BallHawk
11-19-2007, 11:20 AM
GREEN BAY, Wis. – Nick Barnett exhaled deeply, and for a few seconds the anger appeared to vanish. By all rights Barnett, the NFL's best inside linebacker in 2007, should have been smiling Sunday evening. He had just helped the Green Bay Packers improve to 9-1 with a 31-17 victory over the Carolina Panthers at Lambeau Field, keeping the league's unlikeliest Super Bowl contender tied with the Dallas Cowboys atop the NFC 10 days before their Thursday night showdown at Texas Stadium.
Now he was finishing his dinner at an Olive Garden a few miles down Oneida Street and preparing for a well-deserved power nap and celebratory night on the town.
First, however, Barnett would do what he always does after games: Sit alone in the miniature movie theater at his home alongside the Fox River in DePere and beat himself up more brutally than he does opposing ballcarriers. Cursing at the screen, slamming the remote on his knee, rewinding his DVR over and over again to watch particularly troubling plays, Barnett is a prickly perfectionist who never met a replay he didn't hate.
"I'm very critical of myself, to the point where by the time I'm done watching, I'm convinced I played the worst game of the season," Barnett explained as he finished the last of his shrimp. "It's a constant pursuit of excellence, which is a gift and a curse. Honestly, I'm just so critical. I'm never in a good mood, man."
This is especially true on days like Sunday, when Barnett's most notable play was the 15-yard personal foul penalty he drew for driving 44-year-old Carolina quarterback Vinny Testaverde well out of bounds late in the first half, and his team-high total of eight tackles (and one assist) was compiled in relatively uneventful fashion. But Barnett, a rangy, ferocious fifth-year player who on Sunday hit the 100-tackle plateau for the fifth consecutive season – he led the Packers in that unofficial stat each of his first three years before finishing second to teammate A.J. Hawk in '06 and is back atop the charts in '07 – ritualistically tears himself down after games, no matter how dominant his performance.
"He's the best linebacker in the game right now," cornerback Charles Woodson says of Barnett. "He goes 100 miles an hour 100 percent of the time. He's a fun guy to watch on film."
Uh, yeah – depending upon one's perspective. "Watching myself on film is painful," Barnett says. "I just feel like I'm supposed to make every play, and I always end up saying, 'I could've got there faster.'"
The cheesehead-sized chip on his shoulder has been stoked by years of perceived slights. Lightly recruited out of high school in Southern California, Barnett was headed for UNLV before Oregon State and then-coach Dennis Erickson emerged late in the game as his lone Pac-10 suitor. The 6-foot-2, 232-pounder has yet to make a Pro Bowl, toiling in the shadow of NFC North rival Brian Urlacher, who Barnett says won't acknowledge his presence (more on that later), and the Baltimore Ravens' Ray Lewis, among other high-profile middle linebackers.
But what really riles Barnett is the semi-fictional disrespect from opponents he manufactures every time he takes the field.
Growing up in Fontana, Calif., Barnett was always combative. "When he was eight or nine, he used to wear his kung fu outfit to bed," recalls Nick's older brother Dinde.
"Yep," Nick confirms. "I used to think I was Bruce Lee."
At A.B. Miller High School, Barnett would barge into the locker room before games and announce to his teammates that their opponents had slighted them, providing specific details of the trash-talk. Never mind that it was completely fabricated.
These days, Barnett simply tries to trick himself. "As soon as I wake up on Sunday," he says, "I'm thinking, 'It's gonna go down today.' Then I figure out a way to get myself mad."
On Sunday, Barnett began by text-messaging his friend Shamon Jamerson, typing, "I'm Achilles and Beowulf rolled into one." Jamerson, who knows how the game is the played, responded, "You ain't (expletive) until you go out there and show it." Barnett's reply: "Keep your eyes open today. Don't blink, or you might miss something."
In the locker room, Barnett's iPod serves as the musical catalog of choice; team officials bought a special adapter to hook it up to the internal sound system. On Sunday the selections ranged from Mystikal's "Here I Go" to Tupac's "Ambitionz Az A Ridah."
