No one in the NFL studies film like Terrell Suggs. The 22-year-old's life revolves around the time he spends in front of his 52-inch plasma TV, breaking down one film after another. Not surprisingly, Suggs has developed a critical eye for imperfection and an appreciation for greatness. "Pacino," he says when asked to name those he admires. "De Niro, Denzel, Samuel L. I probably have more than 1,000 DVDs. There's a game called Scene It. It tests movie knowledge. I dog that game."
Sure, Suggs admits a fellow Ravens linebacker named Ray Lewis has taught him a thing or two about studying another kind of film. And, yeah, those things helped transform Suggs from a pass rush-only rookie in 2003 to the every-down Pro Bowl linebacker he became this past season.
But the kid known to friends and teammates as T-Sizzle is talking about the movies now. And T-Siz is serious. At the suburban home in Owings Mills, Md., that Suggs shares during the season with his cousins Rico Suggs, Quinton Ward and Daniel Pryor--"Not a posse, not an entourage," Suggs says, "just family"--the quartet rarely go a day without watching a flick. Then they critique the film for entertainment and artistic merit and plan for the day when they will make movies of their own. "I'm going to get into acting," Suggs says. "I've got big plans."
He figures he'll get his start in sports movies, like Any Given Sunday, a Suggs favorite that happens to feature one of his heroes, Lawrence Taylor. "Then I'd like to do action-comedy," he says, pausing dramatically as he considers the possibilities. "Definitely. Action-comedy."
Obviously, these are the dreams of a naïve kid. Innocent as can be. "He's a big puppy," says Jeff FitzGerald, linebackers coach for the Ravens. Then again, watching Suggs on, well, any given Sunday last season was almost like seeing a real, live action-comedy hero at work.
Consider the Dec. 5 game against the Bengals, which the Ravens lost 27-26. On one play, Suggs lined up as a defensive end, exploded out of a threepoint stance and speed-rushed Carson Palmer, forcing him to hurry his throw. On another down, he stalked around behind the defensive line, found a lane to blitz through, then leveled Palmer for a nine-yard loss. That's action in its highest form. And the comedy? Upon completion of each sack last season (he finished with a team-high 10.5), Suggs broke out a new dance, and, honestly, his footwork is more SNL than TRL. A shimmy, a shuffle, maybe a shake. If it weren't so funny, it would almost seem risqué. "I love the hip-hop movie You Got Served," Suggs says with a grin. "I'm just not quite agile enough for moves like head-spins."
He's more than agile enough, though, to be considered the latest in the ever-lengthening line of Baltimore's defensive playmakers. The list of Ravens invited to Hawaii reads like a team roll call. There's Lewis, whom Suggs calls "the greatest defensive player ever." There's cornerback Chris McAlister, whose one interception in 2004 is an indication of how much quarterbacks fear him. There's Ed Reed, who last season seemed to have the ball in his hands as often as Baltimore's wideouts. And then there's Suggs, who earned Defensive Rookie of the Year honors in 2003 while playing an average of just 15 downs per game. "Probably the coolest thing about the Pro Bowl experience," Suggs says, "was having guys from my conference walk up to me and tell me they're watching me, and that I belonged there."
Of course, anyone who saw Suggs set an NCAA record with 24 sacks as a junior at Arizona State might have guessed that he belonged in Hawaii. But to T-Siz, all forms of encouragement feel like vindication. He still can't quite get over the fact that he dropped from a surefire top-three pick in 2003 because he ran a sluggish 4.8 40 during a predraft workout. "I know they like to have passrushers running 4.6 or better," says Suggs, who claims he put on weight just before the workout. "I didn't run a good 40, but my answer to that has always been that I don't have to run 40 yards to sack the quarterback."
Suggs didn't know at the time how lucky he was about to get. Soon after the stopwatches ceased clicking, Phil Savage, Baltimore's player personnel director at the time, told Ravens GM Ozzie Newsome that the team's next great defensive playmaker was about to fall into their laps. Sure enough, Suggs was still available when the Ravens came on the clock with the 10th pick overall. He led the team with 12 sacks that season, proving, he says now, "that I play a lot faster than what my 40-time showed."
But it wasn't just a perceived lack of speed that scared teams off. In 2003, Suggs was a 20-year-old kid set to become the sixth-youngest player drafted since the NFL-AFL merger in 1970. He was also someone who grew up in Chandler, Ariz., and went to college just down the road in Tempe. He'd never been away from home, and there was concern (not least in the Cardinals' draft war room) that Suggs would need a lot of baby-sitting.
