 21:54:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>larry fitzgeraldLarryFitzgeraldJay MariottiTue, 27 Jan 2009 21:54:00 EST No Axes to Grind? Don't Believe Ithttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/26/no-axes-to-grind-dont-believe-it/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/26/no-axes-to-grind-dont-believe-it/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/26/no-axes-to-grind-dont-believe-it/#commentsFiled under: ,


TAMPA, Fla. -- Ever see so many robots, automatons and, OK, fibbers? This is the first Broken Family Super Bowl, featuring the criss-crossing career dramas of Ken Whisenhunt, Mike Tomlin, Ben Roethlisberger, Russ Grimm and the front offices of the Arizona Cardinals and Pittsburgh Steelers. Yet with painstaking adamance, all are claiming -- to a man, to an exclamation point, to a stretch of every muscle in the body -- not to harbor even slight personal motives in settling professional scores Sunday.

Would it be mean to say I don't believe them?

No, Whisenhunt insists, it doesn't bother him that he wasn't the in-house favorite to replace Bill Cowher in Pittsburgh two years ago, prompting him to flee the Steelers for the head-coaching position in Arizona. "Why would I have hard feelings?" he says. "I don't have any sting of disappointment with that. Everything said about the heir apparent to Coach Cowher was not anything that involved me. That was other people speculating. I was very honored to have coached for that organization and to have interviewed for the head coaching job there.''

Is it me, or is Coach Whis crossing his fingers behind his back while stomping a Terrible Towel?

And no, Tomlin argues, he isn't fazed by the seeming pressure to beat the coach whom his Steelers bosses rejected in the process of hiring him. "It really is irrelevant,'' says Tomlin, whose exemplary work so far justifies the Rooney family's decision to bypass Whisenhunt and Grimm, another rejected Steelers assistant/candidate who joined Whisenhunt -- are you following me here? -- in Arizona. "If it's relevant for anyone, it's probably relevant for them. Me, I'm just glad that I have this opportunity. All of these things are nice to talk about, but none of those things, in my opinion, will determine the outcome of the football game. The play of the men on the field will do that.''

Oh, and Tomlin hasn't thought about the reception in Pittsburgh if he lets Whisenhunt and Grimm, part of the backbone behind a Super Bowl title in 2006, outcoach him and beat him?

And no, Roethlisberger maintains, he didn't really mean it when he ripped Whisenhunt after his departure as offensive coordinator, when he said the offense was too predictable in their final season together and that Whisenhunt made unfair comments about the quarterback after his motorcycle accident. "We are better than straight,'' Roethlisberger was saying Monday. "People think we haven't talked and that we have this huge rift between us, but unless they've checked our phone records, people don't know how much we've talked. We text message after games: 'Good job.' I look forward to hopefully seeing him this week and getting to talk to him. But people make way too big of a deal. They'll probably continue to do it, but it's really true that there is nothing (bad) between us.''

The gentlemen doth protest too much, don't you think?

I've yet to run across any rejected party in any business who isn't jacked to prove a rejector wrong. Whisenhunt and Grimm surely are no different. They might not be losing sleep, but the chance to one-up their old employers on the grandest stage is a compelling storyline. While it's true Whisenhunt actually accepted the Arizona position before Tomlin was named in Pittsburgh, it was clear during the interview process that the ruling Rooneys, Dan and Art II, were enamored of Tomlin. In retrospect, it was a stroke of brilliance. Tomlin has been a remarkably cohesive fit, with his swagger and disciplinary hold on his players at a tender 36 proving that Dan Rooney -- who also hired Cowher and Chuck Noll -- has the best eye for coaching talent in pro sports. That said, you might contend Whisenhunt has done an even better job, overhauling the gloomy, defeatist culture of the sad-sack Cardinals and pointing them to the NFL title game for the first time in 61 years. For that matter, he wasn't even the first in-house choice of the Rooneys, who preferred Grimm until they were wowed by Tomlin in his formal interview.

I find it hard to believe, for instance, that there isn't some level of tension between Whisenhunt and Roethlisberger, despite their text messaging. It was Ben who fanned the flames last season when he avoided Whisenhunt before and after the Cardinals beat the Steelers. He was bruised by Whisenhunt's assessment of the QB after accepting the Arizona job, when he said, "I just saw physically in the pocket there were some things you could sense where he wasn't as confident as the year before. A lot of that, I think, was because of recovering from the injuries.''

