Miami Dolphins' star goes from Drugs to Yoga!

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"Dolphins' Ricky Williams keeps evolving at 32
Always interesting, mercurial Dolphin Williams gets wise at 32
Dave Hyde | Sports Columnist


He awakens by 6 a.m. each day and enters a room in his home set up just for this ritual. It's empty. It's quiet. He takes a seat and says a prayer, a simple prayer, often for the likes of good health and good friends.

"And that the linemen open holes," Ricky Williams says.

Amen.

He'll then concentrate on his surroundings — some noise outside, any spot on the wall — to begin clearing his head. Sometimes it takes a while. One night last week, for instance, he dreamed he had been cut by the Dolphins and couldn't chase the thought.

"That's my insecurity over turning 32," he said.

A focus on breathing comes next. Deep in. Cleansing out. Again. And again. And on his good mornings, as his mind relaxes, as his body follows, as his world fades into the next breath, Ricky enters a deep meditative state for 20, 30, even 60 minutes.

"That's my excitement these days," he says.

After all the years and all the stories, Ricky can laugh at himself. And still interest you. And surprise you. There's no one quite like him in sports. Maybe that's not a bad thing, either.

He has done it all. He led the league in rushing. He retired to a tent in Australia. He taught yoga in California under the Hindu name Rudra. He showed up at Dolphins camp wearing only white ("For purity," he said — and the next year said he was wearing anything but red (That's for a flashier personality than I am.")

Now, look, his calendar flipped to 32 last week.

"Older and wiser," he says, smiling softly.

Here's a story: Williams wanted a car for his birthday. A Dodge Challenger. Something about it appealed to him in the way his Ferrari and Hummer once did. But he resigned himself to the fact he wasn't getting it. No chance, he said. Why?

"My financial adviser says I can't," he said.

There's no getting around it: The player no one was sure would grow up is getting old by football standards. And no one seems to understand it better than him.

"Two more years," he says of his career.

Outside of Hollywood and Hogwarts, NFL running backs don't last past 35. Most don't last past 30. LaDainian Tomlinson, Jamal Lewis and Brian Westbrook are 30 now and seem like dinosaurs.

Only Warrick Dunn at 34, Fred Taylor at 33 and a two-months-older Sammy Morris have more mileage than Ricky and among the league's top 40 rushers (Ricky finished 33rd with 659 yards). You can say Williams is a young 32 because of injury and drug suspensions. But he carried offenses for years with a running style built on punishment.

"When I was younger, I got the benefit of the doubt from people because of my talent," he said. "Now, as I'm older, I won't get that. I don't deserve it. I never took a day off in practice, but now I make sure that I don't. I'm working hard. "

He likes it here, too. People always ask Williams if he's happy, as if that was his issue all those years. His story isn't complicated. Happiness was never the issue. Football was.

"I've been happy a lot in life, but the difference now is I'm happy in football," he said. "I fit in well here."

He talks of his respect for Tony Sparano, his friendship with Ronnie Brown, his first meeting Bill Parcells after a game in 2003 when Parcells, the Dallas coach, said, "I like the way you play."

His playing style was never the issue. His lifestyle was. Ask if he's still tempted by marijuana, and he answers the way most people with a problem do. "There's always temptation in life, and my life is no different," he said.

Ask how he's different now than a few years ago and he says, "Humility."

Ask what it's like to be 32, he says, "I know I've lived more in 32 years than many people live in their whole life."

Thankfully, the story line with Ricky has slowed some. But the story itself is just as interesting. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ricky, at 32, all grown up. It's something to meditate on."