NFL teams
Shaun Assael, ESPN Senior Writer 18y

By the Numbers

Seattle Seahawks, Pittsburgh Steelers, Carolina Panthers, Denver Broncos

Lofa Tatupu knew Andy Reid was gunning for him. The Seahawks' rookie middle linebacker had just jumped in front of L.J. Smith on an inside route and corralled an interception, returning it 38 yards. Two series later, Seattle was up by 21 points and Smith, the Eagles tight end, was lining up in the exact same way.

Nah, thought Tatupu. Can't be the same route. Has to be a trap. At the snap, Tatupu shadowed Smith as if he were being led inside, then played a hunch and pivoted downfield, exactly where Reid had told Smith to go. Before Koy Detmer's pass could reach its target, the 5'11'' Tatupu tipped it to a teammate. "Coach Reid figured he'd go at the rookie," Tatupu says of the early December game. "I'm proud of what I showed him."

What the 23-year-old from USC has shown everyone is that he's got football smarts that belie his age. Tatupu's been the defensive signal-caller since the start of the season. At first he was so nervous that his voice could barely be heard in the huddle. Now, says defensive end Bryce Fisher, "He says, 'Shut up and listen.'" This is a rookie who, once he gets the play from the sideline and makes the call in the huddle, needs just a split second to analyze his team's front seven and make sure they aren't telegraphing the coverage.

Credit his dad, Mosi, who spent 14 years as an NFL special-teamer. Or his mom, Linnea, the daughter of a marine who wanted a boy so badly he taught Linnea how to box. Or maybe Pete Carroll, who got Tatupu ready for the pros by having him run pro-style schemes in the passhappy Pac-10. But inevitably, those who know Tatupu the best credit the one thing that can't be taught, his instincts. "He won't kill you with speed," says Trojans assistant coach Ken Norton Jr. "But his instincts are so good that, between the tackles, he's the fastest guy on the field."

And once he's off it, he's the quickest to deflect attention. After Seattle's Nov. 20 game against the 49ers, Tatupu made on odd request of the NFL's statistician: take away the half-sack credited to him because it belonged to fellow rookie linebacker Leroy Hill. He also once begged Mike Holmgren to have the special-teams unit announced before a game. And after the Seahawks beat the 49ers again on Dec. 11, Tatupu deflected credit for a stat line that read four tackles, a sack, an interception, a fumble recovery and a pass deflection. The fumble, he told reporters, fell into his hands. The interception was tipped into them. "The only thing I worked on was the sack," he said. "Even then I should have swiped the ball."

Self-criticism is the only way the Wrentham, Mass., native could have made it to the NFL. Given his Tedy Bruschi-esque size, no D1 schools wanted him after high school, so he decamped to D1-AA Maine. He began the season as a reserve and finished it as the team's second-leading tackler. But it still took a word from his Trojan-alum dad to convince Carroll that Lofa's game film was worth watching. Even two years starting for the back-toback NCAA champs left pro scouts skeptical. At the NFL combine, Tatupu sidled up to a scout and begged to be listed as a six-footer, asking, "Couldn't we be just a little creative?"

Tatupu's attitude is exactly what the Seahawks were looking for to revamp their D, which was short on both talent and character. Along with imports like Fisher and cornerback Andre Dyson, Tatupu has improved a unit that led the league with 50 sacks and allowed just 16.9 points a game, seventh in the league. Says Holmgren, "I can't imagine a rookie having more of an impact."

But skepticism hangs over the team like the clouds perennially parked over Qwest Field. If you scratch the games against the Giants (who missed three potential game-winning field goals), the Eagles (who played without Donovan McNabb or Terrell Owens) and the Colts (who'd already locked up first place), Seattle's wins have come against teams with a combined 38—76 record.

Of course, being underestimated is nothing new for Tatupu. His family has even given him a nickname: the Seahawks' Seabiscuit. "I hope that doesn't catch on," he says.

