Junior Seau Read online

  “It was amazing to see because at the start of his career he had all these insecurities about, ‘Am I good enough? Can I play?’ People thought he was brash. But now he had morphed into someone who was beloved. That emotion was as real as it gets.”

  Two days later Junior’s growing maturity and comfort level with the organization came through in another journal entry. Grossman was expected to miss the game because of injury, and the coaches phoned Junior on his off day to see if he’d be comfortable playing along the line in passing situations. He wrote:

  I told them that I’ll play D-line but don’t take me out of the 46 [blitz] package entirely. Their response was respectable in this sense: The coaches showed some respect toward me as a person and player. “It would be easier if we had two of you,” they said.

  He continued:

  I’ve grown into a student of the game of football. Playing with rare ability and talent, I’ve gotten through hard times in the past. But this year I truly understand our schemes, and I’m aware of what my teammates are doing. Before, my reads were derived from film work and I would do anything to get the man with the ball—even though my responsibility was to do something else. The difference this year is that I don’t have to put out or waste energy because I know our schemes. I can account for my players and know where to stunt them, then run to the void area.

  As he sat there writing, Junior reflected on his struggles over the previous two seasons, when he fought with the coaches about being moved from outside linebacker to inside linebacker.

  When I asked God, “Why are they taking me out of the pass rush and putting me in the secondary,” HE answered my question. I’m thankful. I’ve learned so much about the structure of the defense and offenses, but the exciting part of all this is, I have a lot to learn and do before I can say I DID IT!

  Linebackers coach John Fox learned this early in the 1992 season, his first with the Chargers. Fox can’t recall the specific month, the exact opponent, or the precise point in the game. But he’ll never forget the play.

  Junior was supposed to drop into pass coverage and protect against a hook route or crossing route. But at the snap of the ball he took off toward the line of scrimmage, burst past blockers, and sacked the quarterback to force a punt.

  When he got to the sideline, Fox greeted him with one question: “What in the world are you doing?”

  “Making a play, Coach,” Junior said.

  “He was serious as a heart attack,” Fox said. “He didn’t make an excuse or give me some bullshit. He just said, ‘Making a play, Coach.’ There are guys who can diagram it on the board and tell you what everybody is doing. Then there are guys that probably can’t put it on the board like that, probably can’t explain it like that, but instinctively they know what to do. Junior was both.”

  The visitors’ coaching booth in Oakland is separated from the press box by a relatively thin piece of Plexiglas and vertical blinds. When the Chargers played there in Junior’s first two seasons, the media regularly heard defensive coordinator Ron Lynn go ballistic during games. “Junior! Junior! What the fuck are you doing?!” he’d yell at the start of a play. “What the fuck are you doing?! Junior! Junior!”

  In the next breath they’d hear: “Fucking great play, Junior! You lucky son of a bitch.”

  It was like the basketball coach who yells, “NO! NO! NO!” as a shooter launches a three-pointer, then claps and quietly says, “Yes!” when the ball swishes through the net.

  Junior trusted his instincts and his ability to make a play more than he did the call being sent in by the coordinator. It’s no coincidence that the Chargers started to come into their own just as Junior was doing the same on the field. Despite the horrible start to the 1992 season, they won 11 of their final 12 games—including the last seven—to claim their first division title in a nonstrike year since 1981. They also became the only team in league history to reach the playoffs after a 0–4 start, ending the AFC’s longest active postseason drought at nine years.

  Junior’s intensity helped fuel the streak just as his playfulness helped create a family atmosphere in the locker room. He loved to prank teammates, with Grossman being a primary target. The two had become close friends since their tense initial meeting before Junior was drafted. They roomed together for two years on the road and in training camp, and Junior was the best man at two of Grossman’s weddings. Very little was off-limits between the two, so Junior didn’t hesitate to pounce when a gotcha opportunity presented itself. One such occasion involved Grossman’s mail.

