The end all: by not worrying about sacks, Michael Strahan has become the NFL's most complete and dominant defensive lineman and is bull-rushing toward the season sacks record.

12/10/2001
By Dennis Dillon

When it comes to collecting cars, Michael Strahan doesn't skimp on quality. His fleet includes a 1992 Mercedes 500 SEL, a Porsche Turbo, a 1998 Bentley Continental T coupe and his personal favorite, a limited edition, 1990 "arrest-me-red" Lamborghini truck powered by a V-12 engine. "It looks like a Hummer on steroids," says Strahan.

But on this Wednesday afternoon in the middle of the Giants' open week, Strahan drives into the parking lot of a restaurant a few minutes from the Meadowlands and unfurls his 6-5, 275-pound frame from a 1993 silver Toyota Supra whose odometer reads 190,000-plus. The vehicle was his first major purchase after the Giants drafted him in the second round in '93.

"All the guys are telling me to get rid of it," he says, "but that car and I have memories. We've been together a long time. It runs great, and it's reliable."

Runs great. Reliable. Just like its driver.

Strahan, who is in his ninth NFL season and recently turned 30, has a lot of football miles on his body. Yet he is the most dominating defensive lineman in the league, a total package who can shut down both the run and the pass from his left end position. Most teams are righthanded, which means they run to their right. But Giants opponents often run the other way--away from Strahan, who still is the team's third-leading tackler. And with a league-leading 15 1/2 sacks, he is threatening to break Mark Gastineau's season record of 22.

The sack has been both a blessing and a curse for Strahan. New York Giants fans expect him to get sacks like San Francisco Giants fans expect Barry Bonds to hit home runs. But like homers, sacks often come in bunches. Strahan had a combined 29 sacks in 1997 and '98 but only 5 1/2 in '99, when he had a slew of injuries. This season, he had no sacks in his first two games, then 12 1/2 in his next five, including a four-sack explosion October 14 against the Rams.

"Sacks are very highly overrated," Strahan says, between bites of grilled chicken salad. "The sacks I've got this year, half of them I've just been in the right place at the right time. It's not like I did anything super. But there have been some years where I've done some unbelievable things, and I haven't gotten them.

"That's why I stopped getting hung up on that. To me, I want to be a more disruptive player. That's been my mind-set the last few years."

On a wall inside the defensive line's meeting room at Giants Stadium hangs a grease board that line coach Denny Marcin uses to record various statistics. One category is called "ratio." Strahan's name is listed first, with a 4.5 next to it.

"That means that for every 4.5 plays he's in, he's made a tackle, an assist, a sack, batted a ball, got a hit on a quarterback, pressured the quarterback, caused a fumble or recovered a fumble," says Marcin. "That's outstanding."

That's disruptive. At a stage in his career when some players become complacent or even break down, Strahan is playing at a peak-performance level. There are three reasons:

1. Back to hls roots. Strahan played with a finesse style in the first two games this season and tried to beat his opponents with speed. When that produced no sacks, he decided to go back to his power game, which was instilled in him during his rookie season by former Giants defensive line coach Earl Leggett. "That's my bread and butter," he says.

Strahan is most effective when he bull-rushes. Even though he's going against offensive tackles who outweigh him by 30 to 50 pounds, he gets great leverage by bending his knees and exploding up under them, driving his hands into their chests. With his powerful legs churning, Strahan drives them back toward the quarterback, then uses his long arms to chuck them aside with a rip or a swim move.

"He's definitely a challenging opponent," says Redskins right offensive tackle Jon Jansen. "He does a lot of things well, and he plays the whole game with a high motor."

But Strahan doesn't use only power, just like Roger Clemens doesn't throw only fastballs. Sometimes, a curve is more effective.

"I can bull-rush for three quarters, then finally hit a finesse move in the fourth quarter that I've been setting up the whole time," he says. "It's like chess. You keep on trying to set up a move until you can yell, `Checkmate.'"

2. At the ready. Because so much of his repertoire is power, Strahan doesn't feel comfortable going into a game unless he has worked at least three days in the weight room that week. He lifts on Wednesday with the Giants' "small" guys (non-linemen), on Thursday with his own group and again on Friday, an optional day.

His work ethic extends into the classroom. Often, when the defensive line meeting breaks up, Strahan will ask Marcin to leave the video equipment on. He'll stay and watch tape for another hour or two for tendencies, tip-offs and tics--subtle signs that might reveal the opponent's strategy.

Strahan also studies other ends--even after three trips to the Pro Bowl. "I'm always trying to steal something from another guy if it's something I can incorporate into the way I play," he says. "I don't feel like I can't learn from somebody else."

Even from a novice. Last year, when he was preparing for his postseason battle against Eagles tackle Jon Runyan, a foe against whom he already had squared off twice, Strahan picked up some tips by watching Browns rookie Courtney Brown attack Runyan. Strahan had three solo tackles, two sacks and a forced fumble in the Giants' playoff win over the Eagles, and he credits Brown with contributing to his success.

3. A change of attitude. Coming off seasons of 14 and 15 sacks in 1997 and '98 and back-to-back trips to the Pro Bowl, Strahan was awarded with a long-term contract worth $8 million per year by the Giants. Life seemed good. Then, suddenly, his career hit its nadir.

During the '99 season, he suffered two hyperextended elbows, a pulled quadriceps, a separated shoulder joint, and wrist and thumb injuries that both required offseason surgeries. Then there was a burst cyst in his left knee that caused Strahan such excruciating pain he nearly passed out at a restaurant in Manhattan one night.

