Under world: enter the dark domain of the pileup, where limb-twisting, throat-grabbing and rib-goring are commonplace and where a minute at the bottom can feel like an excruciating eternity

Sporting News, The, Sept 30, 2002 by Phil Barber

After a draining and exhilarating fourth quarter, the Vikings and Bills are in overtime in Week 2. About two minutes into the extra period, Buffalo is operating near midfield when quarterback Drew Bledsoe fumbles a shotgun snap. A recovery could turn the game to Minnesota, but Mike Williams, the Bills' rookie tackle, comes up with the ball.

Or does he?

Another first-year player, Vikings safety Jack Brewer, swears he at least shares possession, along with a teammate. And getting it was no small feat.

"I didn't notice the ball was on the ground until I saw everyone else diving; Brewer recalls. "I dove with them. I could see the ball, a little leather sticking out. So I tried to dig my arm up in there. Everyone's trying to pull you off. Guys are pushing. It just turns into a big fight." Williams wins this battle--at least the officials say so--and the Bills win the game.

About one hour earlier and 2,000 miles to the West, Denver linebacker John Mobley survives a similar altercation, recovering a third-quarter [Unreadable text in original source] by San Francisco's Jeff Garcia as the Broncos [Unreadable text in original source] a 10-7 lead. "Someone was pinching my inner thigh the entire time---until the referee could get everybody off--trying to get me to let go [Unreadable text in original source] the football," Mobley says. "Pinching my inner thigh the whole time. There's a lot of stuff going on down there. It's pretty crazy."

Welcome to the seedy underbelly of the NFL. Pileups, those mad scrambles for loose balls and down-and-dirty short-yardage scrums, are brutal, chaotic--and utterly commonplace. Just about every veteran player in the league has been there, and few are itching to return.

"It's a place I'd rather not be," Eagles cornerback Troy Vincent says. "There are three or four white jerseys and three or four dark jerseys, and everyone in fighting for the ball. A lot of stuff is being said. Guys are punching, poking, trying to pull your helmet of or twist your arm."

Kole Ayi has been there. He was at the center of memorable storm in 2001 after a Rams teammate fumbled during a kickoff return against Philadelphia.

"There were four or five hands on the ball including mine," Ayi recalls. "Guys are trying to get your fingers off it. I had no idea who it was, but I wasn't letting go. I was screaming, `I got it!' A teammate of mine, I think it was Don Davis, was screaming, too. I'm like, `No, Don, I got it!'

"This was going on for a while. The referees were trying to get people off. My arms were so sore afterward. They were in a locked, clenched position for [Unreadable text in original source] minute or 45 seconds. People are pulling at your arms, lying on your legs. You can't see anything."

Visualize your entrance into this writhing frame "Your full concentration is on blocking the guy in front of you," Panthers guard Kevin Donnalley says, "You're driving with your legs, you've got your face in his. Then you hear defenders scream, or you see people diving at your knees, and you know. Instinct takes over, and you're trying to get that rock."

In an instant, sunlight gives way to darkness, and the roar of the crowd is replaced by an urged cacophony.

"You hear a lot of whistles," Vikings running back Michael Bennett says. "Guys are like, `Ouch! Oh! Ah!' And you hear a lot of profanity. People'll be yelling, `Punk!' or `You're a scrub!' Then when you get up, the guy shouting at you is standing right next to you. You just laugh about it."

Some of the more claustrophobic players have been known to freak as the seconds tick away. Everyone wants to exit the pile-up, but it takes awhile to unscramble. "It can be a minute," Broncos quarterback Steve Beuerlein says. "Well, that's a long minute."

The weight of the pile often is significant, easily more than a ton on a good goal-line plunge. "I've had times when it felt like if one or two more guys jumped on the pile, I would've snapped in half," says Donnalley, who weighs 310 pounds.

Redskins guard Brenden Stai says he'll never forget a third-and-1 play he helped to execute while with the Steelers. "On short yardage, you get really low," Stai says. "Everyone was in the box. I came off the line hard. It was a quarterback sneak. And Mike Tomczak and I both opened our eyes at the same time at the bottom of this thing and yelled at the top of our lungs."

Beuerlein can relate. While playing for Carolina, he was nearly planted two feet deep in the tundra of Lambeau Field--by his own teammates. Beuerlein ran a dramatic quarterback draw as time expired in a 1999 game, scoring the winning touchdown but hurting his knee as a tackler flipped him into the end zone.

"The first guy to me was my tackle, Matt Campbell," Beuerlein says. "He did a belly flop on me. I'm already in agony, and now I've got 300 pounds on top of me. Well, that was an invitation for everyone to jump in--the rest of the offensive line, the tight ends, the running backs. The first couple of guys, I'm yelling, `Get off! Get off! But by then it's too late. Guys are already coming in. I'm down there thinking, `I'm gonna die.'"