Splitting image

Sporting News, The, Oct 13, 1997 by Sean Deveney

Jason Peter is a child of the Jersey shore, a 23-year-old with the spirit of a hockey player, a coarse eastern accent and a preference for Bruce Springsteen. It is surprising, then, that he has suggested the Bum Steer steakhouse at the intersection of 66th and O streets in Lincoln, Neb., as a place to get good grub. The seats here are made to resemble the hides of spotted cows: stirrups dangle from the ceiling; patrons discard peanut shells on the wood floor; and tear-in-the-beer country music prevails. The place is right out of one of those Clint Eastwood Any Which Way... movies. It is hard to imagine him in a place like this. "It's not much like New Jersey," he says.

But Peter knew that when he agreed to go to Lincoln to play football for the University of Nebraska five years ago. He knew because he was following his brother Christian, a star defensive e tackle for the Cornhuskers from 1992 to '95 and Jason's most influential role model. Now Jason is the star tackle, the anchor of Nebraska's defensive Tine, one of the best units in the country and the soul of the Huskers. After all this time in Lincoln, he has adjusted despite the culture shock of being 1,400 miles from his hometown of Locust, N.J. it has been made easier by the performance of the Huskers this year, undefeated with a remaining schedule as tender as a Bum Steer porterhouse.

That Peter has learned to like this Great Plains livestock burg is surprising. That he still looks to his older brother as a role model is downright shocking.

Christian Peter is the pariah of the football world. He has become a symbol of everything that is wrong with big-time college football. In his time at Nebraska, he built a frightening legal rap sheet, ranging from trespassing and public urination to third-degree sexual assault and a federal rape suit. The Patriots selected him in the fifth round of the 1996 draft, then released him three days later after a flood of negative publicity. Christian was portrayed as unaccountable, protected because he was a football player and unrepentant, he also was unemployed.

But within Husker circles, a different image of Christian has persevered. When Nebraska won national championships in 1994 and '95, he was the leader of the defense, the guy who made pregame speeches and whacked his teammates on their helmets after big plays. He instilled confidence and swagger in the players around him, and when adversity arose, he reminded them, "We're Nebraska," as if the name was synonymous with invincibility. Especially with his little brother, that image of Christian remains.

What is left for Jason Peter is a difficult balancing act: how to be like his brother, while not being like his brother.

Peter lives off campus with his younger brother. Damian (a Nebraska student whose football career at Notre Dame ended before it started after he suffered a 1994 neck injury), and Grant Wistrom, an All-American defensive end and Jason's best friend. "People always say, `Where you see one, you see the other,'" Wistrom says of he and Jason, both seniors.

What you don't see in the residence is football decor. Jerseys, trophies, bronzed cleats, sentimental jock straps--none of the ordinary trappings of football success are found here. Instead, there are pictures of vineyards. "Like a bunch of girls decorated it," Peter says. The pictures are vestiges of New Jersey "My father owns a restaurant. I get the stuff from him."

He has gotten more than pictures from his father. Hubert, who emigrated from Germany 35 years ago and now owns a successful French restaurant c restaurant in Rumson, N.J. "He comes from a very disciplined family," Nebraska defensive coordinator Charlie McBride says. "All the boys art good It leaders. It's in their genes, I guess."

That includes Christian. It is odd that Jason looks to his brother to keep him out of trouble, which would seem like going to Chef Boyardee for diet advice. But the influence of Christian on Jason cannot be overestimated. Jason thought enough of Christian to follow him to the middle of the country. Jason admits he never would have considered spending his college years in Lincoln had Christian not been there. And while Christian was in jail last year, serving a 10-day sentence for an assault charge stemming from an incident in a Kearney, Neb., bar, Jason switched from No. 95 to 55, Christian's old number, to show his support.

When he arrived at Nebraska, Jason went under Christian's protection. Christian gave him a social rail to lean an Jason did not have to make new friends on his new team; he simply to meet Christian's friends. But even though they were surrounded by the same people. Jason managed to avoid the kind of trouble for which Christian has been so vilified, a result of his own preventive efforts. He has nothing negative to say about Christian; he just shuns the temptations that Christian could not. He doesn't drink much, and if he does, he prefers to do so in the comfort of the disco room, a converted bedroom with a dance floor and disco ball, in his house.