On top of all that, Strahan was chastised by Jim Fassel for some critical remarks he had made about the Giants' coach. And the stories about Strahan in the New York papers were less than flattering.

"Nobody wanted to hear about injuries. They wanted to hear about production," he says. "I was miserable. Miserable."

Misery begot bitterness, which Strahan admittedly carried into the 2000 season. Finally, one night his wife, Jean, addressed the situation when she gave Michael a combination pep talk and kick in the butt.

Her message was basically this: When I first met you, you loved playing football. Now, you're not having fun. Everybody else's opinion doesn't matter. You know what you put into it and what you're trying to accomplish. Just go out and have fun.

"When she did that," says Strahan, "a light clicked on. Ever since then, I've been playing the best football I've ever played."

Strahan also has gained a new perspective on football. He now realizes that it is a privilege, not an inalienable right, to play in the NFL. What he appreciates most is the camaraderie.

That is why before each game, he follows the same ritual: Wearing a headset and listening to R&B singer Mary J. Blige's "Family Affair," Strahan walks around the locker room and shakes the hand or taps the shoulder of teammates, coaches, trainers, doctors, equipment managers--anyone associated with the Giants.

"I just feel like I've got to touch and get a piece of everybody," he says, "because, to me, I'm making myself accountable to them and I'm playing for them. I'm not playing for myself."

Strahan doesn't always get around to everyone. "I'm not going to go into a stall in the toilet and shake a hand," he says, laughing.

Strahan took a circuitous route to the NFL. Born in Houston, he was a military brat--his father was a U.S. Army major--whose family moved to Mannheim, Germany, when Michael was 9. He didn't play organized football in Germany. In fact, he didn't do much at all athletically until he was 13 and his older brothers started calling him "Bob."

"That stood for `booty on back,'" Strahan says. "You know--where your butt's so high you can reach over your shoulder and grab your wallet."

Strahan decided to lose the nickname. He started working out to Jane Fonda's exercise tapes. He bought Herschel Walker's book and did push-ups and sit-ups. He rode his bike to his dad's office and they exercised together at lunchtime, or at night in a gym. In the summer, Strahan and his dad would get up at 5:30 a.m. and go for five-mile runs in the woods.

"My dad pushed me, and I fell for it," says Strahan. "He always said, `One day, this is going to pay off.' I don't know if he had a vision or just knew."

Gene Strahan had a plan. In the summer of 1988, before Michael's senior year of high school, Gene sent his son back to Houston to live with Art Strahan, Gene's brother, so that Michael could play football and try to earn a college scholarship. Michael played one season for Houston's Westbury High, stayed around long enough to sign a letter-of-intent to attend Texas Southern, then high-tailed it out of town.

"After the first half of the school year was over, I was on the first plane smokin' out of Texas," Strahan says, laughing. "I was like a mercenary sent in to do something. I went in, did my job and got out."

Strahan went back to Germany and finished high school at the Mannheim Christian Academy, a small private school. "I graduated in a class of two," he says, "and I was not valedictorian."

At Texas Southern, he played football sparingly as a freshman, and his initial experience in college left him feeling homesick. When other students went home for Thanksgiving, Strahan was left alone in his dorm. His parents couldn't afford to fly him back to Germany. "When I packed up to go home for Christmas, I took the light bulbs out of the lamps because I wasn't coming back," says Strahan.

Toward the end of Christmas break, Gene asked Michael if he shouldn't be getting back to school. Michael said he wasn't going back; he had decided to remain in Germany and work for his father, who by then had retired from the Army and owned a transport company. The look on his father's face told Michael that wasn't part of the plan.

"Right then, a light bulb clicked on," Michael says. "I thought, `Your mom and dad aren't going to take care of you forever. If you're going to go back to play football, try to be the best at it. Don't be satisfied with being just another player.'"

At first, Strahan didn't know anything about playing defensive end. He used a Street & Smith's college preview magazine as an introductory textbook. "It said, `This guy is known for getting sacks. He's a defensive end. This is what his size is.' That was like my barometer that I used to know what I needed to do."

He became a quick study. By the time Strahan left Texas Southern, he owned the school record for sacks (41 1/2), including 19 as a senior.

Strahan has a chance to knock down an NFL record that has stood since 1984. Three of the Giants' final five games are against the Cowboys, Cardinals and Eagles--NFC East opponents whom they already have played once. If Strahan can match the number of sacks (4 1/2) he had in the first meetings against those teams, he will need a total of 2 1/2 in the other two games, against the Seahawks and Packers.

It won't be easy. This season, Strahan has faced more double-teams and, in some cases, triple-teams than at any time in his career. If it's not a tackle-guard tandem, it's a tackle and a tight end, or a tight end on the line and a back chipping before he runs a pass route. The gaps Strahan has had to shoot through have seemed smaller than the one between his two front teeth.

"It's like Pavarotti & Friends," he says. "Pavarotti isn't on that CD all by himself. He has a lot of help to make sure it's successful. And that's what it really is. It's like right tackle and friends."

What will Strahan do if he breaks Gastineau's record? Do a dance? Run a celebratory lap around the field? Demand a new contract?

"If I get it," he says, "I'm going to get up off the ground, get back in the huddle and try to get No. 24. Why celebrate No. 23? That may not be the end."

When it comes to collecting sacks, Strahan doesn't skimp on quantity.

E-mail senior writer Dennis Dillon at ddillon@sportingnews.com.

COPYRIGHT 2001 Sporting News Publishing Co.

COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group

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