Amid the locker room chaos on game days, as his Seahawks teammates move at hyperspeed, Bryce Fisher takes his time. The fifth-year defensive end sits quietly and cleans his black cleats with a towel. After putting on his uniform, he stands before a mirror, straightening and adjusting. He checks that his jersey is taped evenly and tightly over his shoulder pads, shifting it until his name and number are centered. He won't leave for the field until he's satisfied with the image that stares back at him.
He's not vain. It's the way Fisher was trained to prepare. In four years at the Air Force Academy, two years of active duty and now as a captain with the Washington Air National Guard, wearing a uniform has become about honoring something larger than himself. As on game day, before he reports for Guard duty he irons his navy blue pants and light blue shirt, carefully pins his rank and ribbons to his jacket and checks himself in the mirror that hangs in his walk-in closet. "How I look says something," explains Fisher. "I want to represent the tradition properly."
The way Fisher willingly walks the line is why Mike Holmgren wanted him. Last season, the Seahawks D had problems holding advantages built by the prolific offense, most conspicuously squandering a fourth-quarter lead to the Rams in a first-round playoff loss. Critics ripped the unit for its lack of heart. So when Holmgren went free agent shopping, he looked for character as much as talent. Having seen Fisher when he lined up for the Rams, the coach knew he'd get both with one hire. "To survive the Academy, you've got to be bright and disciplined and able to take orders," says Holmgren. "Those were good things for our team."
Fisher learned those traits the hard way from his mom, Diana Ferrant. A six-foot-tall native of Panama, Ferrant emigrated to Renton, Wash., a Seattle suburb, in the mid-1970s. She had three sons, got divorced, and then put her boys through private school by working construction. "I'd come home filthy," says Ferrant, the first woman and Latina to be accepted into the Renton local. "I'd tell my kids, 'If you don't want to be smelly and dirty like me, you'd better get your education.' " As much as Fisher begged, she didn't let him play football until he was 14, and even then, only if he kept his grades up.
Fisher didn't coast to stay on the field. He studied Japanese and took honors math courses. To help pay his tuition, he did time as a school janitor. "At first it bothered me," he says. "But my mom had gone through some pretty tough stuff, so she was like, this is nothing, toughen up."
Of course, Ferrant also knew when to coddle her boy. Once he began attending the Academy, she sent Fisher his childhood teddy bear when life there threatened to overwhelm him. Fisher dropped 35 pounds—down to 205—during basic training in his freshman year. "If an officer asked you a question during dinner, you had seven chews to swallow and answer before you got in trouble," says Fisher. "If it took longer than seven chews, you've taken too big a bite. You're being a pig." Trouble meant anything from marching at attention for 50 minutes to 99 push-ups.
In his first two years in Colorado Springs, Fisher was broken down, then built back up. "You have to function while being yelled at," he says. "But they're teaching you to control your emotions in adverse situations." Life on the football field seemed easy by comparison. Fisher was drafted by the Bills in the seventh round of the 1999 draft and, after two years of mandatory active service at
Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina, played a season in Buffalo before being waived. The Rams picked him up, but no one expected big things from a backup to Grant Wistrom and Leonard Little. In fact, during his first two seasons, he had just two sacks. Then Wistrom signed with Seattle in 2004 and Fisher took over. His 8.5 sacks in 14 starts was a nice output for someone in his free agent year. When Holmgren called with an offer from his hometown team, a chance to be bookended with his old pal Wistrom and a promise he'd be a part of the plan, Fisher jumped. "It was huge," he says. "There wasn't a quick hook if I screwed up."
Not that he ever did. The 6'3'', 272-pound end finished the year with nine sacks. And he set the tempo for the season with a sack in each of Seattle's first three games. Then, at San Francisco on Nov. 20, Fisher helped lay to rest any fears that the old collapsible Seahawks would return. Down 27-19 with 8:31 remaining, the 49ers faced a third-and-17 on their own 12. They'd already scored one touchdown in the quarter and the Seahawks were getting anxious. But when Ken Dorsey dropped back, Fisher chased him out of the pocket, sacked him and forced a fumble. The Niners recovered, but Seattle would win the game. "Bryce is relentless, and it's infectious," says fullback Mack Strong. "He gives maximum effort every play."
Anything less wouldn't be worthy of the uniform.