Considering how he's helped carry the Seahawks D on his back, it just might.


Willie Parker In 5 Easy Words

By David Fleming

Call him a Cinderella in spikes. Call him the castoff who came out of nowhere to lead the Steelers to the AFC title game. There are so many words to describe Steelers running back Willie Parker, but we narrowed it down to these five:

1. EXPOSED As a junior at Clinton (N.C.) High, Parker led the Dark Horses to the state title while averaging 11.8 yards per carry. His performance that season stuck with local Steelers scout Dan Rooney Jr., who happens to be the son of team chairman Dan Rooney. While Parker started just five games in four years at North Carolina, Rooney worked him out in 2004 when visiting other Tar Heels draft prospects. He still liked what he saw. The Steelers signed the back as an undrafted free agent. Says Parker, "One wrong turn and I know this all doesn't happen."

2. EXPLOSIVE As you'd expect from a guy nicknamed Fast Willie, Parker's speed has become legendary. Officially he's been clocked at 4.28 seconds in the 40. But he says he hasn't lost a footrace to a biped since junior high. When he got tired of lapping his friends, neighbors matched him against a pit bull. He lost that race. But not by much.

3. EXCLUDED After Parker's freshman season at North Carolina, the Tar Heels hired a new coach, John Bunting, who wanted a more physical offense. That made the then-200-pound Parker the odd man out. He'd never have more than 84 carries in a college season and gained just 1,172 yards over four years, 30 fewer than he rushed for this past season with the Steelers. Parker's only protest came on senior day, when he wrote the words "I'm Gonna Make It" on one of his wristbands. "I'm not trying to say I told you so," says Parker. You just did, Willie.

4. FLEXIBLE The 5'10'', 209-pound Parker used to rush outside no matter what. But thanks to his tutor, Jerome Bettis, Parker has learned to hit the designated inside holes hard, then make his moves outside. "It's not easy," says Parker. "But I've learned to fight wanting to outrun everyone." The result? Parker is the only Steelers back besides Bettis to gain more than 1,000 yards since 1992.

5. EXALTED By the end of 2004, with a 63:37 run-to-pass ratio, the Steelers offense had become predictable, which led to an embarrassing loss to the Patriots at home in the AFC title game. It didn't help Ben Roethlisberger that Steelers backs combined had eight runs of 20 yards or more last season. This year, Parker has eight on his own, including an 80-yard TD run Dec. 24 in Cleveland. That home run threat has kept defenses off balance and eased pressure on Roethlisberger. Says Bill Cowher: "Willie has the one thing we've never had-speed." Which could lead to another thing Cowher's never had: a Super Bowl ring.


Four Ways To Scare Everyone Around You

By David Fleming

Steve Smith, the 2005 co-Comeback Player of the Year, is scary in just about every way imaginable. He's scary good: after missing the final 15 games of 2004 with a broken left fibula, he returned this year to lead the Panthers to their second NFC title game in three years. He also became the first wide receiver in 13 years to win the triple crown, leading or tying for the league lead in catches (103), yards (1,563) and TDs (12). But Smith is also scary bad: the demons that have driven him to the pinnacle of the NFL have repeatedly threatened to send the volatile and explosive Panther over the edge. So yeah, there are lots of reasons to fear Smith, but none more so than these four:

1. HE'S AN ODDS-BEATER Besides being 5'9'' in an era of receiving giants, Smith began his one-in-a-million route to the NFL with daily, twohour bus rides from his home in South Central LA to the campus of Santa Monica Junior College. "I didn't have a backup plan for my life," Smith says. "That's why I pushed so hard at first, maybe too hard."

2. HE NEVER STOPS The broken fibula was Smith's second careerthreatening injury. His junior year at Utah, Smith played the entire final regular-season game with a fractured fourth vertebra. He wore a neck brace for 10 weeks and returned his senior year to set the Utes' career record for yards per catch (20.6). Taken in the third round of the 2001 draft by Carolina, Smith can sum up his take on life like this: after what I've been through, nothing frightens me.

