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Wednesday, August 30, 2006Updated: August 31, 12:28 PM ETBold move or big mistake?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------By Tom FriendESPN The Magazine

Editor's Note: This story appears in the Sept. 11 edition of ESPN The Magazine. Dear Tuna,

Heard you gave your "No whining" speech to your Cowboys this summer, the one where you tell your players, "I don't have time for crybabies." Interesting you said that with No. 81 in the room, because pouting seems to be TO's M.O. Seriously, no one thinks you and Terrell Owens can co-exist, Coach. You want him to run on his sore hamstring, and he wants to jog. You can be insensitive, and he can be oversensitive. You win Super Bowls, and he writes tell-alls. His philosophy is to speak his mind, and yours is, "The less you say, the less you have to take back." It's a train wreck. Jerry Jones called TO's acquisition "one of the happiest days of my career," but that's easy for him to say -- he doesn't have to coach him. Jerry's setting you up to fail, or thinks TO gets a bad rap, or is selling his soul to win one more Lombardi. Either way, you have no choice: You have to find out what makes TO tick. All it takes is a phone call, or 10.

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TALKED to TO's first college coach at Tennessee-Chattanooga, Buddy Nix, and, Buddy won't help you. He's now personnel director for the Chargers, and all he'll say is, "I don't give interviews on TO. He don't talk about me, and I don't talk about him. I don't see any good that can come out of it."

Nix's silence speaks volumes, because the people in Chattanooga say Buddy went through hell with TO. As a freshman, TO got into a locker-room brawl and threatened to cut a teammate with a broken bottle. He also complained about playing time, and by the end of that year, Buddy -- who'd been schooled under Bear Bryant -- booted him off the team. "Owens was the same then as he is now," says a former UT-C staff member.

But Buddy never tried to nurture a relationship. He knew TO had come from impoverished Alexander City, Ala. He'd been inside TO's wood-framed house. He'd seen how TO's grandmother allowed only one lamp in there, how it felt like a cave, how TO removed the lamp shade to get more light. But Buddy thought that was no excuse for being late to meetings and brandishing a bottle.

Nix left UT-C for the Bills after TO's freshman season, and they didn't see each other again until the 1996 Senior Bowl. Nix showed up for the weigh-in, and every time he eyeballed TO, Owens dropped his head. Other NFL scouts saw Nix sidle up to Owens and say, "I ain't ever gonna hurt you, son. Or say anything to hurt you. So quit dropping your eyes every time I look at you, and get your ass up there and do the best you can."

But a seething TO never looked up or said a word. And that's what you can learn from Buddy Nix, Tuna. TO holds a grudge.

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TALKED to TO's first NFL quarterback, Steve Young, and he has mostly good memories. TO's last two college coaches, Tommy West (now at Memphis) and Buddy Green (Navy) say they enjoyed the kid, too. Maybe he'd finally grown up, because his bravery impressed 49ers scouts. His senior year, he'd actually covered punts and kickoffs. He'd been a team guy! That's what sold the Niners, because his hands were a C-.

In San Francisco, TO studied that other receiver on his team, Jerry Rice. He watched how Rice caught 500 balls after practice, how he ran all day, how he did yoga stretches. "TO was the only receiver I'd been with in 15 years who challenged Jerry," Young says. "Jerry out-worked everybody. Kind of like, I'm the king, and I'll make sure you know I'm the king. TO was the only guy that actually thought, well, I don't know about that."

This may be sacrilege to say, Tuna, but Rice could also be a horrible influence. At various times he demanded the ball, yelled at his QB, fumed at his coaches. And TO noticed Rice was never vilified for it. He watched Rice sign autographs and drive away in a Bentley. That's who TO wanted to be, dammit. The sooner, the better.

And that's why, in 1998, a relatively unknown Terrell Owens showed up at the 49ers practice facility with this personalized license plate: "XPOSUR."

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TALKED to some former and current 49ers who say TO got his wish on January 3rd, 1999.