  “They used to intercept Burt’s mail, and in doing so they ran across one fan who had a big crush on Burt,” a teammate recalled. “Junior’s idea was to respond back as if they were Burt. Then each week they’d intercept the mail to see what the fan’s response was. Well, Burt had no idea that any of this was going on. The reason this was so wild was because the person who was writing Burt and who had the crush on Burt was a male.

  “One day the guys decided to take it to the next level and set up a meeting with the fan, because the fan was like, ‘Hey, I want to meet you.’ They were like, ‘Sure, no problem. I’ll be at this place at this time. I look forward to meeting you.’ The guy actually showed up and was like, ‘Burt, Burt . . . ,’ and Burt’s wondering what the hell was going on. The fan was like, ‘Thanks for taking the time to meet me,’ and Burt was like, ‘What the hell are you talking about? I don’t even know you!’”

  Burt soon figured out that he was the victim of a practical joke, and that the likely culprit was Junior. He was angry, to say the least.

  “The guy was gay, and Junior sent him flowers in my name,” Grossman recalled. “Junior was a character.”

  Grossman tried to pull the same prank on Junior, but it failed to work because the element of surprise was gone.

  “He got this tag that he was dumb because of Prop 48 and stuff,” Grossman said. “But Junior was probably one of the smartest people I’ve met. Not so much book-wise or even your vocabulary, because he was notorious for butchering words and using them in the wrong place. But in terms of common sense and reading people, he was a really, really bright guy. So pulling practical jokes on him or things like that, it was really hard to get over on him.”

  Junior’s fingerprints were prominent on the late-season win streak as well as the joke on Grossman. With the Chargers trailing early in the fourth quarter against the Cardinals, he forced a fumble that San Diego quickly converted into the decisive touchdown in a 27–21 victory. Two weeks later, with a chance to claim the division title with a win, the Chargers seemed to be prepared to make things more interesting than necessary.

  They were dominant through two-plus quarters, building a 23–0 lead that seemed insurmountable. Then Los Angeles replaced ineffective quarterback Jay Schroeder with veteran Vince Evans, who sparked the Raiders with a 21-yard touchdown pass. The Chargers weren’t in danger, but when they punted on their next series, momentum appeared to be shifting sides. Another touchdown could have made for an interesting fourth quarter. But Junior would have none of it. On third-and-18 from the Los Angeles 16-yard line, he picked off Evans’s pass and returned it 29 yards to the Raiders’ 3-yard line. Two plays later Eric Bieniemy rushed in from the 1, and the Chargers went on to win 36–14.

  Junior, who also had a sack in the game, was ecstatic. He was playing well, and the team was on its way to the playoffs for the first time in a decade. It was no coincidence that the defense began to excel at the same time that he began to dominate. The unit allowed only one opponent to score more than 14 points over the final seven games, after allowing six teams to do so in the first nine games.

  With every big play he made, with every powerful thrust of his right fist into the air, San Diego fans fell harder and deeper for him. The franchise always had been known for its offensive stars—from Paul Lowe to Lance Alworth to Dan Fouts to Kellen Winslow to John Jefferson to Chuck Muncie. But Junior was the first defensive player with the skill and flair to stand on hall
owed ground with them. Despite being in only his third season, he had become the face of the franchise as it prepared to meet Kansas City in the opening round of the playoffs.

  The Chiefs had beaten them twice during the season and six straight times overall, so to outsiders it appeared to be a horrible matchup. The Chargers saw it differently. To them, it was the perfect opportunity for payback. The front office also had added incentive entering the game. Beathard didn’t like it that his KC counterpart, Carl Peterson, had privately accused San Diego of signing former Chiefs tight end Alfred Pupunu early that year for strategic purposes. The story was that the Chargers wanted Pupunu only so he could debrief them on KC’s offensive playbook and adjustment calls.

  The buildup to the game was intense, just like the hitting in the first half. The defenses dominated, with the Chargers gaining just 130 net yards of offense to the Chiefs’ 122. The Chargers punted three times, the Chiefs four times. There was the sense that the first big play could decide the outcome, which proved to be true when halfback Marion Butts burst free for a 54-yard touchdown on the Chargers’ second possession of the third quarter. It would be all the points San Diego needed in a 17–0 victory that represented the first postseason shutout in franchise history (13 games).

  As the final moments ticked off the clock in San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium, the PA system blared the disco-themed “San Diego Super Chargers” song, which hadn’t been heard since the glory days of Don Coryell, Dan Fouts, Kellen Winslow, Charlie Joiner, and Chuck Muncie. The chorus spoke to the team’s performance that day, as Leslie O’Neal, the Chargers’ standout edge rusher, finished with two sacks and an interception and led a defense that forced three turnovers and had seven sacks—six in the second half.

  The next week they learned what it was like to be on the other end of the whipping stick as the Dolphins spanked them 31–0 in Miami. The Chargers were never in the game. Humphries, who had been so solid late in the year, threw three interceptions, each of which set up a Dolphins touchdown. Defensively, the Chargers surrendered three second-quarter scoring passes to Dan Marino and, overall, allowed the Dolphins to run for 157 yards and a touchdown on 40 carries.

  “For the city of San Diego, we wish we could take [a victory] back home,” Junior said afterward. “But it’s obviously not meant to be.”

  Later, he took out a full-page ad in the local newspaper to thank the fans, whom he had won over with his aggressive playmaking on the field and his gentle compassion off it.

  8

  Super Fold

  WEEK 1 is special in the NFL. Each team is undefeated, there’s an air of optimism in every locker room, and winter has yet to put a death grip on parts of the Midwest and Northeast. Hope can fade quickly, though, especially when you’re coming off a disappointing season, are picked to finish last in the division, and fall behind 17–0 in the first quarter of the season opener—in a city where you’ve lost seven straight games against an opponent who has won five consecutive home openers.

  In 1994 that was precisely the situation the Chargers found themselves in with 10 minutes, 34 seconds, gone at Denver. They went three-and-out on their first offensive possession, shanked the ensuing punt for a net gain of only 13 yards, then surrendered a 50-yard touchdown pass to trail by a touchdown.

  They ran four plays on their second possession, punted, and then allowed completions of 10, 18, and 13 yards that were complemented by runs of 17 and 22 yards, the last for another touchdown. As if that weren’t bad enough, they fumbled away the ensuing kickoff to set up a field goal.

  Suddenly their 11 wins in 12 games and playoff victory over the Chiefs in 1992 became an even more distant memory (after a lackluster 1993 season), replaced by images of the 10 consecutive years without a winning record in nonstrike seasons. Same old Chargers, many fans thought to themselves.

  That’s when Humphries, their quarterback with the strong right arm and portly middle, found tight end Alfred Pupunu for a 22-yard touchdown at the end of the first quarter . . . and Shawn Jefferson for a 47-yard score early in the second quarter . . . and Mark Seay for a 29-yard touchdown one minute and 45 seconds later. A rout was suddenly a game, and when safety Stanley Richard returned an interception 99 yards on the final play of the half, San Diego had its first lead, 27–24.

  Even when quarterback John Elway, owner of 34 come-from-behind wins in the fourth quarter or overtime, drove the Broncos from their 25-yard line to the San Diego 3 with 43 seconds to play and Denver trailing by three, the Chargers refused to blink. Elway rolled right, cocked his cannonlike right arm, and then . . . inexplicably . . . had the ball slip from his hand as he prepared to release it.

  Junior snatched it from the nighttime air to preserve a 37–34 victory that would set the tone for the greatest season in franchise history. When the play was over, he high-kneed his way to the San Diego sideline, where he hugged and high-fived his teammates.

  “I saw a bright star,” said Junior, who had a game-high 14 tackles. “It was a ball twirling in the air.”

  The surrealism of that night didn’t end with the game. It continued for six weeks, with the Chargers knocking down anyone who got in their way. Broncos . . . Bengals . . . Seahawks . . . Raiders . . . Chiefs . . . Saints—they all fell. The Chargers’ 6–0 record matched the best start in franchise history, equaling the mark that was set in 1961, the team’s first year in San Diego after one season in Los Angeles.

