The Last Dance: Excerpt From An Upcoming Book

In the year 2000, I asked the team that I loved to let me go. I was the Franchise Player, a leader on the team, and one of the highest-paid players in the NFL. But I was unhappy – Heartbroken is a better description.

My defensive line coach, since I was a kid attending Berkeley High and CAL Berkeley’s summer football camp, was Rod Marinelli. He quickly became like a father to me. He later coached me in college at CAL and followed me into the NFL as my defensive line coach with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Essentially, my entire football career since high school featured Rod Marinelli as my defensive line coach.

Towards the end of the 2000 season, a random chance encounter occurred while walking down a hallway at One Buc Place football facility, which became a traumatic turning point in my football life:

“Hey, Coach!” – I said as I passed.
“Hey, Chidi!” – Coach Marinelli said in return.

But then, out of nowhere, Coach said to me:

“Listen. I want you to stay out of Warren’s way when you’re pass rushing.” – I couldn’t believe it.

Startled, confused, and quite frankly insulted, I managed to stammer back a response:

“Um, okay, Coach. But what exactly does that mean? What do you want me to do exactly?”

His response furthered the perplexity of the situation as he snapped angrily: “Just stay out of his way!”

“We parted ways leaving an awkward air of silence in our wake.”

This chance encounter with Coach Marinelli in the halls of One Buc was not only very odd and unsettling for many reasons, it broke my heart as well. In all my years being coached by Marinelli, he had never yelled at me like that – EVER. On the field? YES, by all means. But off the field? NO, never, ever. He had been that patient, father-like figure, who knew how to yell at you to get the most out of you on the field but would talk to you with the gentle guiding hands off the field. But not this day, and I admit, I was hurt. It hurt me because not only was I being assaulted verbally by the man I considered my father figure, but my pride as a football player, a pass rusher leader, and a warrior took a serious blow that day. “Stay out of Warren’s way!”

“Just stay out of his way!”

His words haunted me.

What was I supposed to do? Just stand there when the other team is passing the ball? So I’m considered to be useless as a pass rusher, now?

Up to this point, I had one of the few double-digit QB sack years in Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ history, and if QB pressures and QB hits were a valued statistic back in my day, I was certainly at the tops of the NFL in that category. But now I was being yelled at by my father figure – in some random hallway encounter – to stay out of the way.

Out of Warren Sapp’s way…

Not knowing what else to do, I began to simply run upfield during passing plays, and pretty much just stand there. At times, I would run upfield, and instead of standing there, I’d juke back and forth a bit peeking around the offensive tackle, so I could see what the QB was doing and what Sapp was doing. I was thinking that maybe there’d be a chance to peel off and make a play if Sapp chased him to me, or something.

After weeks of employing this type of pass rush technique in the games, who of all people decide to rudely confront me in the locker room in front of everyone? Warren Sapp. Warren came to my locker and began mocking me. He began to shimmy and juke, imitating reluctantly implemented pass rushing of late. Then in front of everyone, Warren blurts out a loud, “You SUCK!”

This encounter would be the beginning of the locker room fistfight, which unfolded weeks after this incident. The bombardment of continual insults in front of my teammates, lead me to my boiling point and finally coming to blows with Warren Sapp. I was literally trying to take his head off with my fists.

At the end of the season, I had enough.

I was now a single father of two baby boys under the age of two, in an ugly heated custody battle with their mother, who decided to file during the middle of my football season even though, I had been providing a huge house in a plush, security guarded gated community, a Range Rover, and money for anything she needed. All without a judge having to force me to do it. I was coming to work, being attacked by my coach Marinelli, being insulted, publicly humiliated, and ostracized by my teammate and partner on the battlefield, Warren Sapp. I asked my agent Eugene Parker to tell the Buccaneers to release me or trade me. GM Rich McKay didn’t want to do it, but I insisted. Rich asked my agent to request that I sit down and speak with Rod Marinelli at least before we do something so rash. I refused. I knew if I sat down with Coach, he would convince me to stay. He knew me so well – since high school – there was no way I’d be able to face him and walk away from the Bucs. Walking away was hard enough. So I walked away never haven spoken to any coaches, or teammates and no coaches, or teammate ever reached out to me. Ever. Eight long years as Tampa Bay Buccaneer, fighting for the team and the Tampa community ended as nothing but a memory. But hey! That’s show business!!!

Written by Undisclosed