In a home playoff game that day against the Packers, Owens' stone hands resurfaced. He fumbled once and dropped four balls. As he sat on the sidelines, awful childhood memories flooded back. Like when he'd fallen asleep on a high school bus with his mouth open, and a teammate spit on his tongue. Like when kids called him "Purple Pal" for being so dark-skinned. That's how those four botched passes made him feel -- angry, insecure -- and he figured, that's it, they're not going to throw to me again. He didn't trust them, Tuna. He doesn't trust anybody, Tuna.

After his big TD catch vs. Green Bay, Terrell Owens officially became TO.

So he walked up to Young and said, "Steve, believe in me." And Young was stunned. He told TO, "You're one of the best in the league, and you're only your third year in, so don't worry about me believing in you, okay? Just catch the next one."

The next one came with three seconds left, the 49ers trailing by four. Owens ran a route called "All Go Double Comeback," and caught it at the goal line with two Packers aiming for his skull. He sobbed afterwards, which was an odd reaction to some, but not Derrick Deese, the 49ers left tackle who played dominos with Owens virtually every day. "TO was emotional because the touchdown signified that we knew what he knew -- that we had to go back to him to win the game," Deese says. "That meant more than the catch."

That catch and those tears put TO on the map. Exposure? Earned it. Self-esteem? Had it. Years later, he'd tell Young, "Thanks for believing in me, man." That's how much of a breakthrough it was. But 49ers staffers noticed Owens began craving attention. He got his teeth fixed, for possible endorsements. He bought stylish clothes. He got a new personalized license plate: "Catch II." To a lot of people in the organization, the TD had changed the kid forever. "Before the catch, he was Terrell Owens," says one. "After the catch, he became TO."

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TALKED to Ken Norton, Jr., and he says it didn't help the 49ers locker room was changing. Most of the bully vets


who kept TO in line were retiring or moving on, while a distracted Rice was in the final year of his 49ers career, whining for the football. It meant TO was free to be his own man. In Dallas, he made his infamous run to the midfield star after a TD, raising his arms to the heavens. When he tried it again, Cowboys safety George Teague rammed him from behind. It started a melee.

After the game, TO couldn't understand why Norton criticized him and the 49ers suspended him. He said he'd done it for them! That he'd danced on the star to announce the 49ers arrival, to announce himself as the new Rice, the new King. And even though management balked at that, young teammates like long snapper Brian Jennings thought it was "cool as hell." Young says the old 49ers locker room never would have tolerated it, but now it was -- gulp -- TO's locker room.

Two years later came the Sharpie incident, which caused another maelstrom. His touchdowns were becoming mini-series, and when teammates asked what else he had planned, he'd say, "Get your popcorn, 'cause it's going to be a show." But, "get your popcorn" was o TO's catch phrase for "expect more drama," and that's why Steve Mariucci and owner John York wouldn't stick up for him. "I remember him telling me, 'No one has my back,'" Deese says. "He gets upset when he feels people don't like him."

TO was already moody -- "I'm his friend, and he'd go weeks without looking at or talking to me," Jennings says -- but it was worsening. Didn't 49er execs know what he meant to the team? That he threw parties at his house for unity? That he let young players live with him? That he wore crooked teeth and Goofy ears during Halloween practices, to keep it loose? "Let me get something straight," Deese says. "We had more good times than bad with TO. Anybody who said they didn't, they're lying. Don't buy into the idea everyone hated TO."

So TO lashed out. When Randy Moss out-gained him by more than 100 yards in a 2003 49ers-Vikings matchup, TO laced into O-coordinator Greg Knapp during the game, and Jeff Garcia afterward. That was the difference between TO and Rice. Rice was politically correct; TO wasn't. When TO sensed the 49ers weren't going to pay him, that they wanted Garcia controlling the locker room, he spared no one. He ripped Garcia's throwing arm, and after his inevitable trade to the Eagles, he implied in the Sept. 2004 issue of Playboy, that Garcia was gay. To the 49ers, TO had developed the worst possible malady.

Over-XPOSUR.

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Things started off well for Owens and McNabb but ended up going south. TALKED to some other execs about TO's 2004 move to Philly, and they were stunned at how well he fit in at first. But it's very simple, Tuna. The Eagles made TO feel like he was king, like he was Rice.