Roethlisberger fired back at the time. "I don't agree with Whis. There were a lot of things I didn't agree with Whis about, and that's another one,'' he told the Pittsburgh media. "Coach Cowher always came to me and asked me how I felt, and I was always 100 percent honest with him. I was always honest with the doctors, I don't think anything was rushed. I think I just didn't play well. I had a bad year. I'm sure Whis had a bad year once in his career." Later, in a national publication, Ben blamed Whisenhunt for not letting him pass enough and being overly conservative. Did they not win a Super Bowl together only months before? Before the game in Arizona, Tomlin summoned Roethlisberger and asked him to stop the sniping, and the QB's text-messaged apology to Whisenhunt soon followed. It can be assumed this week that Tomlin's rules are in place, 100 fold, while the global media search for truth and justice.

"I think Ben had a couple of perfect passer ratings, and I think he won a Super Bowl. So if that's a product of it, then that's not bad,'' Whisenhunt says now. "I certainly respect the player that he's grown into. I hope that our time together contributed a little bit to that. He was always very good with me and worked very hard. I was very lucky to have him as a quarterback, especially my first year as a coordinator and what we were able to do."

Guess who quickly returned the kisses? "Coach Whisenhunt was awesome for me,'' Roethlisberger said at the team hotel. "Whether it was on the golf course, the football field or the meeting rooms, he was a very good mentor for me. He really helped me become the player I am today, and I'm really proud and happy that he is here and that I get to play against him.

"I just hope I can beat him.''

Precisely.

In the middle of it all is Tomlin, the renaissance man who quoted Robert Frost after the AFC title game and was named pro football's sexiest coach by GQ magazine. You're tempted to say Tomlin has been so good, the Steelers don't miss Whisenhunt or Grimm in any form -- unless, of course, the Cardinals finish off one of sport's all-time shockers and leave Tomlin as the loser in an improbable drama. Tomlin is a prime example of why the Rooney Rule, based on Dan Rooney's mandate that minority candidates be given a fair opportunity in the NFL coaching game, is a historic mechanism in racial equality. Rather than dwell on the relative irrelevance of the Whisenhunt drama, Tomlin spoke of the Rooney Rule and the fact he was hired by, well, the Rooneys.

"Sure, it's one of the reasons,'' Tomlin said. "Anything that brings light to the circumstances and situations in terms of opportunity, it's a factor. It was a factor in me getting an opportunity. I came into the league as a minority intern with the Cleveland Browns when I coached college football. That was a great avenue to expose the NFL to me. Prior to that, I had no intentions of coaching in the NFL. I left that internship committed to coaching in the NFL because it was such a positive experience.''

Tomlin also refuses to speculate on what advantages the Cardinals might have via Whisenhunt's inside knowledge. But as seen last season in Arizona's 21-14 win, which included two interceptions and four sacks of Roethlisberger, any wisdom about strengths and weaknesses matters. "I hope it can't hurt us that we know a little bit about them," Whisenhunt said. "I think knowing the personnel for the most part is a little easier because you don't have to spend as much time doing that. We have two weeks to prepare.''

As for Roethlisberger, who played poorly in the Super Bowl victory and already is hearing questions about it, he says it's up to him and the Steelers to beat the Whis and his spywork. "That's the million dollar question everyone has been asking,'' he said. "When push comes to shove, the guys are playing football on the field. You can only coach so much.''

In this swirling, cross-pollinating drama, I beg to differ.

Jay Mariotti is a national columnist and commentator for FanHouse.com. He is a daily panelist on ESPN's sports-debate show, "Around The Horn," seen Monday through Friday at 5 p.m. ET. Mariotti spent 17 years as a lead sports columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and has covered every major sporting event -- national and worldwide -- on multiple occasions.

