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He's having a ball

By GARY SHELTON
Published January 22, 2006

DENVER - When his journey seemed complete, John Lynch decided he would go a few more miles. Lovely territory, don't you think?

When his story appeared finished, Lynch decided he would write an epilogue. Nice plot twist, isn't it?

When it seemed that sport had given him enough, and vice versa, Lynch decided he wanted a little more. And, really, what in life is better than more?

Welcome to the dessert portion of Lynch's career, a tale of a player, scarred and scorned, who finds extended dreams and unpromised pleasures and a garbage heap that looks a lot like a mountaintop.

Look at him, grinning and giggling over all Colorado. Lynch is a kid again, bouncing off the walls, driving his family crazy with his energy. He talks a little too fast, sometimes a little too loud, drinking in the unexpected nature of the moment as if he never expected to taste it again. And why should he have?

Now, he is deliriously happy.

Before, he was desperately miserable.

The emotions are not as separate as you think. For an athlete, today's pleasure and yesterday's pain often travel together, one feeding off the other. There is a certain sweetness that comes with redemption, a particular satisfaction that comes with a man proving he can compete after his old team has decided he cannot. That's the tricky part of reincarnation; to get there, first you have to die. Sometimes there is suffering and anger and a feeling of betrayal.

In other words, to fully understand how much today's AFC Championship Game means to Lynch, you have to measure it against what he was feeling two winters ago when the Bucs, the team he had helped redefine, told Lynch he was finished in a clumsy, cold manner that still sticks in the craw of many in Tampa Bay. Lynch's, too.

"It was hard," Lynch said. "It was so emotional. I felt like I had invested so much in that team, and to have an organization tell you it doesn't need you anymore ... that's difficult."

Even now there is a catch in Lynch's voice as he talks about his departure. Yeah, it still burns. Of course it does.

At the time, Lynch admits he wondered about his future, too. The 2003 season had been a tough one for him. There had been the recurring neck injury, which kept him in and out of the lineup, which kept his play up and down. For a man who played the game like a wrecking ball, it seemed as if the bill had finally come due.

"I'll be honest," Lynch said quietly. "There were times I thought I was done. Not so much because of the way I was playing, but the way my body was reacting. That last year was so terrible. There was a time I thought, "My body has given me 11 or 12 years. I've had a great career. I've been on a championship team and I've been to some Pro Bowls.' I remember having those thoughts."

Lynch remembers getting a lift when the doctors looked at the X-rays and decided they could fix his neck. Still, he said, the doubts lingered through the offseason, even after he signed with Denver, even through training camp. Then came the team's first game, and Lynch's next big hit. "I thought, "I'm going to be all right,' " he said.

And he has. Since leaving the Bucs, Lynch, 34, has made two Pro Bowls (seven in all) and reached the playoffs in both seasons. For a guy who didn't like his departure, yeah, things have worked out pretty well.

"I'm having the most fun I've ever had playing football," Lynch said. "I have a greater appreciation for what I'm doing. It was hard to realize at the time, but I've always said that things happen for a reason. A lot of good has come from my coming to Denver. I've been re-energized."

Also, Lynch has traveled familiar ground. Today's game against the Steelers is his third conference title game. If you remember, big games have a way of fouling Lynch's mood.

Remember the 1999 season, when Lynch took the podium before the Rams game? Few thought the Bucs could slow the St. Louis offense, and minutes before, Rams receiver Isaac Bruce told reporters the Bucs secondary was "just average." Lynch was so angry the lectern shook as he gripped it.

Remember the 2002 season, when the Bucs were playing Oakland in the Super Bowl, and everyone kept asking Lynch how he hoped to compete against the Raiders offense. "We have impact players, too," Lynch said in a voice cold enough to cause icicles.

Now it is 2006, and for every ounce that Jerome Bettis weighs, Lynch has been asked a question. Yeah, yeah. Tackling Bettis is like a man trying to move a wardrobe by himself. It's like a lumberjack trying to catch a falling tree. And so on.

"It's always the same," Lynch said, laughing. "It's always personal."

The truth of it is, a collision is coming. Few backs weigh as much as the 255-pound Bettis, and few safeties hit as hard as Lynch. Put it this way: The Broncos count Lynch's career tackles (an unofficial NFL statistic) at 1,118. Of those, Lynch estimates about 750 have come in the box.

In other words, stay tuned.

Give him a minute, and Lynch lapses into stories about the old days, about Tony Dungy and Jon Gruden, about Warren Sapp and Derrick Brooks, about Ronde Barber and Mike Alstott, about Brad Johnson and Joe Jurevicius. I ask him if there should be an award for the Last Buc Standing, perhaps a trophy with a pink slip on top of it.

Lynch laughs, and it sounds a lot like it used to sound. Maybe better. Nothing like a man told he was heading for his golden years, and instead squeezing out a few more golden days. Lynch has a chance at a second helping of Super Bowl.

For the Bucs, well, there is a lesson:

Be careful when you put a thoroughbred out to pasture. Eventually you might see him in the Kentucky Derby.

[Last modified January 22, 2006, 01:02:19]