Troubled Watters: Ricky Watters may have the fastest feet in Philadelphia, but he can't seem to corral his onrushing reputation

Sporting News, The, August 18, 1997 by Paul Attner

At this very moment, Ricky Watters wants to assure me he is one credibly happy person. He is sitting in a huge, soaring room filled with dark furniture and aromas from the Eagles' training-camp cafeteria a floor below. His voice fills the empty spaces, bouncing off walls in rapidly louder fashion. See, his head is clear, his life is changing, his spiritual strength has never been greater. My goodness, he can notice the effects on his teammates already, just a few days into summer workouts.

"My teammates are positive and in good spirits," he gushes. "And you know why? Because I am positive and in good spirits, that's why. I mean like yesterday, it was raining and I could have acted like I didn't to be here, and what do you think the young guys are going to do? Act like they don't want to be here? But I am bouncing around, having a good time, and they are, too."

Then he looks at me and nods. See, the nod says, I'm on the right path. As if one good day at practice somehow can wipe out a backlog of outrageous missteps.

I am from Harrisburg, Pa., and I thought it would be a great situation coming back to Philly and resurrect the town and its football and work in the inner city. But I have been fighting these ghosts here and these devils, all the different confrontations here. I don't want to say devil, but that is how I feel. I haven't been able to focus on the good things. I had my best years the last two years and, believe it or not, I felt like people weren't understanding me, my teammates weren't understanding me, like I was doing a terrible job.

Who knows when the twin torments of paranoia and insecurity that fuel Ricky Watters' athletic life began to form? Maybe they began hen Watters was a kid just starting to participate in sports and his father argued with his coaches over playing time. Maybe they began when Lou Holtz switched him to receiver at Notre Dame and he wanted to stay at running back and he couldn't quell the anger. Maybe they began with the 49ers, when they could have signed him to a new contract but didn't, even though he constituted their running game. Maybe they began when be thought he should get every carry and stay on the field for every play with the Eagles, yet their coaches had the audacity to rest him and not heed his game-planning advice.

Whatever their roots, the torments are fully developed, playing with his mind, judging the actions of others, conspiring to overshadow what should be hailed as a brilliant tenure with the Eagles. Instead of being held in the same awe as the Smiths and the Sanders for his running and receiving skills, Watters, a five-time Pro Bowl participant, is kept at arm's length, placed at the head of another cluster, bearer of a title he doesn't want but clearly has earned. He has become the league's most prolific whiner, an immature boy in a man's body who is never satisfied, never fully at peace with himself, his talents or his accomplishments. Instead of owning Philadelphia, which at its core is a football town and desperately wants a football hero to adore, his constant laments have resulted in no local endorsements. Until recently, he didn't even have a national shoe deal.

The torments limit his vision. He sees quotes from his coach, Ray Rhodes, and his offensive coordinator, Jon Gruden, praising his relentless work ethic and his ability to play hard every game and his quest to get the ball in the most pressured situations, and he takes their comments as dispensation for his defensiveness and outbursts. Can't you see, I give everything I have when I am on the field and that is really all the matters to my coaches? And his voice rises as he wonders aloud: Why does everyone want to tear me down when I am so good at what I do?

Yet there is a part of him that knows it has all been screwed up, that rushing for more yards than anyone except Emmitt Smith and Barry Sanders over the past two years and leading the NFL in total yards from scrimmage a season ago can't justify the rest of his self-centered conduct. He knows his constant arguing and gesturing and complaining -- don't take me out of the game; throw me more passes; don't run me up the middle so much; don't cut down on my carries; don't keep using the same game plans -- have only managed to cast a shadow over all his on-field glories.

So he has come into this season vowing to change his ways and start over again and show a greater maturity and understanding of the world around him, all fueled by a deeper faith in God. But he knows his quest in being rightfully greeted by a large dose of cynicism and doubt. And he is stunned. Why can't they trust him and take him at his word? So what if this is the last year of his contract? So what if the Eagles choose not to re-sign him -- and right now, it seems likely they could pass on him unless he really does become more tolerable -- and so what if that would mean he needs to enter the free-agent market with a classier image?

"Nothing to do with it," says Watters solemnly about any connection between the contractual situation and his new approach.