No Axes to Grind? Don't Believe It originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Mon, 26 Jan 2009 22:33:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiMon, 26 Jan 2009 22:33:00 EST Warner's Story Bigger Than Hall of Famehttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/25/warners-story-bigger-than-hall-of-fame/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/25/warners-story-bigger-than-hall-of-fame/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/25/warners-story-bigger-than-hall-of-fame/#commentsFiled under: ,

Kurt WarnerTAMPA, Fla. -- Why be shortsighted about this? If the issue is whether Kurt Warner belongs in the Hall of Fame, why restrict him to a round building in Ohio with a football popping out the roof? How about Ripley's Believe it or Not Museum? The Louvre and the Smithsonian? The Hy-Vee Supermarkets Aisle of Fame? I'd even propose a lifetime Good Husband medal for a man so devoted to his wife, he just broke the record for most postgame tears spilled in her honor.

That mark previously belonged to Rod Tidwell. The fact he played fictitiously in Jerry Maguire for the Arizona Cardinals, the perfect farcical organization for the Tom Cruise-as-sports-agent movie, supplies even more evidence that Warner has cracked the code for Canton and other immortality shrines. Not only has he fashioned the all-time, bags-to-riches, can't-be-duplicated, beyond-hallucinatory fairy tale, he has done so while reviving two dubious, downtrodden franchises: the Cardinals and St. Louis Rams.

We know about his original miracle -- toiling with the Arena League's Iowa Barnstormers, bagging and stocking groceries as a second job for $5.50 an hour, using food stamps to survive, then exploding in a meteor shower to become a Super Bowl champion and two-time MVP of the National Football League. In and of itself, that story is preposterously beautiful.

But to return almost a decade later with an equally improbable addendum, after he repeatedly was benched and injured and told he was a washed-up goat who threw too many interceptions and fumbled too much?

Please, these things simply don't happen in life without screenwriters and a production company. I don't care what happened between Super Bowl XXXIV in Atlanta and Super Bowl XLIII in Tampa, where the Cardinals and Pittsburgh Steelers begin work today. As far as the Hall is concerned, Warner had me at "hut, hut" in the NFC title game -- when he climaxed a 14-play, 72-yard drive with a touchdown pass to Tim Hightower, which put the long-tragicomic Cardinals in the big game for the first time and made hell freeze over in the Sonoran Desert.

"I'm still shaking my head -- like, man, it really happened," Warner said.

It did. And the biggest debate you'll hear this week (along with which player is dumb enough to visit the world-famous Mons Venus strip club) is Warner's Hall candidacy as it pertains to his remarkable journey. His coach, Ken Whisenhunt, certainly supports the concept.

"Absolutely," he told reporters. "Being a two-time MVP, winning a Super Bowl, getting two teams there, and being able to come back and play at a high level and get this team there makes him a Hall of Fame player. My answer is definitely yes." Want more lobbying? Joe Montana, merely the greatest quarterback ever, calls Warner "a shoo-in."


Not every Hall inductee must have a perfect, bookend-to-bookend career. In Warner's case, the enormity of his trail -- the initial perseverance, the hardships after his major success, his from-the-ashes resurrection in Phoenix -- outweighs career statistical totals that obviously can't approach those of Brett Favre, Dan Marino and John Elway. Skeptics say Warner is only 38th all-time with 28,591 passing yards (Favre has 65,127) and 40th with 182 touchdown passes (Favre has 464).

Sports Illustrated's Peter King, the most influential football writer in the land, insists Warner isn't a "singular player in his era" because he has produced only five outstanding seasons in 10 years. He raves about two eras of "Great Kurt," but he bemoans mid-career struggles in which Warner started only 31 times in five years and averaged five TD passes and six interceptions a season. "Would my opinion change if Warner, who will be 38 on opening day 2009, won a third MVP?" King writes. "Or if he won a second Super Bowl with a second team? It very well could. Let's see what the future brings."

I will counter thusly: Warner's career is too uniquely magical to be judged by the usual yardsticks. He shouldn't be overly penalized for injuries, including hand and thumb problems that complicated ball maintenance -- when healthy, he has produced immaculate results in several categories: second all-time with a 65.4 completion percentage, third all-time with a 93.8 passer rating, third all-time with 7.11 yards per pass attempt and more than 300 passing yards in 46 percent of his games, by far the most ever. In the postseason, Warner has a 97.3 career passing rating, which is better than Montana's and falls short of only Bart Starr's 104.8. His postseason record is 8-2.

