STAINLESS - Ben Roethlisberger
TURN IT ON - BEN ROETHLISBERGER'S COOL FIRE IS JUST ONE EXAMPLE OF HOW THE NFL'S PLAYOFF STUDS IGNITE THEIR TEAMS.
Ben Roethlisberger flipped the switch on the 7-yard line inside Texas Stadium. It was Oct. 17, his fourth NFL start. The Steelers faced a third down while trailing the Cowboys 20-10 with 11:54 remaining in the game. For more than three quarters, Bill Parcells had tormented Roethlisberger with relentless pressure, throwing everything but his headset at the rookie. After three sacks and countless knockdowns, Roethlisberger's right knee throbbed and his right ankle was swollen. Sensing the kid might crack, the home crowd rose to its feet just as he sunk under center.
Roethlisberger checked to see how wide Cowboys safety Roy Williams was playing. He scanned the defensive line and saw tackle La'Roi Glover inches away, ready to spring. He glanced at the play clock, which was ticking below 15 seconds and began barking out his signals. "I was, literally, in the middle of my cadence when the thought hit me," Roethlisberger says. "This could be one of those instant classics you see on TV. How awesome would that be?' Maybe it's not good to be thinking that at that exact moment, but that's how I clear my head. I think, 'This isn't pressure, this is a chance to do something cool.'"
The preternaturally calm Roethlisberger dropped back and did just that, gunning a touchdown pass to tight end Jerame Tuman in the back of the end zone. He'd complete his final 11 passes – converting 21 of 25 for 193 yards, with 2 TDs and a 125.5 passer rating – as the Steelers stormed back to win, 24-20. Bill Cowher says that's when the 22-year-old Roethlisberger grew up, took over the team and turned the Steelers into contenders. "I know he's a kid,"says Hines Ward. "But the look on his face that day was like he had done it 100 times before."
The only test remaining for Roethlisberger's "unflappableness," as Cowher calls it, was how the rookie would react when he finally played like a rookie. It happened during the Steelers' 20-17, overtime win over the Jets in the AFC playoffs. Late in the fourth quarter of a tie game, after throwing his second pick, Roethlisberger yelled to members of the Steelers defense, "I owe you one," as he passed them coming off the field. While the quarterback stood on the sideline, Cowher checked on him. Offensive coordinator Ken Whisenhunt checked on him. But even though he'd misplaced his passing fundamentals, Roethlisberger never lost his cool.
Backed up at his own 13-yard line in overtime, Roethlisberger acted like he had thrown for 400 yards. "One drive, for everything," he said in the Steelers' huddle. "Jerome. Line. Receivers. It's up to us. Let's go." Roethlisberger then completed three of his final four passes, including a 17-yarder to Hines Ward on third and six that got the Steelers to midfield. Less than six minutes later, Jeff Reed's 33-yard field goal put Pittsburgh in the AFC title game.
Afterward, Roethlisberger could have defended himself to the media by pointing to his steady OT performance or the game-tying, fourth-quarter shovel pass to Ward that they had practiced only once before. Instead he poked fun at his burgeoning reputation. 'I approached this game like any other. Maybe I shouldn't have," he said. "Maybe next week, I should be more stressed or nervous."
Staying cool under pressure has always been a trademark of the best quarterbacks. Think Joe Montana at the end of Super Bowl XXIII, pointing out John Candy from the huddle during the game-winning drive. Think John Elway, with 98 yards to go and 5:32 left in the 1986 AFC title game in Cleveland. Or think Tom Brady's last-minute marches to victory in Super Bowls XXXVI and XXXVIII. What you don't think is a kid daydreaming his way to victory in his fourth week on the job. "If you went through sports psychology departments across the country, you'd hear people talking about Ben," says Geoff Miller, a partner in the San Diego consulting group Winning Mind. "He's changed what people thought was possible for a rookie quarterback."
