Kearse is new player in old story

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By GARY SHELTON

© St. Petersburg Times, published January 26, 2000

ATLANTA -- Two brothers. One of them runs free. The other is in a cage.

It is a story as old as Cain and Abel, and as common as good and evil. It is a story of diamonds and steel bars, of cut blocks and cell blocks, of the big show and the big house. One brother walks the straight and narrow; the other spends a lifetime straying from it.

Jevon Kearse sits at a podium, somewhere near the top of the world, and attempts to explain it. How does one brother resist the temptations of a bad environment and the other succumb? How does one find fame and fortune and the other problems and prison?

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Two brothers. One is No. 90. The other is No. 165539. One of them breaks records. The other has a record.

"I don't know how you explain it," Kearse said. "Maybe peer pressure. I don't know."

Kearse is at the Super Bowl now, and the crowds are stacked in front of him. MTV wants a sound bite. Comedy Central. Great Britain. And everyone else. He sits with his back to the football field, and you cannot help but notice him shine. There is a diamond cross around his neck, large enough to anchor a ship. There is a diamond bracelet on his wrist, diamond earrings in his ear. The jewelry reflects the light very much like his smile.

Already, some compare Kearse to the likes of Lawrence Taylor, teams want an explanation of why 15 players were picked in the draft ahead of him, tackles leave the night light on before playing him. Kearse is a force. He is "The Freak" or, this week, The Superfreak.

But if you really want to know about Kearse, you need to start with his brother. The one doing a 71/2-year stretch at the DeSoto Correctional Institute in Arcadia for armed robbery. It is only when compare the two you realize what a diamond Jevon really is.

Joseph Kearse Jr. was a good football player, too. According to Jevon, his older brother (by almost three years) was the better athlete. But a felony ended his high school career, and another sent him to prison.

"He was good enough to be here," Jevon said. "We should have been here together."

Two brothers. One with a ball, one with a gun. One causing trouble. The other seemingly addicted to it.

Jevon Kearse has terrorized quarterbacks around the NFL in his rookie year. [AP photo]

Some would have said Jevon was more likely to follow in J.J.'s footsteps than the other way around. Violence always was around the Kearse house. His father was shot and killed in a pool room before Jevon was born. A grandfather, a cousin, an uncle, all shot and killed. Jevon wears a tattoo dedicated to his half-brother, Jermaine "Rocky" Green, who was killed in a drive-by.

"I had a lot of obstacles to overcome," Jevon said Tuesday. "It made me a lot stronger, growing up like that. I had a lot to overcome. I had to grow up fast. I took it on myself to stay in my books and make something of myself.

"You control your own destiny. You can do what you set your mind to doing. I knew growing up with a single mom, I didn't want her to leave work to get me out of trouble. Peer pressure is always pulling and tugging on you. You have to take it on yourself to know right from wrong."

It isn't an easy lesson to learn. Three years ago, J.J. Kearse was pulled over by the police. He gave them Jevon's name instead of his. Jevon landed in jail until police sorted it out.

Hard to forget, hard to forgive. Jevon says he has. "He's trying to get his life turned around," Jevon said. "He's as big a celebrity in there (DeSoto) as I am out here."

Two brothers. One enters a Super Bowl as key. The other watches behind a lock. You figure it out.

As for the Rams, they're having a tough enough time trying to figure out the guy on the field. Kearse embarrassed them the first time the teams met. In particular, he left tackle Fred Miller feeling Kearsed. Miller was called for illegal procedure six times and once for holding against Kearse.

"He cheap-shotted me early, with his hands to my face," Kearse said. "I took things into my own hands. I think he was kind of rattled."

Miller says it was a tough day for him. "I went home, and my son still liked me, and my dogs still loved me," he said.

Such is the impression Kearse has made on the NFL. As a junior at Florida, when he paid scarce attention to the run, he was seen as something of a tweener by scouts. But he had 141/2 sacks during the regular season, a record for a rookie. People started talking about his 86-inch wing span and his 4.4 speed in the 40.

By the time Kearse arrived at the Super Bowl, he was a star. Someone asked him to name the Backstreet Boys. Someone else looked at his necklace and said: "I notice you're wearing a cross. What does it mean?"

Through it all, Kearse grinned and talked, faster and faster, the way he moves around the corner toward a quarterback. He seems to enjoy the stage. He is 23, and nothing can contain him.

"Hey, Freak," a teammate yells at him. "Can you rap?"

"I can wrap up a couple of quarterbacks out there," he said, laughing freely.

Two brothers. One spending much of his life doing time. The other having the time of his life.

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