All of which feeds a transcendent statement, one grander than football, that must be preserved for generations to come. If and when my grandkids visit the Hall of Fame, I want them to see Warner's bust and know about his story. It will help if he plays a couple of more seasons and adds to his totals, something he and the Cardinals should want dearly with the phenomenal Larry Fitzgerald in the house. But even if this is a brief Warner renaissance, he has convinced me of his Canton worth. Not that he's wrapped up in the discourse.

"They can debate all they want," Warner said. "I'm just in the Super Bowl again. I like that."

He won't say it, but winning a second NFL championship surely would create a Mount Rushmore effect among the doubters. Warner will spend much of the week counseling his teammates about the Super Bowl experience. "It's crazy. The more uptight you get with it, the less you enjoy it, the harder it is for you to prepare," he said. "Embrace it. Enjoy every minute. Stay loose. If you don't want to sign autographs, stay in your room. Don't let it become a burden. Understand how big of a blessing it is."

And to think Warner would be home now, maybe pondering retirement, if Matt Leinart wasn't so unprepared and immature. Whisenhunt and offensive coordinator Todd Haley had been prepping the former Heisman Trophy winner as their QB-in-waiting, but between inconsistency on the field and beer-bonging and hot-tubbing off the field, Leinart wasn't ready to step in. A competition was held in the preseason, with Haley urging Warner to protect the football if he wanted the job. He did just that -- and Leinart did not. The rest is part of the Warner legend.

"For a veteran not to be named the starter for this season had to be very difficult. But there was never any complaint," Whisenhunt said. "All he said was that he wanted an opportunity. He got that, and he took advantage of it. Kurt really worked on a lot of things with his game, from moving in the pocket to protecting the football. He does things a lot of older quarterbacks don't want to do, and that's a credit to his humility, his competitive drive -- and it's the reason we are here today."


Ah, his competitive drive. Warner heard declarations of his football death and derived motivation from it. "I think, being in my situation, I've had a number of people who seemed to indicate, 'He played great for so long and now he doesn't have it anymore,' " he said. "You sit back and you think, 'I didn't lose anything. I can still play the same way.' My strengths I had in St. Louis are the same ones I have right now. You don't ever forget how to play the game."

Nor, it turns out, was he a fluke who thrived in Mike Martz's "Greatest Show on Turf" act in St. Louis. "It's definitely gratifying any time somebody says you can't do it, or maybe you were never that good, you were the product of a system," Warner said. "I get satisfaction in that I've helped organizations turn the corner in some degree. Everybody knows the (failure) stigma of Arizona."

Now that he has turned the stigma into a revelation, Warner wants to sign a contract extension with the Cardinals. He even issued an ultimatum of sorts: "I don't really want to go anywhere else and try to re-establish myself or have to go through the whole rebuilding process and move the family," he said. "I want to be here if I continue to play."

As Tidwell would say, show him the money. My expectation is, they will.

Whatever the future holds, Warner's place in sports lore is intact. From Hy-Vee to the highest perch of his sport, he has refused to let anyone or anything break his will. "It's been a journey," he said. "It's hard to put into words. It's amazing."

Imagine the words we'll use if he wins Sunday.

Warner's Story Bigger Than Hall of Fame originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Sun, 25 Jan 2009 20:52:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiSun, 25 Jan 2009 20:52:00 EST Believe It: Arizona Miracle No Miragehttp://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/18/believe-it-arizona-miracle-no-mirage/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/18/believe-it-arizona-miracle-no-mirage/http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2009/01/18/believe-it-arizona-miracle-no-mirage/#commentsFiled under: ,

Kurt WarnerGLENDALE, Ariz. -- Feel free to believe in reincarnation, peace on earth, honest politicians, Spam, Mickey Rourke and the sobriety of Hollywood bimbos. It's one thing for a stadium to rise from the dust like an enormous metal mushroom, quite another for it to emit hallucinogens that would transform the Arizona Cardinals -- I repeat, the Arizona Cardinals -- into an irrepressible red army.

If they can crash through decades of rotten karma and reach the Super Bowl, thus ending the longest-running joke monologue in pro football, our bucket lists in life really should have no boundaries. Why not envision Kurt Warner, the re-reborn quarterback, reviving the Greatest Show on Turf in the desert sand, returning to the big game for the third time and reinforcing his Hall of Fame candidacy? Why not picture the phenomenal Larry Fitzgerald, dreadlocked and media-reticent, elevating his game to postseason heights where Jerry Rice and no other receiver has gone? Imagine: The Arizona Football Cardinals, once as cuddly as rattlesnakes and cacti, are the first sports darlings of the Obama presidency.