For good reason. No rook has ever led his team to a Super Bowl, but Roethlisberger is as good a bet as any. He is the first quarterback to win Rookie of the Year honors, and the first to start his career with 13 straight regular-season wins. His 66.4 completion percentage shattered Dan Marino's rookie record of 58.5, and his 98.1 QB rating broke Marino's rookie mark of 96. "What he's done," says Whisenhunt, "is really quite staggering."
Especially since he wasn't expected to play at all. The 11th overall pick out of Miami of Ohio, Roethlisberger was considered a project. At 6'5" and 241 pounds, he had size, but coming from a small school, he didn't present as NFL-ready. Then Tommy Maddox injured his right elbow on Sept. 19 against the Ravens. The next week, Roethlisberger won his first start in Miami while throwing into Hurricane Jeanne. Three weeks later came the Dallas win. After the Steelers' bye week, he hung a 126.4 passer rating on Bill Belichick's D, ending the Pats' 21-game winning streak with a 34-20 win. The next week, he beat the blitz-happy Eagles for 2 TDs in a 27-3 blowout.
Nice numbers all. But it's what Roethlisberger did Nov. 28 at Washington that left teammates marveling at his demeanor. Early in the fourth quarter, Pittsburgh clung to a 13-7 lead as Roethlisberger -- who completed just nine passes that day -- was enduring his worst game as a pro. The wind was gusting to 23 mph; the windchill had dropped into the high 20s. With the Steelers struggling, Roethlisberger walked into the huddle and...whistled. Jerome Bettis listened for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes at his teammates as if to say, get a load of the kid. What was he whistling? "I don't know," Roethlisberger says. "It might have been 'Jingle Bells.'"
Whatever the tune, the Steelers got an early Christmas present. The drive ended with a field goal, the final points in a 16-7 win.
On a clear, cold day in December, Roethlisberger sits in the second floor lobby of the Steelers' practice facility, a leg draped over the arm of a black leather chair. He unzips his gray sweat suit top to reveal a T-shirt that reads: REVOLUTION.
On first glance, maybe. Roethlisberger has prototype size. And he's got a throwing motion so perfectly fluid, so mechanically flawless, that one NFL scout swore he heard music whenever Big Ben let the rock fly. Nonetheless, you'd have to describe Roethlisberger's overall build -- more meat than muscle -- as, well, lumpy. Same with his overall game. He has quick feet, but he's no Michael Vick. He's smart, but he's no Steve Young. He's a leader, but he's no Joe Namath.
What is revolutionary is the freon pumping through his veins. It's as if he were born with the kind of nerves most quarterbacks need years to develop. "I've always had a sense of calmness," Roethlisberger says. "I've been surrounded by it my whole life. It's a tribute to my dad, the most cool, calm and collected person I know."
Ken Roethlisberger, a former quarterback and shortstop at Georgia Tech, and his wife, Brenda, live 45 minutes south of Toledo, in Findlay, Ohio. Their modest ranch home just off Main Street is filled with family portraits. A pie hutch and an upright piano take up most of the cozy living room. Their chocolate Labrador, Casey, is usually scratching at the backdoor, and Ben's basketball hoop still stands in the driveway. But life wasn't always this idyllic.
Ken and Ida Roethlisberger, Ben's mom, divorced when their son was 18 months old. Ken got sole custody of the boy, with Ida getting Ben every other weekend. Father and son lived on their own until Ken married Brenda, when Ben was four. Then, one summer night in 1990, 8-year-old Ben was shooting baskets while he waited for Ida to pick him up. He'd shoot, then sit on the curb for a while and wait. Minutes piled into hours. The sky turned dark. He heard the phone ring.Ida, it turned out, had been in a horrific car crash. For several weeks she was kept alive by machines, before her family gave up hope and turned them off. Through it all, Ken provided stability and routine for Ben. In fact, says Brenda, Ken focused on his son as if they had only each other. "That time had a profound effect on Ben," says Brenda, whom Ben calls Mom. "His dad was so composed and collected, he became Ben's hero. That's whom he began to pattern himself after."