3. HE'S A BIG-GAMER Smith operates at receiver like Iverson plays the point: fearlessly, explosively and right at the heart of your defense. In the divisional playoffs, Smith turned out to be the real Monster of the Midway, catching 12 passes for 2 TDs and a career-high 218 yards. The more defenses scheme for him, the more the Panthers try to stay balanced with their run attack and the more QB Jake Delhomme keeps going back to Smith.

4. HE PICKS FIGHTS ¼ WITH EVERYONE Smith says that the year away from football helped him gain perspective. But in a loss to Dallas on Dec. 24, he was ejected and fined $15,000 for bumping an official. It was a temporary setback for Smith, who has worked hard to change the mouthy, temperamental loner act that in 2002 led to a film-room fight during which Smith broke the jaw of practice-squad player Anthony Bright. "He was like a firecracker," says Panthers backup QB Chris Weinke. "He could explode at any second. He's intense. But if you're looking for a guy to stand next to you in a dark alley when there's gonna be trouble, Steve Smith is your guy."

A scary thought, for teammates and opponents alike.


Battered Digits

By Seth Wickersham

Al Wilson delivers bone-crunching hits. Only problem is that this year, many of those crunched bones belong to the Broncos linebacker. Wilson's right ring finger, for example, is pregnant at the knuckle. But at least it moves, unlike his middle finger, which is bent at 90° (maybe for good). Then again, at least the middle finger doesn't bleed all the time, as his index finger does (thanks to a Grand Canyon-size gash). And the index finger doesn't have a metal rod in it and a cast around it, like the thumb does.

They're all part of Wilson's game. The seven-year veteran is a linebacker on a par with Brian Urlacher or Ray Lewis, minus the hype. "I'm not a guy who dances around when I make a tackle," he says. True, but that's usually because he's in pain. This is someone who, in a Dec. 24 game against Oakland, collided so violently with wispy Randy Moss that he knocked himself out, which is like getting a concussion from a shower curtain.

But if you think he's a wreck now, you should have seen Wilson a few years ago. Using short, choppy steps instead of long strides-a running style he learned at Central-Merry High in Jackson, Tenn.-Wilson spent his first few NFL seasons proving that with his 4.4 speed, he could hit so hard it echoed. "If it ran," he says, "I hit it."

Wilson made the Pro Bowl from 2001 to 2003, but smart offenses used misdirection and bootlegs to bait him into hitting anyone but the ballcarrier.

Then, before the 2004 season, Rod Smith pulled Wilson aside. "You're a leader on this team," Smith said, which shouldn't have been a surprise, considering even Peyton Manning has conceded that Wilson was the unquestioned leader of his late-'90s Vols teams. But Wilson was stunned.

"I am?" he said.

"Yeah," Smith said, "so you have to grow up."

That meant making smart plays instead of just loud ones. The talk has influenced Wilson ever since. Not only is he headed to his fourth Pro Bowl, but he's also playing the best football of his career. Watch him against the Bills on Dec. 17, when he dropped into coverage, saw no receivers heading his way, took aim at the pocket and sacked Kelly Holcomb. Or against the Patriots in October, when he effectively ended a Tom Brady comeback by separating Deion Branch from the ball on third and 20 with five minutes left in the game (one of his career-high nine passes defensed this year). Or in a September Monday nighter against the Chiefs, after rookie cornerback Darrent Williams was beaten twice for first downs by Dante Hall. Wilson approached Williams and-with that glare only middle linebackers possess-screamed: "Tighten up!" Says Williams: "I'll admit it. He really scared me."

No wonder coach Mike Shanahan calls Wilson a complete player. "He's able to harness his intensity," he says, "enabling him to think straight."

Now all Wilson must do to taste his first Super Bowl is put the wraps on Willie Parker. "I've never been to one," Wilson says. "I'm ready."

His right pinky better watch out.

^ Back to Top ^