What's next? The Cubs winning a World Series? The Washington Generals winning a game? Charlie Brown kicking the ball before Lucy pulls it away?

I'm standing on the field, swallowed up by the post-game euphoria, still trying to fathom the absurdity of it all. A machine is blowing red and white confetti. Police are ringing the playing area. "We Are The Champions!'' blasts over the speakers. Fans who used to avoid this team like summertime scorpions are stomping, yelling, even crying. And Warner is capturing it as only he can, clutching a leather-bound Bible and wearing a red t-shirt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa,'' he says giddily a few minutes later, interrupting the first question in his interview room. "I've got to thank Jesus, again, because he's the only reason why I'm here. And the second thing I want to say is, Arizona Cardinals and Super Bowl in the same sentence. The Arizona Cardinals in the Super Bowl. How about it?''

The uprising is no mirage. Fueled by Warner's unstoppable game of pitch-and-catch with Fitzgerald -- suddenly, the most exciting player in the sport -- the Cardinals became the NFL's equivalent of an alien invasion Sunday. Oh, there were some typically paranoiac moments, including a no-show third quarter and 19 unanswered points by Donovan McNabb and the Philadelphia Eagles. But just when it appeared Team Angina might torture a battered fan base with the cruelest of collapses, there they were again, Warner and Fitzgerald, awakening the corpse once and for all with a definitive 72-yard touchdown drive and the damnedest lob-and-leap you'll ever see in a big moment..

The NFL is a crazy league, I know. But a team that was playing like dog poo in December and lost five games in the Eastern time zone has emerged, I dare say, as an American dream. Sixty-one years have passed since the Cardinals won an NFL championship, and while they'll be underdogs against the Pittsburgh Steelers, Big Red is the coolest story and hottest rage. It seems like only yesterday when Dennis Green, now reduced to a Coors Light commercial, was delivering the infamous tirade -- "The Bears are who we thought they were ... If you want to crown em, then crown their (bleep),'' -- that seemed to symbolize eons of futility in Chicago, St. Louis and Arizona.

Now the Cardinals are NFC champs, a testament to perseverance made possible by a league of parity. You'll be hearing about the attitude-adjustment work done by coach Ken Whisenhunt and long, lost redemption enjoyed by the ridiculed, bolo-tied owner, Bill Bidwill. But make no mistake, this 32-25 triumph was about two fascinating people who have become the yin and yang of a historic breakthrough.

The most remarkable tale belongs to Warner, who already had an improbable fairy tale attached to his resume -- Iowa grocery-store bagboy to Arena Leaguer to two-time MVP and Super Bowl champion. Somehow, he has one-upped himself by completing another roman-numeraled run at age 37. The best thing to happen to this franchise, in retrospect, was when Matt Leinart romped in a hot tub last spring with bikinied babes and a beer bong. It reminded Whisenhunt that the quarterback of the future still had maturity issues. If the Cardinals wanted to win now, they would have to try the veteran who was benched four times in six years and wouldn't know a beer bong from a exhaust pipe.

What we've witnessed is a resounding reclamation. If they voted for MVP awards after the postseason, as they should in pro sports, Warner might have won his third. He was the locker room inspiration and on-field impetus for the Arizona surge, and while much of America was dismissing Arizona's chances earlier this month, he and his teammates used the mass disrespect as food for the machine. That's why, in his mind, what's happening is just as special as his 1999 run with the St. Louis Rams.

"What's great about this is that everyone counted us out and everyone counted me out,'' Warner said. "They said, 'OK, this is Atlanta, the Cardinals don't have a chance. This is Carolina, the Cardinals don't have a chance. This is Philadelphia, so the Cardinals really don't have a chance.' We bonded together through that and believed in each other.''

He was about a post-game scene when his wife, Brenda, leaped into his arms. Haven't we seen it somewhere before, about 10 years ago in St. Louis? He smiled, then paused as tears rushed to his eyes. "She just said she loved me,'' Warner said, his words cracking. "It has been a journey, all over the place, and she has been there from the beginning. We just felt joy, saying we love each other, and that there's no one I'd rather share it with.''