As Ben grew older, that inner calm manifested itself most dramatically on the football field. During his senior year at Findlay High, he threw for 6 TDs in his first start. Miami of Ohio offered him a scholarship the following day. In Oxford, Roethlisberger broke every RedHawks single-season passing record as a freshman. He was an honorable mention All-America as a sophomore. Midway through his junior season, the RedHawks were 6-1 and averaging 40 points a game when they came up flat against MAC doormat Kent State. Trailing 27-24 with 10:14 to play, Miami coach Terry Hoeppner huddled up his offense on the bench. The players stared in dazed silence. The coaches were catatonic. "Our dream season ending and I'm puckered,"says Hoeppner. "I'm frozen, at a total loss, and then here comes Ben."
Roethlisberger pushed his helmet up and said, "Coach, guys, watch this." And he winked.
"Can you believe that?" says Hoeppner, now the coach at Indiana. "He winked at me!"
Roethlisberger took the field and led the RedHawks on scoring drives of 80 and 52 yards, as Miami pulled out a 38-30 win. The RedHawks won their next six games, finishing the season 131 and ranked No. 10 in the AP poll.
After beating Louisville 49-28 in the GMAC Bowl, Roethlisberger announced he was leaving school early. Scouts knew he had impressive numbers, good size and a funny name. But when the Chargers came to visit, they saw throws that cut through 40 mph winds with ease. Giants GM Ernie Accorsi watched a Roethlisberger highlights video that Hoeppner sent him, and called the coach raving. "Oh my god," Accorsi said. "This is unbelievable." Then Tom Coughlin got on the phone and said, "We hope to see Ben soon."
On draft day, though, Accorsi went for pedigree over potential, selecting Philip Rivers and trading him to the Chargers for Eli Manning. Hoeppner was sitting in the greenroom with Roethlisberger and his family when he heard the news, whereupon he chucked his cell phone onto a table and knocked over a bottle of water. Then the 57-year-old coach looked at Roethlisberger, who was, of course, completely chill. "It's backwards," Hoeppner, says. "But Ben has always had a calming effect on me."
Pittsburgh, meanwhile, didn't hesitate when its turn was called. During predraft interviews with Roethlisberger, they discovered a humble kid willing to subjugate himself to a system. And even back in April, the Steelers knew they had a winning formula: Pro Bowl-caliber wideouts, a great line, a Duce Staley-Jerome Bettis backfield to carry the offense and, with the return of coordinator Dick LeBeau, a defense that was going to confuse opponents. But no system is totally QB-proof. Some games inevitably come down to the man with the ball. That's when the Steelers discovered what everyone in Findlay and Oxford already knew: they had a player confident enough to improvise, convert and keep crucial drives alive.
On Dec. 5, with Pittsburgh trailing Jacksonville by two and just 1:55 to play, Roethlisberger moved the Steelers 56 yards in 1:37, setting up the game-winning field goal. On one first-down from his own 42, Roethlisberger scrambled to the right before completing an 18-yard pass to Lee Mays. When most righthanded QBs are chased out of the pocket, they lock their left hand in place in front of their body, palm vertical and fingers taut. It's a physical tell of stress, like a facial tic in poker. But every time Roethlisberger rolled out on that final drive, his left hand just wagged carelessly in the wind, like Michael Jordan's tongue. After the game, Staley just shook his head in wonder. "The poise of that guy," Staley said. "I've never seen anything like it."
It was well after midnight by the time Roethlisberger shuffled out of the Steelers locker room toward the team bus. Dressed in a baggy brown suit, Roethlisberger passed underneath a digital clock mounted on the wall that was counting down the time until Super Bowl XXXIX. To the veterans on the team, acutely aware that Pittsburgh has been waiting 25 years for that fifth Lombardi, the clock pulsated with pressure. Many snuck a quick glance before climbing into the bus.
Not Ben. He marched right past it.