The Once and Future Freak

"I just want to make sure it doesn't get sore," he says testily.

Kearse then produces a small, two-pronged knife and begins to shear the tape away from his ankles. When he's finished, he hoists himself onto his square equipment trunk and stares about the room. He looks tired, spent.

Just then a reporter from a Nashville TV news show sticks a camera in Kearse's face, complete with a mini klieg light. Kearse does his best to brighten.

The reporter, a skinny, blond man with a reedy voice, asks him about how it feels to be back. Will The Freak be returning to Tennessee?

Kearse flashes a smile as bright as Christmas morning. His teeth are perfect and white as porcelain.

He says that he likes the defensive scheme, he's excited about the team's chances, and he thinks they can go all the way.

The camera switches off, and Kearse rises. He grabs a bottle of Zest body wash and Rembrandt toothpaste from the cabinet above his cubby, wraps a blue towel around his waist, and walks stiffly toward the shower room, heavily favoring his left knee as he goes.

In June, Kearse bought a house on Whitworth Boulevard, right off of Bowling Avenue in West Nashville. His is a rather upscale neighborhood. Both former Sen. Bill Frist and Sen. Lamar Alexander live right up the street.

At the front entrance of Kearse's home, twin staircases rise from the street and arch together toward the front door, forming a distinctly vulval oval. In the middle, standing amid well-manicured bushes, there is a statue of a cherubic boy holding a large dish. Inside the house, Kearse lays across a wide, high-backed couch in his living room with a white, elastic-looking wrap on his left knee.

The living room is expansive, in the style of suburban "great rooms," with light flooding in from tall windows. The furniture is show-room new. A magnum bottle of Grey Goose vodka stands atop a small wet bar with cans of pineapple juice in a carton nearby.

Kearse is holding a nearly laptop-sized remote control—for the large flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. He starts reflecting on his time in Philadelphia. As he speaks, the giant screen flickers images of a Robo Cop sequel, and the cathedral-ceilinged room echoes with the sound of automatic weaponry.

Kearse describes the Eagles defensive scheme as a "two gap" defense. This type of defense requires that a defensive end like Kearse focus more on stopping the run than sacking the quarterback.

"That type of defense...wasn't utilizing my talents," Kearse says. He adds that the Eagles defensive scheme, created by defensive coordinator Jim Johnson, distributes sacks equally among defensemen. "Even safeties and corners and linebackers [were getting sacks]," Kearse says. "Here, we're doing a lot of four-man rushes, just the linemen, so we'll be getting those sacks."

JasonB, of Bleeding Green Nation, has heard Kearse give this explanation before and doesn't agree.

"Honestly," says JasonB, "[It] made no sense to me when I heard [Kearse] say that. Jim Johnson's defense is built almost entirely around pressuring the quarterback, so how a pass rush specialist couldn't thrive in such a situation is beyond me.... I think it is a pretty weak excuse from a guy that I never knew to make excuses before."

Sal Paolantonio also balks at the rationalization.

"What Jim Johnson tries to do," says Paolantonio, "is throw as many pass rushers as possible at the quarterback.... Kearse, more than anybody else that I've seen, should have been perfectly suited for what Jim Johnson tries to accomplish on the football field."

When these sentiments are relayed to Kearse, he stares straight ahead and curls his lip slightly, as if he has smelled something unpleasant.

"I love proving the naysayers wrong," Kearse says. "I get off on that. That motivates me. Like Sal and all that, that motivates me." He pauses and smiles. "They pissed off The Freak again."