Unlike John Elway, Dan Marino, Brett Favre and Peyton Manning, Warner isn't wrapped inside a regal quarterbacking aura. But maybe it's time we place him there. He has the second-highest career completion percentage in NFL history and third-best passer rating. He has 49 passing games of at least 300 yards, ranking fifth all-time. And how many other quarterbacks have taken two different teams to a Super Bowl? Only Craig Morton. "I feel like I've always been able to do this," he said. "Given the opportunity, I felt like I would do it again. I don't know if there is personal satisfaction. There's not any I-told-you-so or whatever. I think it's more appreciation for this organization and the coaching staff to give me that opportunity again."

It helps to have a godsend like Fitzgerald, who has become the talk of this NFL January, even if he hates talking about himself. In the first half, he shredded the Eagles and their master defensive coordinator, Jim Johnson, for three touchdown passes and finished the game with 152 yards on nine catches. That gives him 419 receiving yards for three playoff games, the most for any player in NFL postseason history and eclipsing RIce's 409 yards in 1988. He and Warner are playing in their own cocoon; everyone knows they're coming, and no one can do a damned thing about it. In fact, the only people who can stop Fitzgerald are the news media.

He doesn't enjoy dealing with us. It hardly makes him unique, but America wants to know his story and he's still not budging. Curiously, his father, Larry Sr., is a sports journalist and radio host in the Twin Cities. Asked by the Arizona Republic why his son doesn't embrace the media, Papa Fitz said, "I think some of it is that he has seen his dad and other journalists go hard after athletes.'' Two years ago, at a Super Bowl party in Miami, his son wasn't terribly happy about something I'd said on TV -- and not about him, either. He's just rather play ball and go home, his usual ritual until the NFL asked him to address the national media Sunday.

Isn't he thrilled about his breathtaking performances and new profile? "I'm really not thinking about that,'' Fitzgerald said "I'm enjoying the moment and looking forward to playing in the Super Bowl.'' He's a renaissance man of sorts, articulate and worldly, having taking adventures as varied as bungee-jumping in New Zealand and hiking the Machu Picchu in Peru. But he'd rather his record-breaking surge not be accompanied by record numbers of reporters in Tampa, which is unavoidable.

"We're just going to keep our heads down, keep on working,'' he said. "I'm doing my job. I want to make sure I'm accountable -- if not, I get the death stare from Kurt, and I don't want that.''

Standing in a corner of the room, Warner rushed over to Fitzgerald and hugged him. They are kindred spirits in ways beyond a thrown football. Because of Warner's deeply religious beliefs and eagerness to voice them, some teammates were leery of him, to the point few showed up last summer when he and Brenda invited the team to their home for a cookout. It was Fitzgerald who told Warner that some guys felt a little, well, intimidated by his spiritual opinions. If such moments are sensitive in the beginning, they eventually served to unite the Cardinals. All you need to know is the attitude in the huddle after the Eagles rallied and took a 25-24 lead with 10:45 left.

"The demeanor in the huddle didn't change at all," Fitzgerald said. "The guys were focused and ready to go. You could see the look in guys' eyes. Nobody wanted to be the guy who let this team down. Everybody did their job when we needed them to do it.''

Next thing you knew, Warner was standing on a podium with Bidwill and Whisenhunt and all these folks who'd never passed this way before. "I want to say thanks to all of you guys," he said, addressing the dazed, delirious crowd. "When nobody else believed in us, when nobody else believed in me, you guys did -- and we're going to the Super Bowl!"

They are. Really.

Jay Mariotti is a national columnist and commentator for FanHouse.com. He is a daily panelist on ESPN's sports-debate show, "Around The Horn," seen Monday through Friday at 5 p.m. ET. Mariotti spent 17 years as a lead sports columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and has covered every major sporting event -- national and worldwide -- on multiple occasions.

Believe It: Arizona Miracle No Mirage originally appeared on Jay Mariotti FanHouse on Sun, 18 Jan 2009 22:45:00 EST . Please see our terms for use of feeds.

 

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]]>Jay MariottiSun, 18 Jan 2009 22:45:00 EST