Fortune favors Chidi

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© St. Petersburg Times
published January 29, 2002

Sometimes, the sweetness is best savored alone.

Chidi Ahanotu sat alone at his locker, keeping the celebration around him at a distance. This was his moment. The feelings he felt, and the journey that brought them, belonged to him alone.

He leaned back in his chair, so far he was almost reclining. His long dreadlocks dangled toward the floor, and his face was turned toward the sky like a man allowing a gentle waterfall to wash over him. The game only had been over for a few moments, but already it seemed as if Ahanotu had tuned it out. His eyes were closed. His face was peaceful.

Hey, you say to him.

Know anybody going to the Super Bowl?

The smile began then, slowly piercing the numbness Ahanotu had felt since the final moments of the Rams' victory Sunday in the NFC title game. He opened his eyes and stood. And then he said the darndest thing.

"This story," he said, "is written in the sky."

The best stories often seem that way, as if destiny has decided to replace bitter with sweet. The best stories are about rebirth, about losing something precious and regaining it. The best stories are about a journey to nowhere and back, about a soul somehow finding itself along the way.

This story is about Ahanotu, no longer a Buc and, for the most part, no longer bitter about it.

And the best part is that it isn't finished, after all.

Seven months ago, it seemed that way. For all anyone cared, Ahanotu was done. He had been released by the Bucs, and the teams that seemed interested in him were distinctly different from the teams he was interested in. He grew comfortable with the idea that he was an ex-player.

"I was at peace," he said. "I was ready to sit down. I thought I might try again in another year. Maybe I wouldn't."

Ahanotu stopped, as if to consider a journey from being out on the street to reaching Bourbon Street. He was in exile, and now he has returned. Ahanotu shook his head. He wiped a tear.

In some ways, it all began to unravel for Ahanotu, and for the Bucs, a couple of hundred yards away, in the visitor's locker room. Two years earlier, Ahanotu had walked off the same field angry. He had finally had enough of the lack of support from the Bucs offense, and he said so.

Looking back, Ahanotu says now, the Bucs have not been the same since that defeat. Hardy Nickerson didn't return. Brad Culpepper didn't return. The level of play of Ahanotu didn't return, either.

Over the 2000 season, Ahanotu was not the same player. He had a rotten season, he admits. He says Bucs general manager Rich McKay told him the team was willing to write it off as a bad year, but following the first-round loss to the Eagles in the playoffs, Ahanotu had had enough.

"I asked them to trade me," he said. "I had had enough of the guys on that team. Keyshawn (Johnson) knows the feeling. It isn't a good situation. There is a lot of jealousy and animosity by certain people wearing No. 99."

Yes, the friction is still there. Once linemates, Warren Sapp and Ahanotu didn't care much for each other. Give him a chance, and Ahanotu will let you know about it. He cannot seem to stop himself.

"I couldn't exist another year with him," Ahanotu said.

The Bucs, unable to trade Ahanotu, released him just before the draft. Cincinnati called him the same day. No thanks, Ahanotu said.

"That would be like starting over," he said. "It would be like going back to the days of Bucco Bruce."

For a while, Miami was interested. That made sense, geographically. Ahanotu was in a custody fight at the time, and he wanted to stay close to his children. But Miami kept talking about which players Ahanotu was going to back up. No, Ahanotu said. He was a starter.

Then Lovie Smith, the former Bucs assistant and now Rams defensive coordinator, called and asked him to join St. Louis. Ahanotu said he'd love to go. But he couldn't. A couple of weeks later, after Cedric Jones was injured, Smith called again. Ahanotu said no. But his personal life began to clear up. The third time Smith called, Ahanotu said yes.

The truth of it is that Ahanotu still isn't as good a player as he was in 1999 and before. He doesn't drive the bus for the Rams; he's just another passenger. But Ahanotu is happier. Had he stayed with the Bucs, he would have made $7-million this season. Instead, he makes $600,000. He says the difference is worth every penny.

"This is better than money," he said. "I feel like a rookie again. I've been rejuvenated." And speaking of starting over, Ahanotu will wed his longtime girlfriend, the mother of his two children, next year.

Oh, if you are wondering about the history of ex-Bucs and the Super Bowl, well, it has occurred to Ahanotu as well.

"I said when I got my walking papers that being cut by the Bucs meant I was going to win a Super Bowl," he said. "I feel bad for John Lynch and Derrick Brooks. I hope the Bucs let them go, too."

He grinned. Winning allows that, of course. There is no pulpit quite like success. Nothing else is quite as good at drowning out those who doubted, those who disagreed. To be honest, there is a little of that going on here. Ahanotu is last-laughing.

In another way, however, Ahanotu is a man who has learned to appreciate his days. There is a certain sweetness to unexpected success. These are games he never counted on, moments on the other side of expectations. Hey, the guy lost a lot of sweat in the name of the Bucs. Now he has a chance to win a ring. It's hard not to feel good for him.

"We're going to win," Ahanotu said. "I don't know what the score will be, but we're going to win. I told you, someone up there is writing this story. It wouldn't be a good ending if we didn't win."

That's the thing about stories written in the sky.

The best ones always wind up with the stars.

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