Not in his wildest dreams: Eagles linebacker Jeremiah Trotter has evolved from an out-of-work player to a special teams contributor to a pivotal starter in the Super Bowl. Not even he would have believed it—

Paul Attner

It is last summer, and Jeremiah Trotter is dreaming. He puts a lot of faith, literally, in dreams. He believes they are messages to guide his life. But this one, well, this one he doesn't understand. This dream has him in an Eagles uniform, playing special teams, making a big play on a kickoff return. But how could that be? No way is he an Eagle, and he certainly isn't a special teams player. Trotter usually discusses his dreams with his pastor. But not this one. Eagles? Special teams? Lord, you sure you have the right guy here?

Seven months later, after being an unemployed, unwanted former star, with no teams offering a contract, frightened he could be facing career decisions long before the proper time, Trotter stands in the Eagles' locker room and cries. He cries because he now is the starting middle linebacker of the newly crowned NFC champions and he remembers his dream and remembers the first three months of this season, when he shoved aside his pride and became a full-time special teams standout, and he realizes how glad he is he kept the faith--even waking up in a non-believing sweat seven months earlier.

Trotter looms as an essential player in Super Bowl 39. As the Eagles' pivotal run stopper, he will need to control Corey Dillon and force the Patriots to pass more than they want. allowing the Eagles to unleash their complex and formidable blitz packages. It's difficult to decide which is more remarkable: that he is in a position of importance for this game or that his dream turned out to be so accurate.

After all, this was the Trotter who ended his first tenure with the Eagles in an ugly shouting match with coach Andy Reid over contract differences. This was the Trotter who stalked out of the Eagles' complex in April 2002, vowing never to return. This was the Trotter who received a $7 million signing bonus from the Redskins two weeks later, ruined a knee and played with such lack of discipline when he was healthy that Joe Gibbs cut him after taking over as coach last offseason. The Eagles certainly didn't want him back. They were happy with Mark Simoneau, his replacement, and besides, defensive coordinator Jim Johnson thought Trotter played just "OK" with Washington. And hadn't he rejected Philly once already?

"I would never have expected to be here right now," he says. "Not in a million years."

Trotter always has been one of those intriguing players whose reputation conflicts with coaching evaluations.

In his first tenure with the Eagles, he is a reckless, physical, big-play guy who frequently free-lances outside Johnson's carefully scripted schemes. His style makes him a fan favorite; he is an emotional, entertaining leader, with his ax-chop celebrations and constant yapping. His teammates love him, too; it's easy to be captivated by his huge personality and hardy laugh. But for all the crushing hits, there are too many missed assignments. "Before, Trot was more worried about being in the Pro Bowl, being the best linebacker, being Ray Lewis," says Johnson. "It wasn't about being the best team. You try to make plays, but you can't guess." He wants huge bucks to stay with the Eagles. They aren't overpaying for a guy who plays too much on his own, two Pro Bowls or not.

That Trotter won't face the Patriots. Sure, be remains strong and aggressive, a pure, physical, blow-up tackler with a stunning explosive burst. But now, at 28, he is more disciplined, more attentive to detail, more patient, more willing to allow the defense to function correctly and rely on others to execute their jobs, too, far less prone to wild journeys outside the structure. "He is a much better player because he had to work at getting here again; it wasn't given to him," says Johnson. "And he is a different person, no question about that." He is strikingly more mature, more at peace with himself and life, his priorities less self-centered.

"I am a different person," he says. "I am definitely smarter as a player. I trust my eyes more. I am so much more patient; I allow the game to come to me instead of trying to make every play and get out of position like before. I learned a lot from what I went through. I had to work through my pride and ego and humble myself and pray a lot, but I am a better person for it. And I am having the time of my life. I can't even describe how much fun this is."

We'll never know, of course, if the Eagles would be in this Super Bowl without Trotter. But this much is obvious: Their run defense develops a glaring leak during the season, a defect capable of denying them a championship. Through eight games, they allow an average of 130.6 rushing yards, climaxed by Pittsburgh's 252 on November 7. Eight days later, Trotter starts for Simoneau, who is moved to the outside. In the next six games, the average drops to 83.5. In the NFC championship game, the Falcons, the league's No. 1 running team, coming off a 327-yard avalanche against the Rams, are limited to 99; Trotter has a team-high eight tackles. Controlling the rush no longer is an Eagles concern.

