Post by TheShadow on Dec 8, 2003 19:01:44 GMT -5
www.pressdemocrat.com
By Bob Padecky
PITTSBURGH
When Lincoln Kennedy said what he said Sunday, the frankness of his admission was too much for him to take. He hid his face, almost to where he stuck it in his locker. A moment later, he turned. His eyes were red. They had filled with tears.
"I'm pretty sure (about retiring after the season)," the Raiders' right tackle had just said. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
His body feels like one large toothache. It has been at least five years, probably longer, Kennedy said, since his last pain-free day. In the fourth quarter on Sunday, he suffered a concussion and had to be helped off the field. After the game, Kennedy jokingly asked a Steelers official for a ride in a golf cart to catch the Raiders' bus. He didn't walk, he took 6-inch steps. Why does he expose himself to such pain?
"I ask myself that every day," Kennedy said.
Because he loves football that much?
"At one time I did," he said.
Sunday's game certainly did not demand Kennedy sacrifice his body. Nothing new was revealed. The Raiders didn't have a sack, their return teams were a sieve, their offense a splotchy mess and their defense a paper tiger. And they didn't play like they loved Bill Callahan's offense any more than they ever have this season.
"The (Raiders) players don't believe the philosophy the head coach has," said Steelers running back Jerome Bettis. "It's obvious. You can hear it in the comments that were made (on the field)."
Add all this to a team diving like a peregrine falcon to a 3-10 record, Kennedy could have rested. Never for a moment did he think that. He wants to be in there every play, maxing out his talent, and the reason he gave might be of interest to teammates Phillip Buchanon and Charles Woodson, who didn't always press their pedals to the metal Sunday.
"When I leave the game, it's not going to be about what I did," Kennedy said. "It's going to be about how I did it. That's what people will remember. I want to be remembered as a tough player. Sure, it's a business with risk. And I know that each game I go out there now is going to make it that much harder on me in the future. Money is going to take you only so far."
His body, or what's left of it, will have to take him the rest of the way. After the game Sunday, Kennedy bent at the waist to pick something off a table and when he tried to right himself, he froze at a right angle for a second, unable to go up or down. The effort that eventually led to straighten himself could be seen in his clenched teeth. He doesn't want to end up a cripple, but he also has been loathe to give up the juice football provides.
"When you're out there, it's almost like you're numb, like you're not even there," Kennedy said.
Almost like traveling above the fray, not in it. The suffering had never been enough to force him to give up being a Zen offensive lineman. Until now. Now the stabbing pain, as Kennedy said, is "everywhere in my body," and it has slowed him to taking small steps usually seen by someone who uses a walker. The three-time Pro Bowler is only 33.
Kennedy will push his body three more times and, unless medical science can replace both shoulders, knees, ankles and feet, he will retire. And when he does, Kennedy will say all the pain football has caused him still will not equal the pain of his leaving it. It is the love of something that consumes, and if all the Raiders were as consumed as Lincoln Kennedy, they very likely wouldn't be 3-10 right now.
By Bob Padecky
PITTSBURGH
When Lincoln Kennedy said what he said Sunday, the frankness of his admission was too much for him to take. He hid his face, almost to where he stuck it in his locker. A moment later, he turned. His eyes were red. They had filled with tears.
"I'm pretty sure (about retiring after the season)," the Raiders' right tackle had just said. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
His body feels like one large toothache. It has been at least five years, probably longer, Kennedy said, since his last pain-free day. In the fourth quarter on Sunday, he suffered a concussion and had to be helped off the field. After the game, Kennedy jokingly asked a Steelers official for a ride in a golf cart to catch the Raiders' bus. He didn't walk, he took 6-inch steps. Why does he expose himself to such pain?
"I ask myself that every day," Kennedy said.
Because he loves football that much?
"At one time I did," he said.
Sunday's game certainly did not demand Kennedy sacrifice his body. Nothing new was revealed. The Raiders didn't have a sack, their return teams were a sieve, their offense a splotchy mess and their defense a paper tiger. And they didn't play like they loved Bill Callahan's offense any more than they ever have this season.
"The (Raiders) players don't believe the philosophy the head coach has," said Steelers running back Jerome Bettis. "It's obvious. You can hear it in the comments that were made (on the field)."
Add all this to a team diving like a peregrine falcon to a 3-10 record, Kennedy could have rested. Never for a moment did he think that. He wants to be in there every play, maxing out his talent, and the reason he gave might be of interest to teammates Phillip Buchanon and Charles Woodson, who didn't always press their pedals to the metal Sunday.
"When I leave the game, it's not going to be about what I did," Kennedy said. "It's going to be about how I did it. That's what people will remember. I want to be remembered as a tough player. Sure, it's a business with risk. And I know that each game I go out there now is going to make it that much harder on me in the future. Money is going to take you only so far."
His body, or what's left of it, will have to take him the rest of the way. After the game Sunday, Kennedy bent at the waist to pick something off a table and when he tried to right himself, he froze at a right angle for a second, unable to go up or down. The effort that eventually led to straighten himself could be seen in his clenched teeth. He doesn't want to end up a cripple, but he also has been loathe to give up the juice football provides.
"When you're out there, it's almost like you're numb, like you're not even there," Kennedy said.
Almost like traveling above the fray, not in it. The suffering had never been enough to force him to give up being a Zen offensive lineman. Until now. Now the stabbing pain, as Kennedy said, is "everywhere in my body," and it has slowed him to taking small steps usually seen by someone who uses a walker. The three-time Pro Bowler is only 33.
Kennedy will push his body three more times and, unless medical science can replace both shoulders, knees, ankles and feet, he will retire. And when he does, Kennedy will say all the pain football has caused him still will not equal the pain of his leaving it. It is the love of something that consumes, and if all the Raiders were as consumed as Lincoln Kennedy, they very likely wouldn't be 3-10 right now.