Castaways land on Giants' O-line
 
Garber: Cross, Parker recall Super Bowl XXV
 

Sixteenth season turns sweet for Brown
By Wayne Drehs


EAST RUTHERFORD, N.J. -- After Super Bowl XXXV, Giants tackle Lomas Brown will be one of just a handful of people who can compare the vaunted defenses of the '85 Bears and the 2000 Ravens -- based on experience.

Lomas Brown
After 16 seasons, Giants tackle Lomas Brown is finally going to the Super Bowl.

That's how long this 37-year-old man, who still carries the smile and charm of a fresh-faced rookie, has been around. Through 16 NFL seasons, he's stared at the chilling eyes of Mike Singletary, felt the physical power of William Perry and listened to the barking howls of Richard Dent.

He's a seven-time Pro Bowler who's played on four different teams. Yet it was an unremarkable trip to New York, to play for the Giants, which has given him the grandest gift of all -- a trip to the Super Bowl.

"It took me so long to get to this point, it was something I thought would never happen," said Brown, who's still beaming from last week's dominating NFC Championship victory. "I mean, gosh, man. That's all I can say is, 'Gosh.' You can just put 'Gosh.' Lomas just said, 'Gosh.' "

That warm fuzzy feeling doesn't appear to be going away anytime soon. Earlier this week, the back page of the New York Post featured a giant photo of Brown with the words, "We're Destined to Win" splashed next to the picture. The words weren't meant as an insult to Baltimore, it's just the way Brown feels.

Indeed, if the Giants are destiny's darlings, then Brown is Cinderella.

"I'm not trying to say anything to light any fires, we still have to go out there and do it," Brown said in his comforting tone, a soothing blend of Bill Cosby and James Earl Jones. "But those are my feelings. That's how I feel."

The emotions of reaching the Super Bowl were evident against the Vikings when Brown, who suffered a back injury early in the game, refused to sit out the second half despite the urgings of his teammates and coaches.

"Lomas, don't do it," defensive end Michael Strahan said at halftime.

"Don't drown in this lake -- we've got a bigger one to go to next time," added fellow offensive lineman Glenn Parker.

But Brown didn't listen. He even stood up to coach Jim Fassel.

"He came to me at halftime and just started begging me," Fassel said. "And all year when he would question things I'd say to him, "Do you trust me? So I told him to sit down this time and he says, 'Coach, do you trust me?' He just wanted it so bad. The Super Bowl is all that's left for him."

Brown, who confessed that he shed a few tears in the second half, needed to be all but forced off the Giants Stadium field after the game. He just stood there, staring at the 41-0 score frozen in the giant scoreboard lights.

"That was a game I had been waiting a lot of years for," Brown said. "I could have watched from the sidelines, but I didn't want to celebrate that way. I wanted to fill my mind with every memory I can get, because you just never know."

That was a game I had been waiting a lot of years for. I could have watched from the sidelines, but I didn't want to celebrate that way. I wanted to fill my mind with every memory I can get, because you just never know.
Lomas Brown

It means so much because Brown had never gotten this close. As a member of the Lions in 1991, he played against the Redskins in the NFC Championship, but the Lions were destroyed in that game 41-10. That was it for championship games and Lomas Brown.

For the past 15 seasons, he's spent Super Bowl Sunday with his closest friends, watching the game on TV and stuffing his face with plenty of good food.

"The ribs, barbecue ribs," Brown said. "A little baked beans. Potato salad. I've got to do it soul-food style. That's how we normally do it. We watch the game and just enjoy it. And then you get to see all the commercials. I'm telling you, I got the routine down. I've been doing this for 15 years, so I got it down."

This year, there will be no Super Bowl party at the Brown household. It's been transported to Tampa, a long ways from Detroit, where Brown played 11 years, Phoenix, where he played for four season or Cleveland, where he played last year.

When Cleveland released Brown last spring, the experience left such a bitter taste in his mouth, that he almost quit the game altogether. Until Fassel and Giants GM Ernie Accorsi called, that is. Looking for help not only on the line, but in the locker room as well, they convinced Brown that New York was the place for him.

"I was hesitant to come here, especially with the way things worked out in Cleveland," Brown said. "But I never questioned my ability, that wasn't the problem. I think it was just a personality clash."

Nothing could be further from the case now. Not only has Brown successfully protected the blindside of Kerry Collins, anchoring a line that has gelled despite three 2000 additions, he's become almost a folk hero in the locker room. Everyone teases him about his age and he fires back with comments about the wild tattoos and crazy hairstyles of the younger guys. It's done in fun, and has been an integral part of the Giants' team unity.

"I do believe this is a team of destiny because so many things have come together," said Brown. "Me and Hammer (linebacker Keith Hamilton) talk about that all the time. I'm the oldest guy, Hammer is younger, he is always stand-offish, why were we able to click? Why do these things happen?"

Brown and Hamilton, the two unlikeliest of friends, forged a bond in training camp and now run the treadmill together every morning. During that span there's plenty of teasing, especially when the topic turns to the fight over jersey No. 75. Brown, who wore 75 for the majority of his career, switched to 76 when he came to the Giants, just to avoid a confrontation with the difficult Hamilton.

"When he signed, one of the equipment guys told me he wanted 75 and I was like, 'What? OK, I'm going to have to fight this guy.' I got all swollen up to defend (myself), and it wasn't even an issue. Lomas said he didn't care. It made me feel kind of stupid.

"But that's the way he is. And to see how much it meant to him (after the Vikings game), to finally get to the Super Bowl, that was one of the best feelings in the world."

But not the ultimate. That would be winning the Super Bowl. And standing in the way is a Ravens team whose defense is drawing constant comparisons to the '85 Monsters of the Midway. Are the comparisons justified?

"Though the schemes are different, the results are very similar," Brown said. "It's just that Baltimore hasn't won a Super Bowl yet."

Brown hopes it stays that way.

Wayne Drehs is a staff writer for ESPN.com.


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