NFL POINDEXTER: PASSION PLAY

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This man is passionate about at least two sports.

[Ed's note: Alan Grant went to Stanford, played for four teams in the NFL. Now he's just a smart dude with a lot to say who writes for us on occasion. We present edition 2 of NFL Poindexter.]

The vibe was downright joyful. Their second practice session of the day over, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers sauntered off the field at Orlando's Wide World of Sports facility, headed toward the cool of the locker room.

Receiver Michael Clayton, the Bucs' top pick in 2004, was smiling, a rare sight in the dog days of training camp. But there it was—an unabashed grin. One of the Bucs' young interns was amazed. "They're never this happy," he said. I pointed out that an afternoon off tends to lift one's spirits.


As Clayton approached, I remembered that he was an outstanding high school basketball player at Christian Life Academy in Baton Rouge. So I asked him how many schools had recruited him to play basketball. The smile widened.

"Every school in the SEC," he said. He ended up playing football at LSU.

"That's just the way it turned out," he said. "But basketball is my first love."

Pro athletes do this a lot. They play one game for a living but profess love of another. And this drives some people—fans, media, front-office-types—nuts. To them, an athlete's profession should be the force that drives him, their be-all, end-all. Their passion. But what if there's another game, another pastime, that occupies that space, is that really so bad?

First, we need to settle on a definition of the word "passion." Some people think that if you're passionate about something, that it should be an all-consuming love that leaves little room for anything else. To me, that sounds more like a neurosis. We should be looking for something less dramatic, and more personal.

It's only natural that Clayton would call basketball his first love. There are no expectations or pressures associate with the sport. There's no coach telling him how to play, when to play and how to look when he plays. There are no contracts or contract disputes. There's just the game. This is why Jordan went chasing curve balls and why Lance runs marathons—neither one seeking nor achieving the dominance we've come to associate with their particular brands. Both welcomed the opportunity to play for the sake of play.

Clayton satisfies and showcases his basketball jones in a yearly event called the Hoops Jam. It's a charity tournament in which he and several of his friends and teammates play some hoop and raise some money for kids. Lest anyone be fooled, the basketball part is as important to him as the charity.

So, who's a better baller, you or Terrell Owens? I asked.

He grimaced, cocked his head and shot me a look. It was the kind of look one would get after asking a man if he enjoys wearing women's clothing.

"T.O. can play a little bit," he said. "But I can really play."

He can play football too. But since his rookie season, a sterling, 80-catch,1,193 yard effort, Clayton has been inconsistent. The reason? He likes to block. Usually, receivers see blocking as little more than a necessary evil.

During running plays, the average wideout usually becomes just a human obstacle for pursuing defenders. Clayton takes it up a notch. "I like to headhunt guys," he says with a gleam in his eye. "I've played that way since I was on special teams in college." This has led to various injuries of the knees, toes and shoulders. He hasn't had a full season since 2004.

To me, such behavior suggests Clayton has a deep affection for football, too. Why else would he sacrifice his body in a pursuit that doesn't directly benefit him? Maybe this is what we mean by real passion. Maybe for Clayton it should be defined as something that spurs one to actions that might be deemed irrational or against the athlete's best interests?

But people want their athletes to wear their love of the game on their sleeve. They want crazy! I gotta tell you, the Coo-Coo-for-Cocoa-Puffs routine doesn't play well in the work place 24/7.

Often, fans take what they see as a lack of passion as a sign of ungratefulness. When this happens, it's not long before someone reaches for that familiar refrain: "I would play for nothing."

No you wouldn't. If you had the ability to play at the elite level then someone affiliated with an organization would invite you to play on a team.

And once you had established yourself as a legitimate performer, you would no longer be awed by the game. Nor would you be awed by those working next to you. You would be a bona fide professional athlete. And by definition, a professional is one who is compensated for his services. So no, you wouldn't play for nothing.

Olympian Reese Hoffa offers one of the best examples of reconciling passion, love and practicality when it comes to sport. He's the reigning world champion in the shot put and the favorite to win the gold in Beijing. Did Hoffa grow up dreaming of throwing a 16 pound ball further than anyone else in the world? Nope. Hoffa ended up where he is after pursuing other sports.

"I really loved baseball as a kid," he says. During his first two years of high school, Hoffa spent the spring on the diamond. But then he gave it up.

"Politics," he said. "The starting catcher got his job because his dad gave more money to the school or something. I was told to sit on the bench. So I was done with baseball. My junior year I threw the shot put for the first time."

He was a natural. In a few months time, he was dominant. Eventually, he grew to embrace the sport, but it didn't consume him. "It felt great. It was awesome," Hoffa says about his success. "But it didn't really change me."

Should you be so moved to watch Hoffa throw you won't see a man defined by his event. You won't see crazy, over-the-top emotion. But if you look hard, you will see passion.

Michael Clayton can relate.

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