The Ravens, though, are much less concerned with keeping young hotshots in line than are other teams. For good reason. Waiting for Suggs, who held out during his first two days of training camp, was Lewis, the pledgemaster of Baltimore's D. At the end of Suggs' first day of practice, as he was doing a live interview for a local TV station, Lewis smashed a cherry pie into the rookie's face. On another day in camp, before a scrimmage, Suggs couldn't find his jersey and was forced to play without a number. Lewis was the prime suspect. "He was probably a little more sensitive about it than most guys," says Ravens defensive end Anthony Weaver. "He got pretty quiet. But all of us have learned from Ray. We're all humbled by him."
Suggs was also humbled by the pro game. He was asked initially to switch from defensive end to linebacker and, as a first-rounder, he was expected to crack the starting lineup on one of the league's toughest D's. But it didn't take long for Suggs to realize that he wasn't ready to be an every-down player. He didn't shed blocks well. His recognition of running plays was practically nonexistent. And despite his size (6'3'', 265 pounds), he didn't have exceptional lower-body strength. "In college, I was basically told to go and get the quarterback," he says. "As an NFL linebacker, I had a lot to learn."
The Ravens understood this. And rather than stunt their prize rookie's growth by going to extremes--throwing him onto the field because he was a No. 1 pick or benching him for his lack of progress--his coaches decided to bolster Suggs' confidence by playing him at his old college position. "The best thing to do was get him in the third-down package, let him put his hand on the ground and have some success on game day," says FitzGerald. "He could learn about the position in practice."
Even as Suggs struggled, his coaches were encouraged by his maturity. Suggs ultimately accepted Lewis' hazing as a rite of passage. And he understood that any success he had on Sundays was not necessarily a reflection of his development as a player. "Every fan loves a sack," Suggs says. "As a defensive player, it's your moment in the spotlight. But I'm also really critical. I question myself. What did I do wrong today? It can take me a while to get over it. I'll start wondering if I'm really good enough."
After the Ravens' 2003 playoff loss to the Titans, Suggs, who was starting just his second game in place of the injured Peter Boulware, put the blame on himself. He admitted he didn't know the defense, which made it easy for Steve McNair to take advantage of him. He decided then that he was not going to be satisfied in a part-time role. So in his first professional off-season, Suggs did two things to transform his game.
First, he began working out with trainer Jay Schroeder, who also tutors Rams safety Adam Archuleta, Suggs' teammate at ASU. Schroeder helped Suggs trim down from 265 to 257 by teaching him to eat smarter and lift harder. Now Suggs was fit enough to play an entire game. Second, Suggs called Lewis. "Ray made me a student of the game," Suggs says. "He'd tell me about the differences in quarterbacks, who to go after and who to contain. Or he'd remind me what to look for when studying film. Basically, he taught me how to read NFL football."
Meanwhile, Lewis took every opportunity to encourage Suggs. In February of 2004, the future Hall of Famer began to call his protégé weekly, telling Suggs how much the defense needed him, motivating him with promises of bigger things to come. "That young kid is willing to learn," Lewis says. "You find a lot of people who are talented and leave it at that. But it's another thing to want not just to be a great pass-rusher, but a great outside linebacker." Suggs appreciated his mentor's nagging. "He wanted to make sure I wasn't getting lazy," Suggs says. "But there was no way. I was too anxious to play fulltime with this defense."
When Boulware was slow to recover from offseason knee surgery in 2004--he ended up missing the entire season--Suggs got his chance. He started every game for the Ravens' sixth-ranked D. He learned how to make plays while moving laterally in pass coverage, not just by rushing the QB. He started adjusting to the offense's formation and not just running the defensive play that Lewis called. "I faced him twice his rookie year, and I think he understood the scheme more last season," says Bills coach Mike Mularkey, whose team gave up two sacks to Suggs in a 20-6 Oct. 24 loss. "He's grown up and I think he's confident. He's a guy you've got to be aware of, wherever he's at."
Emboldened by his success last season, Suggs wants to be everywhere. Which is why, a week after the Pro Bowl, he was back home in Tempe, already working out with Schroeder. "I've got a young body," Suggs says. "I see guys hobbling around, trying to get themselves ready. Not me. I'm fresh."
With every rep, he remembers the disappointing 9—7 finish that left Baltimore out of the playoffs.
"That won't leave my mind," says Suggs. "There was a long time between the end of the season and the Pro Bowl. Too many games to watch on TV. I want to go to the Pro Bowl again next year, but what I really want is to go there straight from the Super Bowl."
Talk about a Hollywood ending.