Romo

Did you see the 60 minutes (or 20/20 or dateline or whatever program it was) interview with Bill Romanowski? What a freak! He's still quite proud of his jaw breaking hit on Kerry Collins. And seemed kinda pleased that he broke fingers just to cause pain. He has had some mental slowdown from all the hits. I really see him being like Ali in the future with all the punishment he put his body through.

 

[font=Arial,sans-serif]Romanowski a clown on '60 minutes'



Monday, October 17, 2005By Brian Vanochten
The Grand Rapids Press
Sniffle.

In front of a prime-time national television audience Sunday night, former NFL linebacker Bill Romanowski's eyes filled with teardrops and his upper lip quivered while he cleansed his tortured soul on CBS' "60 Minutes."

Oh, please.

The sanctimonious Romanowski, who admits his purpose on the football field was to injure opponents instead of simply playing the game the right way like a true professional, attempted to elicit sympathy from the masses for confessing to his sins as the meanest, nastiest, filthiest, immoral NFL star this side of Conrad Dobler.

Oh, right, he's promoting a new book.

He's hoping the masses will make him rich by reading all of the salacious details of his bone-breaking, eye-gouging, steroid-taking behavior he once practiced in the NFL but -- shazam! -- suddenly claims he regrets.

I'm not buying it.

I'm not bothering with his ridiculous book either.



Popping pills

I watched slack-jawed while Romanowski, whose book title isn't mentioned in this column, recalled with a smile the cheap shots and violent tackles of his infamous career that left opponents woozy from concussions.

I'm appalled CBS would even put this joker on camera.

"I thought I could take myself to a place where other guys weren't willing to go," he said, rationalizing his conduct on and off the field, including a $200,000-a-year spending habit on so-called nutritional supplements he felt provided him with a mental or physical edge.

"I hated that team," he said of his weekly opponent. "I hated those guys. I hated their families. By Sunday when I got on the field, it was rage."

Yep, a chemically induced rage.

It was common knowledge throughout his NFL career that he swallowed as many as 100 pills on a daily basis and preached to teammates the benefits of turning himself into a human lab rat. His routine included taking vitamins and herbal supplements from a briefcase he carried at all times, using creatine, acupuncture treatments and experimental therapies.

His strangest admission: He recalled submitting to "live cell therapy" during which the cells of Scottish black sheep were injected into his body to promote healing.

He gulped other potions without knowing the contents.

"I did it out of the fear of failure. I didn't want to lose my job," he said with a straight face.



What a creep

He showed no remorse for a hit that broke the jaw of an NFL quarterback and didn't comment on camera about the 2003 training-camp incident in which he attacked a teammate and later paid a $415,000 settlement to resolve the matter out of court.

"One of the best hits of my career," he said with pure glee while watching film again of the jaw-breaking tackle. "It was perfect. It's something you dream about."

Yikes. Imagine this creep's nightmares.

He also fessed up to using steroids from 2001-03, though he denied it throughout his playing career, and for the first time admitted to injecting himself with human growth hormone "for a brief period of time, but I didn't receive any benefits."

No, of course not.

The final portion of the interview, not surprisingly, featured Romanowski sobbing while telling us he "compromised my morality to get ahead" and felt shame and embarrassment when his son asked, "Dad, do you do drugs?"

Finally, he looked off-camera, as if on cue, explaining he couldn't bring himself to clean out his Oakland Raiders' locker after suffering the last of "eight to 15 to 20" concussions that ultimately forced him into retirement.

Poor schlep.

It turns out what he needed most is a brain transplant.











© 2005 Grand Rapids Press. Used with permission


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What got me was he cried about not being able to clean out his locker but not when he talked about his son confronting him about the drug use. Yes, he was somewhat "chagrined" about his son's accusation, but no tears. But leaving behind football for good (or more rightly his professional career of assault with intent to commit great bodily harm) brought tears. Has his priorities straight doesn't he?