Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
It was not yet the end of June, and Willie Parker had already been relieved of his Super Bowl ring.
The massive, sparkling chunk o' bling and the black box it came in rolled straight out of Pittsburgh in the dark of night, surfacing later in the trunk of a Cadillac in North Carolina, a showroom new pearl white Caddy driven by a man in the company of a woman, both on a mission of deceit, conspiracy, and, dare we say it, skullduggery.
But it's all good.
The driver was Parker's brother, Jamal, his companion Parker's sister, Kimberly, and the fleet Steelers' scatback was himself a co-conspirator, happy again to indict himself yesterday after practice at Saint Vincent College.
"My father worked in a factory and it was very tough on him," Parker said from beneath a layer of late afternoon sweat. "He had no college education, so he had no choice but the factory, and he worked there, I don't know, 30-some years I guess."
So Willie Parker Sr., a North Carolina factory worker who with his wife put four kids through college essentially to keep them from becoming factory workers themselves, was the greatly admired target of this delicious caper. It was all for him. The ring. The car. The love.
But it had to start with a lie, of course.
When they asked the 25-year-old who had just ripped off the longest touchdown run from scrimmage in the history of the Super Bowl what size ring he wore, Willie Parker stone lied.
"I told 'em 13 and a half," he smiled. "That's not my size. That's my dad's."
Oddly enough, there was precedent for this idea.
For a player whose 75-yard touchdown run against Seattle represented more than 40 percent of the yardage gained in his senior season at North Carolina, Parker had previously accumulated a surprisingly expansive collection of athletic jewelry. There was that Peach Bowl ring, for example, and there were two rings awarded him for whipping the Clinton Dark Horses to high school championships.
"I gave all my rings to my dad, so I felt there was no need to change up," Parker said.
He's not one to doubt his instincts, no matter that he pinballed all over the depth chart in college, no matter that he got to Latrobe just two years ago last month with about as much fanfare as a night sale at unclaimed freight. Undrafted free agents with anorexic NCAA resumes often prove to be pretty pliable in NFL training camps, but from the moment Parker got here, he has rarely taken a tentative step.
He has long believed in himself more than others have, and now it's time everyone caught up.
On this Latrobe lawn yesterday, every Parker stride seemed to be 5 yards long, his chiseled physique flashing in and out of creases and bolting free for another 40 yards just for the sheer joy of it.
He's back from his first season as a starter, in which he gained 1,202 yards, and if that looks less than wholly spectacular on its face, consider that Franco Harris gained more only once in a Hall of Fame career, and that in another Hall of Fame career, John Henry Johnson never gained as many. And for all the crying coming out of the Pacific Northwest on allegedly questionable officiating spasms that might have altered the course of Super Bowl XL, there was simply nothing that could be said about Willie Parker streaking across three quarters of the Ford Field floor in just a few thoroughbred heartbeats. When you're smoked, you're smoked.
But back to our story.
Parker's best laid plans for his father's surprise had gone off with some precision. Willie bought him a Cadillac, because he'd always loved Cadillacs, and arrangements had been made for Jamal and Kimberly to drive it all night to North Carolina. But then a snag: Willie Jr. got a good look at the ring.
"When I saw it, I knew I wanted it back," he said sheepishly. "But you know, I couldn't. It's such a good feeling now. I wish I could have been there to see him get it. I know he started crying."
Parker couldn't get out of Pittsburgh that week. Jamal and Kimberly pulled a theatrical delivery off perfectly, with Jamal telling dad that yes, this was his new car from Willie, but that he had just spilled something in the trunk. They brought dad over to open the trunk, and there was the black box.
"When I gave my dad those high school rings, my mom never felt left out because I guess she didn't think it was that big a deal," Parker said. "But now it's a Super Bowl ring and I guess she is feeling left out. But she'll get hers in due time."
Did I mention that he was confident?
(Gene Collier can be reached at gcollier@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1283. )
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