They'd done their homework. Right after the trade, Andy Reid called Young for advice, and Young told him, "TO's work ethic is a 10, but you've got to check in with him every day." Young said TO's moody, and that if he's ticked off, you can't let it fester. He told Reid to joke with TO, which is why Reid promised to wear tights if TO caught 15 TDs. And Young said Donovan McNabb needed to check in daily, too. "Because conflict resolution has never been TO's forte," Young says.

We know what happened next. During a November 2004 game against the Giants, TO says he told McNabb, "I was open. Dude, you missed me," and McNabb supposedly answered, "Shut the #%#* up." TO says McNabb snubbed him after the game, and it all blew up in their faces when the Eagles -- ignoring Young's advice -- let it fester. So he'll tear up a team if you let him, Tuna. He'll tear up a team.


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TALKED to Deese about TO's Philly implosion, and Deese wants to tell you about TO's dad. He swears this'll help figure the whole thing out. When TO was 11, he thought his dad was either dead or living in some other state. He'd come to grips with that, which was good. Then, one day, when he was flirting with a girl across the street, this girl's father shooed TO away.

"You can't be interested in her," the man told TO.

"Why not? I like her," TO said.

"Because she's your half-sister," the man said.

"TO loves a war of wills. It fuels him. He wants to see if he's the strongest person in any setting. He likes breaking people down, and Parcells is a challenge: Who will break down first? " -- Former 49ers stafferThat's how TO met his father, Tuna, and Deese wants you to know how traumatic that is. "How are you supposed to feel when you're living across the street from your dad, but you don't know it's your dad, and he's never come told you he's your dad?" Deese says. "That's a defining moment in life. Now you're wondering, if my dad didn't want to tell me he's my dad, what's wrong with me?"

It's why TO needs all these coaches and QBs to kiss up to him now. Another buddy who's heard that story -- someone who wants to remain nameless -- says it's amazing TO even made it out of Alabama. He says he was joking about his own rough childhood when TO, with a straight face, said, "Sh**, man, I couldn't even leave the yard growing up. Got a bike for Christmas, and couldn't even take it out of the driveway. And I had to live in the dorm all through college, 'cause I had no cash. And I only ate like three days a week. Had no car or bike or nothing."

Over the years, that buddy also heard how TO's grandma used to drink, how she'd keep him cooped up in that cave with the windows shut and the heat turned off, how she'd to tell him not to trust a soul. "So he's this kid finding out the world is evil, the world is hard," says this former 49ers teammate. "That's what he's raised believing. He can't even go to his best friend's house because he's told he's too stupid, too ugly. So socially, with people, with relationships, he's been led to believe he's worthless. And now he gets into a situation with Garcia and McNabb, and he says these ugly things because it's how he feels about himself. It has nothing to do with Jeff and Donovan. It's a confession: I'm miserable, and I want you to hurt as bad as I hurt. You're talking about his dark side, and you can't tap into that. Because you're unleashing the demons.

"So Parcells has to focus on TO's football playing. Don't tap into that dark side. Don't bring out that 10-year-old that lives in a basement with no lights, that doesn't know who his dad is, who thinks he's worthless. Tap into his football. The only place that sets him free is the field. You can see it in his body language, you can see it in his face, you can see it in his physique. Look at that body. Parcells needs to make sure TO hears: We need you. You're a Cowboy. Thank you."

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TALKED to some of your old Giant players, Tuna, and they've never known you to be Mr. Sensitive. They remember gaining only 13 rushing yards in a game against the 49ers, and you nicknaming the offensive line, "Club 13." They remember cornerback Elvis Patterson getting burned for TDs, and you calling him "Toast." They remember your sayings, like "Act like you've been there before," or "Don't act like a ball in high grass." They remember asking you, "What's a ball in high grass, coach?" And they remember you snapping: "Lost."

They wonder how TO's going to react to all that, because the Tuna they knew wouldn't have brought a TO to the


Giants. "Well, he could've, but the guy would've have been gone in a couple weeks," says your former center Bart Oates. "The players would've tortured him to death. And don't tell me TO is like LT was. No comparison. LT wasn't a showman. He did his job, didn't show guys up, didn't draw undue attention to himself."

So, Tuna, how long? How long before you call TO a ball in high grass?

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TALKED TO people at Cowboys camp, and they think you're ready to do it now! They say TO's sore hamstring has you agitated, that he's already challenged your authority, and it's not surprising you had to fine him $9,500 for skipping a team meeting and rehab session. They say you still won't refer to TO by name, that you call him "this player" or "this guy" because you hate when someone becomes bigger than the team. They say you're only communicating with him via intermediaries, and that it's the first sign of war. But don't worry, TO does not milk injuries. His old 49ers teammates say TO had a torn groin in training camp of 2002, and brought in the same posse he brought for his hammy: chiropractor, massage therapist, kinesiologist. They say after 49ers evening meetings, TO would be in treatment from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m. That his posse would set up in a conference room and work on TO like mad scientists. "So when people say he's not a team guy," Jennings says, "they don't see he's doing everything he can to help his team by getting healthy."

Downside is, TO enjoys ticking you off. A former 49er staffer says, "TO loves a war of wills. It fuels him. He wants to see if he's the strongest person in any setting. He likes breaking people down, and Parcells is a challenge: Who will break down first?"

See, it's just part of his circus, Tuna, it's part of his circus.

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TALKED to your wide receiver Terry Glenn, the guy you once called "she," and Terry thinks you and TO will eventually hit it off. Not only that, Terry thinks TO's going to be fine with Drew Bledsoe. No one else thinks that, mind you. Everybody else thinks the minute Drew ignores a wide-open TO, there'll be a fight. But not Terry. "He won't be mad at Drew," Glenn says, "because it won't be Drew's decision where to throw the ball. It'll be Bill. It's coming from Bill. If TO is balling and having a great game, he'll get the ball. So I don't see TO getting upset. Bill wants TO to want the ball. He wants TO to play with an ego." An ego, he's got.

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TALKED to Bledsoe, and he already seems bored by the subject. Asked him if his buddies have placed bets on when TO's going to go off on him and Drew didn't even chuckle. "Last year, I talked about Bill all year," he said. "And I guess this year I'll have to talk about TO." He wasn't rude about it, but right then Bledsoe just got up and walked away.

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TALKED to Jerry Jones, and it sounds like he can be the good cop to your bad cop. This signing was all Jerry's idea, and Jerry's going to be at every practice, patting TO on the back. Jerry's no dummy. Jerry knows that TO needs to feel like the king, and the key is he's just paid him like he's the king. Ten mil this season? No one in the league would have


dared, but that's why Jerry thinks Dallas will be different for TO than Philly and Frisco. "I don't think Terrell's had satisfaction financially before," Jerry says.

Jerry isn't messing around. He hasn't won a Super Bowl in 10 years, and wants another one -- this season. He keeps saying the TO move was "about now, not years from now." He says if the move "looks desperate, that's because I feel that way." Jerry's not getting any younger, you're not getting any younger, and TO, at 32, isn't getting any younger. Not to put any pressure on you, Tuna, but there's pressure on you.

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TALKED to an AFC exec, who bluntly summed everything up. He says you only have TO because no one else wanted him. That TO's only played in the West Coast offense, and your longer pass routes aren't up his alley. That you have a young, hot-tempered passing-game coordinator, Todd Haley, who's bound to clash with TO. That you don't have enough vets in your locker room to keep him in line. That you aren't equipped to handle this. "My opinion is that TO will be fine until he gets the upper hand," the executive says. "Once he gets established and they're depending on him, he will be the same disruptive guy as always. It don't mean sh** that Parcells is the coach. Parcells is not the savior. He's a good football coach, but he can't re-do people. He can't! If he could, he'd win it all every year."

This is what you're up against, Tuna. The final days of your NFL career boil down to a relationship with a tortured, complex receiver who might mean more to your owner than you do. So be careful. Because if this ends badly, you know what TO's going to do. He's going to write another book. About you.

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TALKED to TO. He said, "Get your popcorn, 'cause it's going to be a show."

TO and Parcells: How long before the marriage blows up? E-mail us at [email protected].

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