No doubt: the unlikely NFL career of Kelly Gregg

August 02, 2009|By Kevin Van Valkenburg | The Baltimore Sun

When Kelly Gregg and I stroll into the Owings Mills Red Robin on a recent muggy summer afternoon, I contemplate telling our waitress that she might want to alert the cooks, just in case they need backup.

I've been dreaming of this moment for months, maybe even years, since hearing tales of Baltimore Colts writers describing the eating habits and antics of Art Donovan, the beefy, everyman hero of his time. Donovan could eat 25 hot dogs in one sitting. He once ordered three pizzas, polished off two of them, then saved the third for breakfast the next morning.I want Kelly Gregg to be the modern-day Art Donovan - telling stories about fishing and wrestling in central Oklahoma as he orders a third plate of ribs and then dips them in gravy. Gregg is so polite and genuine, he threatens to give professional athletes a good name. When I thank him for being willing to have lunch with me, he answers with a phrase he'll say close to 50 times in the next hour.

"You bet, buddy," he says. "No doubt!"

Sitting across from me, the 32-year-old Gregg looks like he should have been an extra on The Sopranos. His neck is about as thick as an oil drum. He's the guy you would want if you're ever pinned beneath a refrigerator. He'd simply lift the appliance over his shoulder and chuck it away like a loaf of bread while asking if you're all right.

When the waitress comes to take our order, I tell her we won't need separate checks. This is on me. The Ravens' 6-foot, 315-pound blue-collar nose tackle can order whatever he wants. In fact, he can order two.

"I think I'll have the grilled turkey burger and a water," Gregg says with a grin, in his high-pitched Oklahoma twang.

"Would you like fries with that?" she asks.

"Nah," Gregg says. "I'm good."

A turkey burger? A water? What in the name of Refrigerator Perry is the world of lovable chunky athletes coming to?

But, of course, it makes sense. Gregg is coming back from microfracture surgery after missing all last season with a knee injury, and he doesn't want to be carrying extra weight. Unlike the men who preceded him in the Ravens' defense - Sam Adams and Tony Siragusa - he isn't a plodder who leans on guards and refuses to budge, freeing up others.

He's a torpedo. He runs down ball-carriers as well as any defensive lineman in football. In 2007, he was third on the team in tackles with 111 and had 13 solo tackles in a single game. Although there is a growing sentiment around the league that Haloti Ngata is becoming one of the best defensive tackles in football, if Gregg is at full strength this year, Ngata might have to fight just to be considered the best defensive tackle on his own team. Together, they could be one of the most difficult tandems to block in football.

"It's good to see Kelly out there, running around like a little kid again," Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis says. "He doesn't know how to tackle yet, but we'll get him going."

Gregg's affable personality, more than his appetite, is the real reason I wanted to take him to lunch. It's probably fair to say he's one of the most popular players in the Ravens' locker room, which makes his return to the team this season even more important. Gregg is so devoid of ego and is such a tireless worker, he might be the one person every clique on the team embraces.

"The guy is just hilarious," says Ravens defensive lineman Jarret Johnson, one of Gregg's friends. "He's just got this attitude where you never hear him complain about practice or the schedule or anything. He just shows up, always in a good mood, making people laugh and having fun. And he might be the best nose tackle in football. Players know that, coaches know that, but the fans, I don't think, really know that."

When you get him to sit down and talk about his unlikely journey, it's a little hard even for Gregg to believe. Growing up in Edmond, Okla., as the son of a police officer, Gregg always figured he would follow his father, Terry's, footsteps. He spent his teenage years with a buzz cut, listening to Hank Williams Jr. and Guns N' Roses, and developing a bit of an edge thanks to his name.

"Kids teased me all the time, saying Kelly was a girl's name," Gregg says. "But I didn't take much ... for very long. I guess it was a little bit of a 'Boy Named Sue' kind of thing."

He figured he would graduate from college, get through the police academy, and spend his days and nights cruising around Edmond wearing a badge, protecting the community. He would have been perfectly content if, in fact, life had turned out that way, as long as he got to go fishing every weekend.

"I just assumed I'd live in Oklahoma the rest of my life," Gregg says. "It's just a great place with a bunch of hardworking people. We were always outside. On weekends, we'd wake up, go outside, and we wouldn't come home 'til it was dark. We were just playing in the woods, all kinds of good stuff. You might live in a neighborhood, but you didn't think nothing about going and jumping in a pond. No doubt."

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