How Super Bowl Mvp Got Millions From Raiders

Early into the start of a warm south Florida afternoon, Al Davis, resplendent in Raider black, walks out of an elevator and strolls across the lobby of his hotel. He glances around. No one notices him. He sees a man sitting in a nearby chair. Davis moves to him, smiling and extending his hand. "Desmond," he says. "I'm Al Davis. Glad to meet ya."

Desmond Howard smiles back. "Thank you, Mr. Davis. Happy we could get together."

The two men - Al Davis, the devilishly crafty owner of Oakland, and Desmond Howard, the MVP of the 31st Super Bowl and an unsigned free agent - soon adjourn to Davis' suite. For Davis, it is a particularly exciting moment. Not since his old American Football League days, when he was stealing players from the snotty NFL by stashing them in hotel rooms or signing them under goal posts, has he been in the field, courting a potential new star for his beloved franchise. What's more, this afternoon in Boca Raton has all the nifty elements of intrigue that the secretive Davis relishes.

Only a tiny group of people know about this clandestine rendezvous; the Raiders have not been listed on the short list of Howard's serious suitors. That group has included just the Packers, his former employer, and the New England Patriots, who lost the Super Bowl to Green Bay in large part because of Howard's kick- and punt-return excellence.

Even the circumstances that make possible the March 1 get-together are bizarre. Howard, who has a residence in Boca Raton, has returned that morning from a week's cruise in the Caribbean. It is only the third time in 34 days since the Super Bowl he's even been home. Davis happens to be visiting his 98-year-old mother, who winters in south Florida. The Raiders swear the timing is just a coincidence.

"We want you to be a Raider," Davis tells Howard once they get to the room. "Be part of our family."

Howard smiles. In the month since the Super Bowl, he's heard lots of folks tell him they want to have part of him. NFL teams. Corporate sponsors. Charities. Talk shows. Sitcoms. Banquet organizers. It's been a wild ride getting to this hotel room, sitting opposite this aging football legend dressed so darkly but promising such a bright future. Funny how fickle life can be.

A year previous, Howard was unemployed, suffering the indignity of being released by an expansion team just four seasons after entering the league as a Heisman Trophy winner and the fourth player chosen in the draft.

He ultimately had to settle for a deflating, just-over-minimum $300,000 contract from the Packers. That was chump change for a man awarded a $2.8 million rookie bonus by the Redskins.

But since the Super Bowl, he has been living out of a suitcase as he crisscrosses the country, capitalizing on the fame generated by his MVP popularity while trying to sort out his football future. This is the story of how a 99-yard kickoff return against the Patriots brought remarkable and instant change to Desmond Howard's life, earned him a seat in a chair in Al Davis' hotel room - and put him in position to become $6 million richer.

As soon as it was announced that Desmond Howard was the Super Bowl MVP, the Packers lost any hope of signing him. Even amid the joy of beating the Patriots, the team's front office understood he was gone; the MVP award would have that type of impact on negotiations. It would increase his demands significantly, jump-starting him into the $1.3 million-plus category. And that would put him out of reach for the Packers.

General Manager Ron Wolf and Coach Mike Holmgren truly wanted him back; his return ability, especially during the playoffs, gave the Packers the edge they needed to win their first championship in 29 years. To let him go after his spectacular season seemed unfathomable. But they also felt their salary structure would be butchered if they paid more than $900,000 or so for a return man who might be, at best, their No. 4 receiver.

But in the days after the Super Bowl, Howard wasn't concerned about his long-term future. He wouldn't be a free agent until February 14. Until then, he had more immediate concerns: the hundreds of requests flooding into the office of his marketing guru, Jamey Crimmins of ISI Inc.

"My work ended when the Super Bowl ended," he tells Crimmins. "I'm going to enjoy this part as much as I can. I want to have fun."

The fun begins the morning after the Super Bowl, when he receives Over a four-day stay in New York, he tapes spots for MTV and VH1 and does shows with David Letterman, Conan O'Brien, Regis and Kathie Lee and Charlie Rose.

Four days after leaving Green Bay, he finally winds up in Virginia and a rendezvous with his clothes. He repacks his suitcases and, a day later, is in Philadelphia for a corporate appearance, followed the next day by an autograph session in Milwaukee that precedes an unscheduled trip to a local children's hospital. He moves on to Cleveland, where he grew up, for the NBA All-Star weekend festivities; Wolf calls to say how much the Packers want him back. Howard thanks him for the opportunity to become a Packer. They don't discuss contract proposals. Then it's off to New York again and the ESPYs, where he both presents and receives an award.

The night before he officially becomes a free agent, Howard is in Atlanta, contemplating the next stage of his life.

"I wish free agency was a simple process so we could get it over and move on," he says, sitting in a high-rise hotel room, "but that is not the way the system works. It's really a no-brainer that I want to go back to Green Bay. But I would be a fool to not test the market. Things have changed for me. I bring more than being a return man and a receiver. I am the Super Bowl MVP, the Super Bowl record holder. I mean, 800 million people saw what I did. Those are things on your resume that should earn you respect."

Howard and his attorney, Leigh Steinberg, already have discussed contract goals. Mel Gray, the highest-paid return specialist in the league, averages $1.2 million per year. But the Howard camp takes a more global view. They'll aim for $2 million a year. Steinberg knows his client's long-term earning power as a return man is limited; he wants to seize this opportunity to redirect Howard's career and carve out a chance for him to become a full-time receiver again. "We've been sidetracked from that goal," Steinberg says, "and we need to refocus."

It will be a tough sell. Howard couldn't make it in Washington, where then-Coach Joe Gibbs and General Manager Charley Casserly jumped ahead of the Packers in the 1992 draft to pick him. Two years later, the Redskins decided they couldn't afford to pay a No. 3 receiver at a Pro Bowl salary level, so he was placed in the expansion draft pool. He didn't last with the Jacksonville Jaguars, either, who released him after one season.

For most teams, paying more than $1 million to a return man coming off only one successful season sporting that kind of receiver resume doesn't make salary-cap sense. But Steinberg knows if he can generate a bidding duel, he should obtain a dramatic raise for his client.

When the free-agency period starts, Patriot Owner Robert Kraft is the first to call. He is enamored with Howard's electricity, even if others in the organization feel uncomfortable courting the man who cost them a Super Bowl. "I want him to come for a visit," Kraft tells Steinberg. He asks what Howard will cost. Steinberg mentions $2 million; Kraft says $1 million is more likely. Indianapolis checks in; from then on, Steinberg frequently lists the Colts as a contender, though Howard never visits or receives a serious offer. The Packers already have told Steinberg to call when he has tested the market and is ready to negotiate.

It is Wednesday, February 19, and Desmond Howard is in Los Angeles. He has spent the previous weekend attending an athletic-equipment show in Atlanta, a boat show in Miami and an auto show in Detroit. He's gotten very little sleep the past 72 hours but is excited anyway. Yesterday, he acted in a TV sitcom, "Living Single." Today, he'll film an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond." He plays himself, gets a few bright lines and comes away impressed with the TV business.

"The people were great," he says, "but, man, was it ever slow getting stuff done."

The same can be said about the pace of his free-agency courtship. After the initial interest, the phones go dead. Lawyers in Steinberg's firm call around the league, trying to generate action. Nothing happens. Howard isn't concerned. "It's going to work out, so why be worried?" he says. On Saturday, he is leaving for a seven-day Caribbean cruise, during which he and other players will entertain fans. Steinberg would like to see him signed before he embarks. Kraft calls again; a visit is set up for Friday. The dynamics that Steinberg seeks are in place: If the Patriots trip is a hit, he'll obtain offers from New England and Green Bay, have Desmond make a choice and then let him go off on the cruise.

Howard flies into Boston from an appearance in Milwaukee. He visits Kraft in his downtown office; the owner has to interrupt a meeting in which he eventually decides to end plans to build a stadium in south Boston. Howard undergoes a physical at a local hospital, then meets with new Coach Pete Carroll at the Patriots' unimpressive Foxboro facility. Howard is assured he will compete for the third receiver spot currently held by Vincent Brisby; Howard departs with a good feeling about the organization. No mention is made of his kickoff return.

"For the amount you'd have to pay him," Carroll says after Howard leaves to fly to Boca Raton, "he's got to do more than just be a kick returner. So our plans for him would be to fit him in as one of the top four receivers and see what he could contribute there." The Patriots initially want to pay just under $3 million for three years; now they revise the numbers: $5.2 million over four years (including a $1.6 million signing bonus), a $1.3 million average. Steinberg and Howard, who also is being advised by his personal attorney in Cleveland, want more up-front money, at least a $2 million bonus.

On Saturday, Steinberg's office talks to Packers chief financial officer Mike Reinfeldt. Reinfeldt is told an unidentified team is seriously interested in Desmond. The Packers, who already have newspaper clips from Boston about Howard's visit, don't need to guess. Reinfeldt details the Packers' bid: $1 million to sign, $3.6 million in all over four years, a $900,000 average. From a separate conversation with Wolf, the Howard camp feels Desmond will begin camp as the fifth receiver, even though Wolf disagrees. With 45 minutes left before the boat leaves, Steinberg tries reaching New England. He can't. Howard departs. No deal is finalized.

