Bully player fails team, sport by his behavior

On Nov. 23, 1986, at Soldier Field in Chicago, defensive lineman Charles Martin made me ashamed to be a Packers fan. He showed up for the Bears game with a towel flaunting the jersey numbers of selected Bears he had ostensibly targeted. Any sensible fan thought it was nothing more than juvenile, playground posturing. Nope.

Seemingly a day and a half after Bears quarterback Jim McMahon released the ball downfield, Punk Martin sauntered up behind McMahon, grabbed him around the waist, lifted him off the ground and did his best imitation of a WWF body slam. Except Soldier Field isn’t covered with a forgiving canvas. At that time, the Bears were still stupid enough to be playing on AstroT urf. Which is to say they were playing on concrete. Martin’s cheap shot cost McMahon a season-ending shoulder injury.

Personal foul. Fifteen yards. Martin was ejected and then suspended for two games.

I was ashamed to wear the cheese. Yes, I’m a Packers fan, but I’m first and foremost an NFL fan. A football fan. A fan of competitive sports and great athletes. As a basketball player, I was known for defense. Being physical. Mouthy. Pesky. Cheating when I could get away with it — holding the seam of your uniform, grabbing your wrist when you tried to push off from me, etc.

But never, not once, was I a dirty player. Never, not once, did I try to hurt someone. I wasn’t raised that way. There is no place in sports for dirty play. Celebration, ecstasy, joy — yes! Taunting, hot-dogging — no! One of my favorite things about watching old Packers films is watching wide receivers Boyd Dowler and Carroll Dale lope into the end zone with a Bart Starr touchdown pass, turn in one motion to casually flip the ball to the referee with no more drama than you’d hand a tip to the valet, then head to the bench to shake hands, slap backs and butts and sit down.

I know — I’m old and ridiculous. But I just have this thing for class, especially class under fire.

Which brings me to Thanksgiving Day, the Detroit Lions and defensive tackle Ndamukong Suh . I can just hear his high school cheerleading squad: “Give me an ‘N!’ ” And the crowd would shout “N!” “Give me a ‘D!’ ” And the crowd would shout, “Huh?”

Suh sells us an image of himself as playing with an “iNdamu tible” spirit of fire and passion. Up until Thanksgiving Day, that fire and passion has cost him more than $40,000 in fines and earned him his peers’ vote for NFL’s dirtiest player. Funny, in the ’60s, Packers guard Jerry Kramer and Lions defensive tackle Alex Karras had blood and guts wars unimaginable, saying things to each other in the trenches that would peel paint. But somehow they contained their fire and passion for blocking, tackling and profanity.

I’m saying that Jerry and Alex were men, a mantle still awaiting Suh .

Last I saw Suh , he was pounding Packers guard Evan Dietrich-Smith’s head into the artificial turf of the Detroit Lions Wussy Dome soccer field. He then punctuated his point by stomping on the arm of the prone lineman.

Personal foul. Fifteen yards. Suh was ejected and then suspended for two games. His fire and passion take a hike into the Michigan winter. Sort of his own impression of the INdamu kible Snowman.

(Yes, as a matter of fact, I did write this entire column just to have the opportunity to type that particular play on words.)

After the game, Suh , believing that every last man, woman and child in America was both blind and brain- damaged, said to the press — with a straight face, mind you — that all of us, including the referees, had misunderstood his behavior. That the tape clearly shows his efforts merely to pull away from the pile to avoid the conflict. He agreed he “put his foot down forcefully ” but insisted that’s different than a stomp.

The next day, he t weeted to the world that, having had some more time to reflect on recent events, that, yes, he might have been a world-class little boy idiot who lost his temper. I think that’s the closest that Dietrich-Smith is going to get to “I’m suhrry.”

Grow up, Suh . You’re a gifted, brilliant athlete. When those attributes are wielded by a man, the NFL will be a better place for everyone.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of “Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing” (Stephens Press). His columns also appear on Sundays in the Las Vegas Review-Journal. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.