Then something funny happened at that game. Bettis got a
second chance. Vanderjagt missed the kick. Colts lose; Steelers
win. And Bettis finally made it to the big game—in his hometown
of Detroit, no less—and won a Super Bowl. In his moment of desperate solitude in Indianapolis, we felt his sense of yearning unfulfilled. In his time of triumph, he validated for us that the final,
great achievement is possible, if just for the coupling of relentless
drive and a redemptive twist of fate.
MR. SUNDAY NIGHT
Bettis was a surefire candidate for a top TV network job because
he has always been known for his refreshing candor and an engaging personality. And, in thinking back to last season, he doesn’t
cop the “I always knew, in the end, we’d emerge with a W” line
of pure hooey that many pro athletes come up with. He knew he
was minutes away from ending his last game with one of pro football’s all-time blunders. Even his mom, Gladys, who only missed
two games of her son’s professional career, had to leave her seat
because she couldn’t watch the result.
“It was an awful feeling,” says Bettis, 34, in an interview with
Arrive. “All I could do was stand there. There wasn’t anything
I could do to change the outcome. Then, when the Colts missed
the kick, all I could think was, ‘Thank God! The big fellow upstairs didn’t want me to go out on that kind of play either!’ We
got a second chance and made the most of it. I’ll never forget the
experience for the rest of my life.”
Bettis emerged from his championship run as more than a
jock with a Super Bowl ring on his finger. He became a folk hero
of sorts, equally appealing to nonsports fans and NFL junkies
alike. He has a nickname, “The Bus,” an homage to his ability to
carry a load of defenders on his back. Viewers learned he was—
and is—one of the NFL’s good guys, as he remains passionate
about his foundation, Bus Stops Here, which reaches out to troubled and underprivileged children. And now, Bettis has moved
on to a new spotlight, that of NBC studio analyst for Football
Night in America on Sundays. NBC hasn’t had NFL broadcast
rights since 1998, and given the high-profile handoff of Monday
Night Football franchise from ABC to ESPN this season, the new
on-camera players are under scrutiny. Bring ’em on, Bettis says.
“I haven’t been intimidated at all,” he says. “I’ve spent my entire pro career being scrutinized, on the biggest stage in the world.
Nothing can embarrass me—especially after that fumble. Right
now, I consider myself a reporter.”
DO YOUR HOMEWORK
To that end, Bettis has invested countless hours preparing and
hunting down the strategies, comings-and-goings and other
nuances that emerge within every pro team. Many studio jocks
earn huge reputations by being outrageous and generating
controversy (NBA commentator Charles Barkley immediately
comes to mind). Bettis doesn’t perceive himself in that mold.
“I’ve got to be me,” he says. “I can’t generate controversy just
for the sake of generating controversy.”
So, if you’re not going for sizzling headlines, you better come
prepared. Troy Aikman of Fox brings new meaning to the concept
of vanilla when it comes to his on-air persona, but he’s a top
analyst because he knows the sport so well. And Bettis realizes
that network TV has not always been kind to ex-jocks, that running backs in particular have had rough stretches, especially in
prime time. Hall of Famer Eric Dickerson, for example, recently
bombed in embarrassing fashion as a sideline reporter for Monday
Night, seemingly equal parts unprepared and uninspired.
Bettis is determined not to go the same path. Every day, he
goes online to call up individual team sites and newspapers to
get a sense of the state of the entire league. He’s checking in
regularly with players, coaches and team executives he knew