"Desmond hit the wall," Steinberg says. "He needs the break. If he didn't have the cruise, we would have kept calling. From the figures, he probably would be a Patriot. But we lost him for the day. Now there is no sense of urgency." Steinberg has no number for Howard on the cruise. "He might as well be on the North Pole," says Steinberg, who later gets the number from Desmond's mother.

He finally talks to his client on Tuesday, February 25. They discuss the receiver question again; Steinberg re-emphasizes that Howard might need to decide between the Patriots and Green Bay soon, or risk losing $400,000. Howard tells him he understands.

Then the course of the negotiations changes. On Wednesday, Raiders executive Bruce Allen calls. They've heard Howard might sign with the Patriots and Davis wants no part of a fellow American Football Conference team winning the bidding battle. They make an offer: $2 million signing bonus, $5.7 million over four years, a $1.4 million average. Steinberg explains that Howard is on a boat and won't return to Boca Raton until Saturday. Guess what, Allen says. Davis will be in south Florida, too; maybe he could meet with Howard.

On Thursday, Desmond and Allen have a lengthy ship-to-shore conversation during which Howard is told he will be the third receiver in place of Daryl Hobbs. The money is close to ideal and the playing role is more tempting than anyone else has offered, but Howard hasn't visited Oakland or met Davis. He agrees to the Boca Raton get-together. Meanwhile, on Friday, Allen calls four times and faxes copies of a proposed contract. The average has been raised to $1.5 million. By going on the cruise instead of agreeing to a contract, Howard could earn another $800,000. Touchdown.

Steinberg checks again with Green Bay and New England. Neither budges. He feels the Patriots are losing enthusiasm. Now everything depends on the Davis encounter.

Sitting in the Boca Raton hotel room, Davis and Howard soon find themselves straying far from football. Davis has a growing concern that Howard's generation has lost touch with the heroes and artists from earlier generations of the 20th century. He shares those views with his visitor and is delighted to discover Howard is familiar with everyone Davis brings up, from Douglas MacArthur to Billy Eckstine and Sarah Vaughan. He likes Howard and wants to sign him. Haven't the Raiders done wonders for the careers of other Heisman winners like Jim Plunkett and Billy Cannon? Howard finds Davis nothing like he had imagined. Far from serious and stern, he is funny and charming. "He's cool," Howard thinks. With newly acquired quarterback Jeff George, Davis is returning the Raiders to their old vertical offense. He's convinced it is a better scheme for small receivers than the West Coast approach used by the Packers. He pulls out the contract. Howard checks with Steinberg's office, then signs the document.

The Raiders ask Steinberg not to announce anything until a press conference in four days, 24 hours before Howard leaves for a bachelor party in the Bahamas. The Packers, unaware of what has happened, meet on Monday and figure out a way to match the Patriots' offer. When they finally hear about the Oakland contract, they are astounded. They tell the Raiders: Three teams have found out he can't play receiver; you'll be the fourth.

"He's a great young man and you can't blame him for taking the money," Wolf says. "I'm happy for him." Wolf thinks Howard's likely return-man replacement, Derrick Mayes, could be better than Desmond. He needs to be right.

On Sunday, the day after his talk with Davis, Howard signs autographs for two hours at an auto show in Milwaukee. Fans tell him they want to collect money to keep him in Green Bay. Sworn to silence about the Raiders contract, he smiles and says he wants to be a Packer but it's not up to him. "It's up to Ron Wolf," he tells them.

Later, he says privately: "The only downside is leaving the Packers. They said they wanted me back, but it is important to show me. I swallowed some pride last year when I signed for $300,000. Now it was time to give me what I really am worth."

A few hours after Desmond Howard's March 5 press conference at the Raiders' new practice facility, Al Davis arrives at his office. Dressed in white, strands of hair hanging against his collar, Davis is buoyant. So what if other league personnel men think he is overpaying and overrating Howard? "He is instant," Davis says, sipping on a Diet Coke. "He is explosion. How can you not want him?

"We're going to get this franchise back where it should be, and he's going to help us do it," he says firmly. He shows off two scouting reports from Howard's final year at Michigan, including one by Fred Biletnikoff. Both rave about Desmond's future. Biletnikoff is now Howard's position coach.

Davis has relished these negotiations. "I can't remember the last time I was in a hotel room trying to sign someone," he says with a laugh. Then he pauses. "We put a lot of pressure on people these days to close a deal. It's not easy. But ya know, I used to be a pretty darn good closer. When I was a kid."

Still is. Just ask Desmond Howard.