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Former friend leaves St. Louis in the dust

By GARY SHELTON
Published January 16, 2005

ATLANTA - For a moment, for a wild, illogical moment, you might have sworn there was a streaker on the field.

How else would a man get this free, this open, this alone in the NFL playoffs? He ran like a man sprinting across a putting green, nothing but vast plots of green around him, nothing but the yard stripes themselves threatening to stop his journey.

It was the kind of hole a running back dreams of, pleads for, believes in. It was the kind of hole that makes him look as fast as ever, as young as yesterday and as missed as anyone by those who used to know him.

Once he slowed, you might have noticed there was something familiar about his pace. Same old flash, same old dash.

Yeah, he is still Warrick Dunn.

Yeah, he is still kinda fast.

Add together all of the holes he had in five seasons as a Buc, and they are not this wide. Stack up all of his bursts at FSU, and they are not much faster than this one. Multiply all of his big games, and they do not match what Dunn accomplished Saturday night.

For all the talk of how the playoffs were when Michael Vick really started to earn his money, it was Dunn who ran the Rams out of town Saturday night. He was a ghost, a magician. By the first quarter, he had the bulk of his 142 rushing yards. By the second quarter, he set a franchise single-game playoff rushing record.

By the third quarter, he had your hearts again.

Of all the players who have left One Buc in recent years, it was Dunn who was the hardest to see go. More than John Lynch, more than Warren Sapp, more than Keyshawn Johnson or Keenan McCardell, it was Dunn who had the most gas left in the tank.

He was the one who left a year too soon. Despite the silly amount of money he received, there was a wrongness to his departure on the eve of the Bucs' Super Bowl season.

With his gentle nature, with his generous heart, Dunn was always a popular Buc. For all the times Mike Shula ran him between the guards, for all the times Les Steckel seemed to forget he was on the roster, it seemed like a measure of injustice.

No more. Dunn has his own shot now. Next week, the Falcons will play either Philadelphia or Minnesota for the right to go to a Super Bowl. Another night or two such as this, and Dunn can take care of his own jewelry.

It's odd. The Bucs have disintegrated, but fate seems to make sure Tampa Bay has a rooting interest. There is Dunn, the Kid You Knew Somewhere. There is Rich McKay, the Falcons' general manager. You suffered with the Jets' Herm Edwards on Saturday, and you can pull for the Colts' Tony Dungy today. The Bucs haven't gone away; they've been spread by Johnny Appleseed.

Dunn is 30 now, and at one point this year, there were those wondered how long he had left. He had foot surgery in the off-season, and his legs were slow to come back. However, he has now gained more than 100 yards in his four of his past five games.

"The last few weeks, he is running better than I have ever seen him," said McKay, the man who could not afford to keep in him Tampa Bay. "This offense fits him. Maybe better than any offense he has had.

"No one is as quick at 30 as they were. But Warrick is more decisive. Some coaches used to get frustrated because he would wiggle too much in the hole. Now, he makes a quick cut and goes."

For Dunn, Saturday night's victory had to feel especially good. Did you see the grass between Dunn and the Rams on his 62-yard touchdown? On his 19-yarder? (He had a third touchdown, featuring his sweetest move of the night, called back because of a penalty.)

"In my years in Tampa Bay, I never had a really big playoff game," Dunn said. "This is huge."

In Tampa Bay, the saying used to be that the only thing smaller than Dunn was the holes he had to run through. Holes? The Bucs gave him a cracked door. They gave him broken windows. They gave him keyholes. Capture a firefly, and you put a bigger hole in the top of the jar.

This? This was the White House lawn. This was Central Park. Ask Dunn the last time he saw a hunk of grass like this, and he takes you back in time to 2001. Seventy yards, he said. "Against Dallas."

How good was Dunn against the Rams? He was good enough to make you ask yourself this: If one former Buc could return to town, who would you like it to be? Sapp? Lynch? McCardell?

Or would you like it to be Dunn, still blurry after all these years?

Think about it: If Dunn had not left, the Bucs never would have struggled for three years trying to convince themselves that Michael Pittman is an upper echelon running back. If Dunn had not left, the Bucs never would have thrown money at Charlie Garner. If Dunn had not left, the Bucs would not be debating the pros and cons of college running backs with nearly the volume.

Okay, okay. That hole has been effectively closed. Dunn isn't coming home.

He is, however, running forward, fast, free. Tampa Bay will have to watch his journey from a distance.

You know, like the Rams' defenders.

[Last modified January 16, 2005, 00:56:03]