By GARY SHELTON
© St. Petersburg Times, published December 24, 2000
Warrick Dunn is growing. Soon, the building may not hold him.
He is taller now than he was last week, and he was gigantic then compared to the week before that. In the past month, he has increased his standing so much that it is a wonder he has not grown out of his clothes, the way the Hulk does.
These days, Dunn is the Hulk. He is Goliath and Colossus and King Kong, all stacked together. He stands upright and he blocks out the sun. If he grows any larger he's going to need a blue ox.
That's what happens when you stop measuring a man in feet.
And when you start measuring him in feats.
These days, nobody is bigger than Dunn. Not when using the yardstick that really counts. No one is counted on more heavily and no one has hauled his team further than Dunn. You know, the back you've known since he was only this tall.
You want to size Dunn up? Try this. In the past four games, all critical victories, Dunn has gained 520 yards rushing (a pace that would give him 2,080 for a full season) and 171 yards receiving. He has scored seven touchdowns and has 12 plays of 20 yards or more. He has gained 60 percent of the Bucs' yardage. He has made key play after key play, clutch receptions and long runs and vaults into the end zone.
He is 5-8, 180. And he is a giant.
Do you still think of Dunn as a third-down specialist? Do you still think he's too small?
"The last month," quarterback Shaun King said, "he's Shaq-sized."
"He's a power forward, at least," coach Tony Dungy said.
You repeat the comments to Dunn, and he flashes a quick smile that comes and goes as fast as, well, he does. Dunn has a small mouth and a whisper of a voice, perhaps because neither has been stretched out by fashioning his own adjectives. He still looks like the world's little brother, so small that one day, you fear, a linebacker simply may break him. But Dunn has never shared in any of the doubts that have come his way.
"I can play this game," he says simply, accenting each word. "Ask anyone who has played with me, and they'll tell you. I can play this game."
These, then, are the days for which Dunn has longed. Once more, he is the crucial player in crucial games. Once more, the eyes of his teammates are on him, pleading for him to do something special.
It will be that way in Green Bay today. Yeah, yeah. There are snowflakes in Wisconsin that are bigger than Dunn. It doesn't matter. If the Bucs offense is to do anything today, odds are it will be Dunn leading the way. The rest of the players have become his supporting cast.
"I'm just comfortable," Dunn said. "I'm having fun. I'm able to get into a rhythm, and when you do that, good things are going to happen."
Oh, how he has burned for a month like this. To Dunn, every four-game segment of his career could have been like the past month, had the team only given him the ball.
He ran for 978 his first season, 1,026 his second. But he slid to 616 yards and no rushing touchdowns a year ago. Halfway through this season, Dunn had only 366 yards, and he never seemed to touch the ball in critical situations, and team executives had begun to talk openly about how much sense drafting a running back next spring would make.
That all changed against Chicago, when Mike Alstott sprained his knee. Alstott is commonly thought of as a fullback, especially by Pro Bowl voters, but in recent seasons, he and Dunn have split the running back duties. With Alstott out, the entire load went to Dunn, who has flourished with the extra carries.
"He's carried us," Dungy said.
The more you have seen of Dunn, the harder it has been to remember the days when then-offensive coordinator Mike Shula would send him between the tackles, time after time, and Dunn would run as if he were determined to show just how tough he was.
"It was frustrating," Dunn said. "You never feel like you're being used properly. You watch other guys on other teams go out and do some things, and you know you have the skills to be doing it. But we were winning. It wouldn't have been right to go in and say that I should be able to do this or that. I never went to Shula."
What Dunn did, however, was work the flanks. After games, he would approach Lauren Dungy, Tony's wife.
"He'd go up to her and say, "I think your husband is worried I'm going to get hurt. Tell him I'm all right,' " Dungy said, chuckling softly. "Or he'd say "Tell him I can get the ball in from the 5-yard line.' And she'd tell me."
Still, it didn't seem to matter. Until Chicago. Until Alstott went down. Until Dunn fumbled.
The Bucs were a mess after that game. So was Dunn, who had a late fumble when the team was driving. "I killed the team," Dunn said. "I killed our momentum. I won't forget that."
Since then, he has brought it back to life. He ran for 106 against Buffalo, an excellent run defense. He burned Dallas for 210 yards. He made a key 45-yard reception against Miami. And he hurdled in against the Rams for the winning points.
Now does anyone think the Bucs are in dire need of a running back?
Oh, Dunn knows. The questions never go away completely. Not about his size, not about his durability.
"I don't want to be called a fluke," Dunn said. "I don't want to be a one-game wonder or a one-year wonder. I want to be able to do this over a length of time."
Dunn looks at you. Slowly, so you understand, he repeats himself. "I can play this game."
Yes, he can.
More than a little.