Hours after tearing his ACL late in the 2002 season, Trotter is hospitalized, convinced his career is over. The phone rings. "Trot, how are you doing?" asks Andy Reid. Trotter is stunned. He has not spoken to his former coach since their screaming episode. But Reid, who also has deep religious convictions. doesn't believe in holding grudges. He respects Trotter and wants to wish him luck. "A pick-me-up call" is how Reid describes it.

Nine months later, the Eagles are playing in Washington and a tear bomb is released near the Philly bench. Reid and Trotter wind up standing next to each other at midfield. Trotter thanks Reid for making him a starter; Reid tells the player how much he admires his ability. Each man is pleased with the conversation.

What Reid doesn't know is how unhappy Trotter is in Washington. His knee is hurting, the team is losing, he is stuck in a read-and-react scheme that inhibits his aggressiveness. And his coaches want him to be more disciplined. "We talked every day," says the Rev. Anthony Gardner, pastor of Life Giving Word Christian Church in Delran, N.J. "I spent a lot of time in Washington. Blowing out his knee caused him to think a lot about his life."

If the knee problem starts the reshaping of Trotter's spirituality, the jolt of being released by the Redskins last June opens the flood-gates. He expects quick job offers. None come. "He was the great Jeremiah Trotter on the streets, and no one was calling," says Gardner. "He really got an eye-opener. It was an incredibly humbling experience."

Trotter soon has another dream. In it, he thanks Reid for calling him in the hospital. He also apologizes for his conduct in the contract negotiations. Afterward, Gardner tells Trotter it takes a strong person to say he is sorry. His agent gives him a cell phone number for Reid, who is fishing in the Rockies. On the day Trotter calls, Reid is having problems with reception. Trotter gets through on the first try. "As long as I stayed within this one-foot area, we could talk," Reid says. "I thought, 'Maybe this is meant to be.'" The two men express regret about the contract furor. Trotter says he wants to come back. Reid tells him he would have to play special teams, that he is happy with Simoneau as a starter.

"It took a man to make that call," says Reid. "Here was a Pro Bowl player willing to do what I asked. He's a good person, and I felt he could help us." Johnson was hesitant. "I am not saying I was real excited," he says. "Maybe he could help us, but I was not going to plug him in right away. I was not going to give it to him. Maybe that was in our plan a little bit, make him appreciate (starting) a little more."

In July, the Eagles sign Trotter to a minimum contract of $750,000. Training camp proves difficult. He left a star, a locker room leader; now he's a special teamer outside the spotlight. Linebackers coach Steve Spagnuolo rides him hard, harping on every mistake, demanding he be disciplined. This time, he must do it the Eagles' way. "He had to swallow his pride, and I was interested in seeing how he would do," says line-backer Ike Reese, a close friend. "He handled it right; it was really impressive. He came in and didn't force himself on anyone." Some days, Trotter is embarrassed. "I would drop my head and cry," he says. "It is tough on your pride. You remember the glory days, and now it was this." Once the season begins, he becomes a special teams force of Pro Bowl caliber. Still, he wants to start.

In practices, Johnson watches him evolve, how he isn't gambling anymore, how he is staying within the scheme, how physical he remains. Johnson realizes he needs to get Trotter into the lineup. After the disaster against Pittsburgh, the change is easy. Trotter immediately energizes his teammates with his enthusiasm and vocal leadership. "He knew what we were missing," says Reese. Seven weeks later, he is voted to the Pro Bowl "Has it worked out better than I expected? Yes," says Johnson.

"He is a tackling machine," says CBS analyst Solomon Wilcots, a former NFL defensive back. "His presence just made that defense physically tougher. He weighs 20 pounds more than Simoneau, and it shows. But this Super Bowl will be a defining moment for him. If the Eagles can neutralize Dillon with seven players, they can do what they want in the secondary. If they need an eighth guy, it swings to what the Patriots want."

Trotter knows this. But he knows he can't revert to his old habits and try to do too much. He'll tell his teammates, as he always does, to funnel all the plays "back to your boy, and I'll make the tackle." He knows running backs once couldn't wait to play his Eagles. "They were lining up, happy." But that has changed. "I took it personal," he says. "I brought a confidence and attitude to our run defense. They turn a back into me, and I am going to put a knot on him."

He's getting excited as he talks. He is thankful the Lord gave him another chance in Philly. And now a Super Bowl. "I am an Eagle for life," he finally says. "Why would I want to go anywhere else?"

COPYRIGHT 2005 Sporting News Publishing Co.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning