Lunch line: across the NFL, units are getting to know each other and building chemistry as the season nears. To get an idea of what they're going through, grab a plate and dig in with the Chiefs' front five

Sporting News, The, August 30, 2004 by Dennis Dillon

Sit down to lunch with three-quarters of a ton of NFL offensive linemen, and you quickly gain an insight into their personalities, interests and quirks. Not because of what they consume but because of what consumes them. That's the case today, as five healthy appetites fill the lone table in a spacious banquet room in Rodli Commons on the University of Wisconsin-River Falls campus.

The occupants: Willie Roaf, Brian Waters, Casey Wiegmann, Will Shields and John Welbourn--left to right, the starting line for the Chiefs. The bill of fare: Japanese seafood soup, marinated grilled chicken with roasted corn and bean salsa, pesto cream ravioli, Jasmine rice, snow peas, creamed corn and salad. The topics: football, speed, the sun and politics.

This morning, the linemen heard a rumor that President Bush, who is stumping in Wisconsin, is coming through town. He might even stop to address the Chiefs' coaches and players.

"I have a question," says Welbourn, who has a degree in rhetoric from Cal. "I'd like to ask if he could define jobless recovery for me. I'm interested in how we're going to have a recovery in this country without having more jobs."

The Chiefs faced a jobless recovery situation in March when John Tait, their right tackle, departed for Chicago as a free agent. Tait had been part of a line that started 32 consecutive regular-season games over the past two years, the longest streak since the Chargers had 40 in the early '70s. His departure left a big hole on the starboard side.

On April 25, Day 1 of the draft, Chiefs coach Dick Vermeil asked offensive line coach Mike Solari to look at tape of Welbourn, then the Eagles' left guard. Solari could find only one game of Welbourn playing tackle; it was the final preseason game of 1999, Welbourn's rookie year. Solari also watched Welbourn in two playoff games from last season. Vermeil and Solari decided he fit the Chiefs' profile and could fill the right tackle vacancy. So the Chiefs traded two draft picks (fifth round in 2004 and fourth round in 2005) to the Eagles for Welbourn.

The Chiefs acquired a lineman who has a nasty attitude on the field and a wry sense of humor off it. When the lunch-table discussion turns to the best offensive lines in the NFL--one ranking had the Chiefs No. 1, followed by the Packers, Ravens and Seahawks--Welbourn jumps on his cue. "The Eagles had a hell of a line the last few years," he says, "but they're just a bunch of pretenders now."

What makes the Chiefs' line so good? Having two perennial Pro Bowl links in the chain certainly helps, but one of those links defers to the talent at the skill positions.

"I think it's because of the running back," says Shields, referring to Priest Holmes, who has rushed for 4,590 yards in his three seasons in Kansas City and had an NFL-record 27 rushing touchdowns last year. "And the quarterback (Trent Green). Those guys make it easy."

When it comes to themselves, the linemen spread the superlatives, even if they sometimes are tongue-in-cheek. Everyone agrees Waters is the strongest. Roaf deems Wiegmann the best looking. "He is dashing," Welbourn says.

Who's the fastest? That question touches off a running debate between Shields and Roar, who play different positions but whose football careers follow several parallel lines. In 1992, Shields (Nebraska) won the Outland Trophy; Roaf (Louisiana Tech) was a finalist. Both were '93 NFL draft picks--Roar in the first round by the Saints and Shields in the third round by the Chiefs. Each has gone to nine Pro Bowls.

So which one would win a footrace?

"I said I wanted to race him in the 40, but he wants to race me in the 100 because he thinks I'm going to slow down;' Roaf says. "I'm faster than him because he's too old." Roaf, 34, is reminded that he actually is a year and a half older than Shields, which evokes laughs around the table. "Yeah," he says, "but he's played more games than me."

There's no question Roaf is the fastest eater. Barely five minutes into lunch, his plate is clean. Roaf also has an unusual habit of looking up at the sun when he's on the football field. None of his linemates can explain it. They just accept it.

"It was a big day when both the sun and moon were out," cracks Welbourn. "That was special."

The beginning of the 2004 season will mark the re-emergence of the offensive line's kangaroo court. As the player with the longest tenure, Shields is the self-appointed judge and levier of fines. Finable transgressions range from a player having his name or picture in the paper to using a cell phone in the meeting room to jumping offside in a game. (This story would have led to multiple fines if it had been published during the regular season.)

"Willie won the title last year," Wiegmann says. "He paid the most money."

If staring at the sun is peculiar, Roaf's other habit is, well, downright offensive. He has a propensity for flatulence in the meeting room. At $5 per emission, it can be costly.

Fines are collected and the money goes into a kitty to be used for entertainment purposes at the end of the season. Last year, all of the offensive linemen and their wives or girlfriends used it for a night of bowling, laser tag and Putt-Putt golf. Guess who paid for the Putt-Putt?