During pre-game warmups Barnett, as is his custom, stopped doing drills as the Panthers charged onto the field, glaring at his opponents as they passed and waiting for someone to initiate a verbal exchange. After striking up a conversation with former teammate Mike Wahle, Barnett got his wish. Referring to the fact that the game featured opposing siblings in Panthers defensive tackle Kris Jenkins and Packers defensive end Cullen Jenkins, Carolina defensive end Mike Rucker said, "It's all about big brother today."
"No big brother over here!" Barnett screamed, and the barking escalated.
Says Barnett: "Once they say something, it's on. I get all the guys into it. You've just got to play loose. Last year in San Francisco, I yelled at (veteran lineman) Larry Allen, 'It's going down today.' He didn't hear me right; it's amazing what stuff sounds like through a mouthpiece, I guess. He said, 'Who you calling 'bitch'? and it was on. I wasn't gonna back down and say, 'I didn't say that.' So I said, 'You, bitch.' I got the whole D-line involved."
What happens if the opponents won't engage?
"Then," Barnett answers, "I just reverse it. I say, 'No one wants to talk to me. They're disrespectful!' And at the time, I really am thinking that. I really make myself believe that they don’t think I can do this or that.'"
You can imagine how Barnett channels the icy treatment he says he gets from Urlacher, the reigning NFL defensive player of the year. "I've been here five years and played them twice a year, and he's never said a word to me after a game," Barnett says. "It's real weird. I've played London Fletcher, Donnie Edwards, even Ray Lewis – they've all come up and talked to me afterward. Maybe it's a Bears-Packers thing, but he's the veteran, he's been to the Pro Bowl, so I feel like it's on him to initiate things. But that's cool. It's not like I'm worried about it."
With Urlacher battling through back pain and the defending NFC champion Bears struggling, Barnett, who has two interceptions and a fumble recovery this season, has a chance to seize some of the glory he's been seeking these past few years. The Packers' overall defensive improvement, he says, has hurt his individual numbers – "Other guys are making plays before I can get there" – but as the team's profile rises, his prospects for earning that first Pro Bowl berth (he's first in the most recently tabulated fan vote) should brighten.
So, too, should his disposition – eventually, at least.
"I won't be in a good mood," he says, "until I'm in Hawaii."
Now he was finishing his dinner at an Olive Garden a few miles down Oneida Street and preparing for a well-deserved power nap and celebratory night on the town.
First, however, Barnett would do what he always does after games: Sit alone in the miniature movie theater at his home alongside the Fox River in DePere and beat himself up more brutally than he does opposing ballcarriers. Cursing at the screen, slamming the remote on his knee, rewinding his DVR over and over again to watch particularly troubling plays, Barnett is a prickly perfectionist who never met a replay he didn't hate.
"I'm very critical of myself, to the point where by the time I'm done watching, I'm convinced I played the worst game of the season," Barnett explained as he finished the last of his shrimp. "It's a constant pursuit of excellence, which is a gift and a curse. Honestly, I'm just so critical. I'm never in a good mood, man."
This is especially true on days like Sunday, when Barnett's most notable play was the 15-yard personal foul penalty he drew for driving 44-year-old Carolina quarterback Vinny Testaverde well out of bounds late in the first half, and his team-high total of eight tackles (and one assist) was compiled in relatively uneventful fashion. But Barnett, a rangy, ferocious fifth-year player who on Sunday hit the 100-tackle plateau for the fifth consecutive season – he led the Packers in that unofficial stat each of his first three years before finishing second to teammate A.J. Hawk in '06 and is back atop the charts in '07 – ritualistically tears himself down after games, no matter how dominant his performance.
"He's the best linebacker in the game right now," cornerback Charles Woodson says of Barnett. "He goes 100 miles an hour 100 percent of the time. He's a fun guy to watch on film."
Uh, yeah – depending upon one's perspective. "Watching myself on film is painful," Barnett says. "I just feel like I'm supposed to make every play, and I always end up saying, 'I could've got there faster.'"
