The real thing

Alvin? Chipmunk. Bert? Muppet. Keyshawn will set things right for Bucs fans.

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By GARY SHELTON

© St. Petersburg Times, published August 4, 2000

TAMPA -- Three Bucs receivers walk into a bar.

Stop me if you've heard this one. Anyway, the first receiver thumps his chest once, then says nothing. The second thumps his chest twice, then says, "Ouch." The third thumps his chest three times, then says, "What? Do you think this is a joke?"

[Times photo: Toni L. Sandys] Bucs go-to receiver Keyshawn Johson: "I'm not a second receiver. I don't understand being a third option or a fourth option. That's not clear English to me. Maybe it is to (Harper or Emanuel)."

The thing about it is, for most of the decade, it has been. Despite the hope and the hype, the cooing and the wooing, the expenses and the expectations, the Bucs pretty much have fished a dry pond when it comes to free agency and wide receiver.

Tonight, the latest hope says hello.

Tonight, Keyshawn Johnson begins to make the laughter go away.

For the first time as a Buc, Johnson, fighting the flu, should take the field against the Redskins, a journey that history tells us takes a little courage. It is a position that has ruined reputations, swallowed careers and cut off a fingertip. It has been dropped balls and sulking players and, at the end, holding open the door to hasten the departure. It was Alvin and Bert, awful and hurt.

So, um, what makes us believe this time is going to be better?

Because it's Keyshawn, that's why. Because he simply will not allow it to be any other way. Because he's different. Because he's better.

Alvin and Bert? Bert and Alvin? Come on. Neither one of them -- not both of them put together -- equals Keyshawn Johnson. He's tougher, he has better hands and, most of all, he has a sheer passion for the game. For all the pursuit of Harper and Emanuel, for all the glee the franchise had when it signed each of them, neither player's name came up when you talked about the best receivers in the league. Johnson's does. Alvin may be Moe, and Bert may be Larry, but Keyshawn is not Curly. Got it?

"I'm different from them," he said. "You have to assess who you're dealing with, first of all. It was sad it didn't work out with them, but you have to understand, they're a long way from being me. I'm the complete package. I'm not a second receiver. I don't understand being a third option or a fourth option. That's not clear English to me. Maybe it is to them."

Still, there are people who will wonder about the team as much as the talent. The Bucs have been as unkind to their receivers as vice versa. They paid too much for them, then they asked too much of them. Both Harper and Emanuel had Trent Dilfer as a quarterback. Both were on lousy offenses. And, no, neither reached his expectations.

Start with Harper. When the Bucs outbid the league for him, it was a signal the payroll was going up. But that's about all it was. He was brought in to be a leader, the Hardy Nickerson of the offense. Instead, he whined and pouted and posed, and he became one more unstable part at an unstable time. Late one season, he threatened to retire because he wasn't catching passes, and you half expected the Bucs front office to rush out and get it in writing.

The pressures and the expectations were all too much for Harper. He had been the second wide receiver on the Cowboys -- and if you count Emmitt Smith and Jay Novacek, probably the fourth option for quarterback Troy Aikman -- during their glory years. But he was unable to handle the demands of being the No. 1 receiver on a bad team. The pressure folded him up, and when a Bucs trainer snipped the end of a finger off, the running gag was that it was okay, Harper didn't use his hands.

Ah, but Emanuel was going to be different. He was more stable off the field, and he wasn't being counted on to be the whole offense. The Bucs looked at Emanuel and saw a deep threat, someone who could make a defense pay for overcommitting with a play-action pass.

That never happened. The Bucs asked Emanuel to do things he wasn't used to doing, catching the ball on quick slants, blocking at the point of attack. Instead of noticing his strengths, suddenly it was about his shortcomings. The injuries began to pile up.

This should be said, too. Those in the locker room believe money changed Emanuel. There is a story about him throwing his helmet after a game because he didn't catch any balls ... even though the Bucs won.

Why did they fail? Partly because of who they were, partly because of the Bucs, partly because of altered roles.

Why is Johnson different? Partly because of who he is, partly because of the Bucs, partly because of an altered track record.

Johnson carries himself as a superstar. It is his self-image, and to be seen as anything less would be devastating to him. He has an uncommon passion for the game, which is more rare than it sounds.

Then, there is this: Everything the Bucs will ask Johnson to do, he has done. He has flourished with young quarterbacks. He has piled up numbers in run-oriented offenses. He makes players around him better.

"To me, that's what separates good players and great players," Johnson said. "Anyone can be good with a great offensive line and a superstar quarterback. But can you make people around you better?"

For the record, Johnson likes his new teammates. With the exception of Vinny Testaverde in '98, when he was a Pro Bowl player, Johnson compares Shaun King favorably with any quarterback with whom he has played. "He's as good as Neil O'Donnell, as good as Ray Lucas and better than Rick Mirer," he said.

No, Johnson might not catch 80 passes here. But he'll make his teammates better. He'll make the tough catch. He'll make you glad he's here.

And in the end, he'll make the laughter stop.

Just you watch.

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