Pittsburgh – According to Troy Polamalu, pro football is a topic that never comes up in his home. There isn’t an “ego room” anywhere to be found. There are no trophies, no massive blowup of a magazine cover. Nothing to suggest that the home’s owner, the Pittsburgh Steelers’ all-pro safety, is one of the most dynamic, dominating players in the game today.
“I do have an attic, though,” he said with only the hint of a smile.
If one were to find Polamalu somewhere out on the streets here – a distinctly remote possibility – they would encounter that same low-key attitude, which is something of a problem, given the rabid nature of the local fan base. Polamalu will sign autographs – grudgingly – but admits that he’s uncomfortable with the fawning, love-of-everything-black-and-gold thing.
However, it’s an issue Polamalu, a former player at Southern California, has grown accustomed to.
“Being a football player here is like being a celebrity in Hollywood,” he said. “You could be walking next to Brad Pitt here and someone will go, ‘Oh, wow, that guy is on the Steelers’ practice squad!’
“That’s what it’s like here. In L.A. the only people who get that are actors and actresses or the sons and daughters of billionaires.”
Polamalu is attempting to maintain a fine, delicate balance in his life. One moment, the 24-year-old is saying how he’s put off by “the prestige thing”; in the next, he admits that having it can be important because it speaks to his on-field accomplishments.
In fact, the 5-foot-10, 212-pound third-year strong safety is usually in the middle of most of the action defensively for the Steelers; against Houston in Week 2, he recorded three sacks. Against Green Bay he returned a fumble 77 yards for a touchdown. Three weeks later, he picked off Peyton Manning, an interception that the officials allowed to stand, unlike last Sunday’s pick.
“He is fun to watch,” Broncos quarterback Jake Plummer said. “I am not a strong safety or free safety, but if I did play that position, that is the way I would want to play. Running around, flying around just doing some crazy stuff and making plays.”
To see Polamalu in action, his hair cascading from underneath his helmet down onto his back, sprinting back into coverage, diving after the football – especially charging forward and lighting up opposing players – is to presume a man under the influence of some sort of possession, the same almost maniacal spirit that boiled in the blood of Nitschke, Butkus and L.T.
But the odds are high that that trio of Hall of Fame hitters took the time to look questioners in the eye in order to give a direct answer. They barked and snapped. Polamalu’s whisper is so faint, a reporter has to filter through all the background noise from players across the room to find his words on tape.
And it’s certainly true that, when the 60 minutes of game-day mayhem are complete, or a practice concluded, those by-gone gladiators never had the ability to put their hair in a chic chignon for the rest of the day. Polamalu said the only time his locks are in complete free-fall is when he’s on the field, which leads to the question of why, when it would seem quite likely that a miffed opponent would attempt to yank him to the turf with a sharp tug of the mane.
“Maybe if I were a running back I guess I’d have that problem,” he said. “But if someone’s pulling on my hair because I have the ball, that’s a good thing. They could do that all they want.”
Passionate player
Almost anywhere you turn in the Pittsburgh locker room, there is a broad personality to be found. There is running back Jerome Bettis, “The Bus,” a 13-year veteran on the expressway to Canton. There is quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, the folk hero now in line to replace hockey legend Mario Lemieux as King of the City. And in this corner, there’s linebacker Joey Porter, a former Colorado State star who rarely hesitates to offer his view on how things are and how they should be.
Looming over the menagerie is coach Bill Cowher, all jutting jaw line and enough flying spittle to fill a bass drum. That is the way of the rough, tough Steelers; it is perhaps the way of most good teams. Another sizable presence, wide receiver Hines Ward, said it’s not unusual for 20 to 25 teammates to get together after practice, to hang out and talk shop.
More often than not, though, Polamalu isn’t among them.
“I’m not trying to be Joey, I’m not trying to be Ben,” he said. “People like Jerome can always be around football, always like to talk about football, but I like having the space, being able to jump in and jump out whenever I want to.
“I think I’m very passionate about everything that I do, that’s no different when I’m on the field. I play football with a passion; I love my wife with a passion. But I find it really hard to believe how barbaric some guys are on the football field. I think, ‘Man, that guy goes home to his wife and children.’ There’s something different there, something that doesn’t mesh.”
Football only part of the man
Although Polamalu’s hanging out quotient may be as wispy as his voice, he’s adored by his teammates.
“He’s not a big vocal guy, out on the field he’s not going to celebrate after making a play, he’s not going to run for a camera,” safety Chris Hope said. “But he lets us in; he’s different with the guys that he knows, the guys that he likes. He’s really a lot of fun.”
Earlier this week, Polamalu was asked whether a nasty-looking rash running almost the entire length of his left forearm came from last Sunday’s divisional playoff victory over Indianapolis. After answering yes, Polamalu was asked if he remembered the play.
“I do,” he said. “It was the touchdown pass to Dallas Clark. When they talk about getting burned on a play, this is what they mean.”
The inclusive moment made you want to pop him in the rear with a towel.
“It’s not that I’m guarded, I think you guys probably just ask me different questions than my friends do,” Polamalu said. “It’s also about the boundaries that you set for yourself. I think that, in a lot of cases, people don’t set boundaries when prestige comes, and I think, when they lose that, they lose control of their lives.
“My wife and I are very personable people, but we like our privacy. We set a lot of boundaries for ourselves – we’re not defined by football. My wife loves me because of me, my friends like me because of me, not because of football. A lot of people let football define who they are.”
Staff writer Anthony Cotton can be reached at 303-820-1292 or acotton@denverpost.com.