The cheesehead-sized chip on his shoulder has been stoked by years of perceived slights. Lightly recruited out of high school in Southern California, Barnett was headed for UNLV before Oregon State and then-coach Dennis Erickson emerged late in the game as his lone Pac-10 suitor. The 6-foot-2, 232-pounder has yet to make a Pro Bowl, toiling in the shadow of NFC North rival Brian Urlacher, who Barnett says won't acknowledge his presence (more on that later), and the Baltimore Ravens' Ray Lewis, among other high-profile middle linebackers.
But what really riles Barnett is the semi-fictional disrespect from opponents he manufactures every time he takes the field.
Growing up in Fontana, Calif., Barnett was always combative. "When he was eight or nine, he used to wear his kung fu outfit to bed," recalls Nick's older brother Dinde.
"Yep," Nick confirms. "I used to think I was Bruce Lee."
At A.B. Miller High School, Barnett would barge into the locker room before games and announce to his teammates that their opponents had slighted them, providing specific details of the trash-talk. Never mind that it was completely fabricated.
These days, Barnett simply tries to trick himself. "As soon as I wake up on Sunday," he says, "I'm thinking, 'It's gonna go down today.' Then I figure out a way to get myself mad."
On Sunday, Barnett began by text-messaging his friend Shamon Jamerson, typing, "I'm Achilles and Beowulf rolled into one." Jamerson, who knows how the game is the played, responded, "You ain't (expletive) until you go out there and show it." Barnett's reply: "Keep your eyes open today. Don't blink, or you might miss something."
In the locker room, Barnett's iPod serves as the musical catalog of choice; team officials bought a special adapter to hook it up to the internal sound system. On Sunday the selections ranged from Mystikal's "Here I Go" to Tupac's "Ambitionz Az A Ridah."
During pre-game warmups Barnett, as is his custom, stopped doing drills as the Panthers charged onto the field, glaring at his opponents as they passed and waiting for someone to initiate a verbal exchange. After striking up a conversation with former teammate Mike Wahle, Barnett got his wish. Referring to the fact that the game featured opposing siblings in Panthers defensive tackle Kris Jenkins and Packers defensive end Cullen Jenkins, Carolina defensive end Mike Rucker said, "It's all about big brother today."
"No big brother over here!" Barnett screamed, and the barking escalated.
Says Barnett: "Once they say something, it's on. I get all the guys into it. You've just got to play loose. Last year in San Francisco, I yelled at (veteran lineman) Larry Allen, 'It's going down today.' He didn't hear me right; it's amazing what stuff sounds like through a mouthpiece, I guess. He said, 'Who you calling 'bitch'? and it was on. I wasn't gonna back down and say, 'I didn't say that.' So I said, 'You, bitch.' I got the whole D-line involved."
What happens if the opponents won't engage?
"Then," Barnett answers, "I just reverse it. I say, 'No one wants to talk to me. They're disrespectful!' And at the time, I really am thinking that. I really make myself believe that they don’t think I can do this or that.'"
You can imagine how Barnett channels the icy treatment he says he gets from Urlacher, the reigning NFL defensive player of the year. "I've been here five years and played them twice a year, and he's never said a word to me after a game," Barnett says. "It's real weird. I've played London Fletcher, Donnie Edwards, even Ray Lewis – they've all come up and talked to me afterward. Maybe it's a Bears-Packers thing, but he's the veteran, he's been to the Pro Bowl, so I feel like it's on him to initiate things. But that's cool. It's not like I'm worried about it."
With Urlacher battling through back pain and the defending NFC champion Bears struggling, Barnett, who has two interceptions and a fumble recovery this season, has a chance to seize some of the glory he's been seeking these past few years. The Packers' overall defensive improvement, he says, has hurt his individual numbers – "Other guys are making plays before I can get there" – but as the team's profile rises, his prospects for earning that first Pro Bowl berth (he's first in the most recently tabulated fan vote) should brighten.
So, too, should his disposition – eventually, at least.
"I won't be in a good mood," he says, "until I'm in Hawaii."