In one hand, Bill Romanowski is carrying a large jug full of a liquid that could be water. Do we have anyone here who would be willing to steal a sample? Someone willing to take a taste test? One brave soul? Didn’t think so.
In his other hand, Romanowski is carrying the sort of compartmentalized case that might hold fishing lures. But this case contains pills, lots and lots of pills. Black pills, white pills, yellow pills, red pills–a United Nations of pills. There must be more than 500 of them.
He could be a pharmaceutical rep or he could be Hunter S. Thompson or he could be in a whole lot of trouble.
“Vitamins,” he says. “I know everything they do for me. Everything I do has a purpose.”
It could be that toying with the world is one of them. How many people, after being acquitted of illegally obtaining an appetite suppressant 18 months ago, would show up at a Super Bowl media session looking like the black-market supplier to Gold’s Gym of Russia? Romanowski would.
“He hasn’t gotten busted, so it must be all legal,” Oakland Raiders teammate Tim Brown said. “That’s all we care about.”
Romanowski has finally landed in his spiritual home, Raiderville, where drooling is encouraged, pillaging is considered a natural pastime and no one cares what you do, as long as it leads to victories. Even if you’re crazy enough to spend more than $100,000 a year on supplements, as Romanowski does. Even if most of the NFL hates your very healthy guts.
Romanowski is that rare confluence of strange and violent. This is Dennis Hopper as linebacker.
This is a man who brings a portable hyperbaric chamber with him to training camp every year so that more oxygen can be introduced to his system. This is a man who has his stool analyzed so he can be sure he is getting the right balance of vitamins and minerals.
Most of us eat Pop Tarts and hope for the best.
“I do so many different things that I don’t know exactly how much each one does,” he said. “I just do them, and I know it works.”
This is the Picasso of cheap-shot artists, all bent fingers and twisted limbs.
Romanowski won’t change his ways, and four Super Bowl rings–two from San Francisco and two from Denver–tell him he’s right. If the Raiders beat the Tampa Bay Buccaneers on Sunday, Romanowski will tie former Cowboy and 49er Charles Haley for the most by one player, five. He is sneaky, underhanded and dirty, and your point is?
Go ahead and hate him. He doesn’t care.
If he cared what anyone thought of him, he probably wouldn’t have spit in J.J. Stokes’ face in a Monday night game five years ago. But there he was on that fateful night, working up a spectacular gob of saliva and spraying the San Francisco wide receiver in the face on national television. America recoiled at the sight of a loogie flying in slow-motion replays.
The fact that Stokes is black and Romanowski white instantly ascribed racial overtones to the incident. Romanowski didn’t care.
If he cared what anyone thought of him, Romanowski wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt people. He says he doesn’t know where the line is that separates aggression from dirty play. He has the fines to prove his ignorance.
“I play very angry,” he said. “It’s an all-week process that builds up for that particular team. I don’t like who I’m playing against. And you know what? I’m sure they don’t like me.”
Romanowski was made for the Raiders, but that didn’t become truly apparent until he brought his act to Oakland from Denver. Broncos coach Mike Shanahan couldn’t guarantee Romanowski would be a starter. Romanowski called Raiders owner Al Davis.
It was at this point you thought, Yeah, of course. Makes total sense. Romanowski the Raider.
The Raiders hated him until he became one of them.
“I would have crossed the street if I had seen him,” Brown said.
“Yeah, he’s dirty,” Raiders running back Charlie Garner acknowledged. “I’ve played against him. Bill takes his shots when he can, but that’s football. A lot of guys are taking their shots out there. They’re pinching at your private areas. They’re pulling your fingers, they’re stomping on your fingers.
“But he’s no worse than anyone else.”
No, he’s better than everyone else.
“Some people call me dirty,” Romanowski said. “A lot of people don’t like me. I guess if I wasn’t any good, they wouldn’t say anything about me. I don’t really pay attention to that.”
He doesn’t have time. He devotes three to four hours each day to what he calls “body work”–stretching, chiropractic adjustments and acupuncture, among other things.
Funny thing. He’s so healthy it’s sick.
