Ray Lewis ending NFL career with same intensity that burned years ago at UM

RayLewisRavens2
It was late one night, and nobody was around other than a handful of University of Miami football players with little to do but talk. And talk they did, until one guy made a claim and a second guy objected to that claim and, well, there was just no way anybody was going to get to bed that evening until this whole mess was settled.

Ray Lewis was one of those men, Twan Russell the other. To most people, it would say something that Russell was a state champion in the 300-meter hurdles at Fort Lauderdale-St. Thomas Aquinas High. If Lewis was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“I’m the fastest linebacker,” Lewis said.

“You’re not the fastest,” Russell shot back.

They each kicked off their flip-flops and went flying down the road.

“Ray didn’t have a chance,” Russell, a Dolphin from 2000 through 2002, recalled this week. “Or he shouldn’t have, put it that way.”

The story comes to life this week because Lewis, 37 and a surefire Hall of Famer, is ending his career with Baltimore during these playoffs, which continue Saturday with the Ravens visiting the Denver Broncos. And what happened that night at UM has everything to do with how Lewis has stood out for 17 seasons with one franchise.

“He’s such a competitor, he would have said, ‘Let’s race on glass,’ ” said Russell, now the Dolphins’ director of youth and community programs. “To this day, I’ll say I won, but he argues me down. He didn’t beat me — he talks a whole lot louder. He would not let me leave until I raced him. He wanted to make sure I knew what kind of competitor he was. And I had to RUN. I really had to put the hammer down to beat him.”

That put Russell in the company of thousands. Lewis’ retirement announcement last week was no different from most plays he makes. You know it’s coming, yet when impact occurs, you’re still stunned.

So it was that when Lewis told teammates this was his “last ride,” the Ravens knew they had meetings to dash off to … yet they all sat there, stunned.

No more raspy, fear-of-God, “What time is it?” pep talks? No more Squirrel Dance out of the tunnel? No more running backs losing their mouthpieces as No. 52 comes from clear out of your picture to slam into him?

“It’s time for me to go create a different legacy,” Lewis said.

Most of all, he’s looking forward to spending more time with his kids, including Ray III, an incoming freshman running back at UM. Watching Hurricanes games will be a breeze for Ray, because even though he’ll maintain a home in Baltimore, his South Florida residence is in Boca Raton, where he’s also delving into a real-estate venture.

Lewis’ football legacy is secure. Describing Lewis’ ability to fire up teammates, Russell said, “I don’t think any other player could go into a football game with jumper cables and shock them. He has willed them to Super Bowls. … When you hear his speeches, that comes from a place most people aren’t capable of going. I truly believe it’s a spiritual place. I believe football is more than a game for him and that God put a little piece of something inside him that no one else has.”

Part of what’s inside Lewis came out in his final home game Sunday: tears. He got emotional meeting relatives before the game. Fans, not known for punctuality, were there to watch Lewis emerge for his signature dance one last time. Quarterback Joe Flacco instructed his wife not just to bring the video camera, but to smuggle it past security if need be. Running back Ray Rice, who fought back tears after hearing the news, was “emotional-struck.”

“My locker is right next to his, and I just can’t picture Baltimore without him,” Rice said. “He has kids, but I was one of his kids.”

That’s no coincidence. Tracing his rise, Lewis recalled being inspired by watching Junior Seau and asking himself, “Wow. Who does that? How can you be at that level?” He got to that level but didn’t stop.

“I started making my own mark and then I realized that I can do a lot of things to be great individually, but I wanted to be known differently. I wanted to make men better.”

Whether Lewis was racing sideline to sideline to chase ballcarriers, dropping into pass coverage or harassing quarterbacks, he made it look natural, almost easy. Don Soldinger, UM’s running backs coach during Lewis’ tenure, knows that over the years, whenever teammates needed to find Lewis in the training complex, they began by looking in the film room. That kind of dedication, Soldinger said, simply boiled over on Sundays when Lewis danced onto the field.

“Don’t let anybody kid you and say he was a showboat,” Soldinger said. “He’s not. I just remember him as a super, super intense guy.”

Intense on the football field, intense in the middle of the street racing barefoot. So what’s the real story on how that race turned out?

“I definitely say I won,” Russell said. “But he’s so convincing in his argument, sometimes I think he won.”


Bookmark and Share
(palmbeachpost.com)
blog comments powered by Disqus