  The most impressive thing about their success was their ability to triumph in different ways. They won with offense, scoring 37 against the Broncos, 36 against the Saints, and 35 against the Seahawks. They won with defense, limiting Cincinnati and Seattle to 10 points each and Kansas City to six. They also won with special teams, beating the Raiders on a 33-yard field goal with two seconds to play.

  The idea of Junior raising his game seemed ridiculous entering the season, in that he had gone to the previous three Pro Bowls. But as his understanding of how opponents might attack him caught up to his physical abilities he became a nearly unstoppable force. He had 13 tackles and a forced fumble against the Saints, 12 tackles against the Chiefs, 10 tackles and a sack against the Seahawks, eight tackles and two sacks against the Raiders, and six tackles and a pass defensed against the Bengals. His fist pump into the air seemed to be on a perpetual loop.

  “He’s a hellacious football player,” Eagles defensive end Greg Townsend said that year. “They talk about Lawrence Taylor and Mike Singletary, but he’s like both of them put into one.”

  Part of it had to do with being in a good place emotionally, something that couldn’t be said in 1993 when Junior was confronted with serious family issues. His wife Gina was put on bed rest owing to complications with her pregnancy; their daughter Sydney was subsequently placed in a neonatal intensive care unit after being born seven weeks early. And Tony, his 16-year-old brother who was the baby of the bunch, pleaded guilty to attempted murder charges in a gang-related shooting. If that wasn’t enough to clutter his mind, he also was displeased with a $650,000 base salary that ranked 18th on the 53-man roster.

  “Junior tried very hard last year, but he was dealing with more than most of us could handle,” coach Bobby Ross told the San Diego Union.

  His biggest concern was his wife and daughter. One Sunday morning after Junior and Gina returned from church, her water broke, two months before her delivery date. They went to the hospital, where she was put on bed rest. The plan was to wait for Sydney’s lungs to develop, then induce delivery. Even if everything went as planned, Sydney would need to spend a month in the neonatal intensive care unit.

  Junior, who was participating in training camp, tried to focus on football, but his mind clearly was elsewhere. “He came and visited me every day, because I couldn’t go home,” Gina said. “Several times he’d sneak the dogs in the back door. He’d bring dinner to me, and we’d eat together in the hospital.”

  In 1994 his mind was free of distractions. Gina was fine, Sydney was fine, and his wallet was fatter after signi
ng a $16.3 million deal in February that made him the league’s highest-paid linebacker and its second-highest-paid defender, behind Packers end Reggie White. His play early in the year made it seem like the Chargers had gotten a bargain. He was excelling thanks in part to personnel upgrades around him, like new starting linebackers Dennis Gibson and David Griggs. That they were added wasn’t shocking considering the Chargers didn’t get a single sack from that position the previous year; overall, San Diego had ranked last in the league, with only 32 sacks, in 1993. The defensive line also was improved. Leslie O’Neal, whose 29 sacks over the previous two seasons were third only to Kansas City’s Neil Smith and Denver’s Simon Fletcher, was already one of the game’s top ends/outside linebackers, and moving Chris Mims from tackle to end gave San Diego a formidable pass-rush tandem. In addition, putting tough-to-move tackle Shawn Lee next to Reuben Davis on the interior made it tough for opponents to run the football—and for blockers to get to Junior.

  Still, there was no indication in the preseason that the Chargers were headed for a fast start. They not only lost their first four games but also got dressed down by Ross after absorbing a 31–3 spanking from the Oilers early in that skid. “Exhibition season or not, that was a damn lackluster performance,” Ross told the media. “It wasn’t only lackluster, it was poor in how we played, and I’m embarrassed. We can’t turn the ball over five times, which led to scores. We can’t drop seven to eight passes, and our protection was shoddy.”

  The preseason games were not unlike what Ross saw in the opening quarter against the Broncos in week 1. The Chargers could do nothing right, but they kept grinding until momentum turned in their direction.