McKyer Puts Up, but Won’t Shut Up : NFL: Atlanta cornerback critiques other teams and brags about his capabilities. He’s also talented.

It’s a match made in heaven, or maybe hell, depending on your perspective.

The NFL establishment, many of the players and most of the fans in San Francisco and Miami would decidedly point to the latter, but Tim McKyer and Jerry Glanville figure they’re just a couple of kindred free spirits who have found a home in Atlanta.

McKyer, never one to let his actions speak for him, is working on another chapter of his story, which undoubtedly will be titled “How to Make Enemies and Ensure People Will Ignore Your Accomplishments,” if it ever gets to print.

On the eve of a game against the 49ers two weeks ago, the brash Falcon cornerback predicted he would beat his former teammates with a game-saving interception. He intercepted two fourth-quarter passes in a 39-34 Atlanta victory, but before anyone could say, “He’s a jerk, but he is good,” McKyer had jumped to his feet and was doing a dance for the San Francisco crowd, replete with wobbly legs and obscene gestures.

Glanville, who might end up in a legal fight with McKyer over the rights to that book title one day, is able to see through McKyer’s personality flaws. And he likes what he sees.

“You know, you can’t change how people perceive you,” he said, “but it’s gotten confused with Tim. He’s said some things that we all do. And far be it from me (to judge), I’ve done the same thing. It’s sort of like baggage that’s in the trunk of the car and you can’t get rid of it. Stick around 10 or 12 years, and it’s still there.

“Maybe he’s changed. But anybody that doesn’t like the way he comes to work, prepares and plays, doesn’t like football. He’s played real, real well. He’s a guy capable of intercepting the ball on the deep throws. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a guy who can go get the deep ball like he does. We’re fortunate to have him.”

McKyer shares the NFC lead in interceptions with four. He had seven in one season with the 49ers and six in another. He had four last year with Miami. In 5 1/2 years in the league, he has 24 interceptions in 74 games.

But then nobody ever doubted his ability. They were too busy being disgusted with his off-the-field showboating. Coaches such as Bill Walsh, George Seifert and Don Shula prefer players who keep their boasts, predictions and derogatory opinions about other players to themselves.

McKyer, of course, never kept anything to himself.

He says it’s different when you play for Glanville, though.

“I feel like I’ve been released from prison,” McKyer said. “I can be myself. I’m judged on how many plays I make, which is all I always asked for. I’ve got it here.”

And he’s really just misunderstood.

“I don’t make bold comments, I just state the truth. The writers and media perceive me as this loudmouth guy who’s always starting trouble. I can’t shake that and I’m not even trying. I don’t have drug problems. I don’t have alcohol problems. I never had (legal) problems. I’m as clean as they come. Unfortunately, I got this label and no one ever wants to talk about what a good football player I am.

“But I’m not bitter. All I do is knock balls down and intercept passes and then I go home and kiss my lovely wife.”

McKyer has done his share of knocking all right, but his target isn’t always a spiraling football.

His battles with 49er management--considered by most players and agents to be one of the most facilitating franchises in pro sports--are legendary. During the playoffs in 1989, he said his employers were racists. He had already spent the better part of two years ripping the front office and the coach and pleading to be traded.

In ‘89, a salary dispute flared into a three-week suspension for insubordination. Team sources said McKyer had indicated to Seifert he wouldn’t put out his best effort in a game against the Saints. McKyer claims he told Seifert he would play, but might not be 100% because of a groin injury.

McKyer blamed the injury on the 49ers. They wouldn’t pay him what he deserved so he was forced to hold out. He missed all but the last week of training camp and wasn’t in proper shape when he injured his groin in the season opener.

His two-year, $1.2-million deal did make him one of the 10 best-paid cornerbacks in the league, but he felt the 49ers should have offered him at least that much at the beginning of negotiations.

McKyer missed five weeks with the injury, and then whatever was said between McKyer and Seifert in that New Orleans hotel room resulted in the suspension, all of which meant the Miami Dolphins got one heck of a cornerback for a second-round pick in 1991 and an 11th pick in ’90.

But things didn’t go all that smoothly in Miami, either. McKyer didn’t like the Dolphins’ zone defense and he didn’t like being told when he could play bump-and-run and when he had to stay back. And he was still grabbing a lot more headlines than errant passes.

McKyer decided to exchange Christmas greetings with Kansas City corner Albert Lewis by critiquing the capabilities of the Chiefs’ secondary after Houston’s Warren Moon threw for 527 yards against them.

Lewis called McKyer “ignorant.”

McKyer wasted no time replying: “The record shows that (the Oilers) had the second-highest total in history. That is a fact. That is written down. So, before he calls me ignorant, let him first know what ignorant means.”

Ouch.

“I don’t talk too much, I just state the truth,” McKyer says. “Coming in my rookie year, I never did get the credit I deserved from the organization or my head coach, Bill Walsh, and it’s been downhill ever since.

“Having the type of early years I had at San Francisco and not getting any recognition, then getting the bad-mouth labels because of constant contract disputes, it all resulted in the negative press. It hurts me on endorsements and (Pro Bowl votes), but as long as I’m still working, I’m happy.

“I’ll just go out and knock balls down and intercept passes. Can’t no one deny that.”

There is another side to Tim McKyer.

He drives a Volkswagen Rabbit. While in Miami, he made regular trips to Dade County Jail to speak to prisoners. Every Saturday, he spoke to youngsters at a Miami church. He stressed the importance of education to youth groups.

“If you can reach one child and help turn them around or comfort them, it’s worth it,” McKyer said. “Young people need to know what matters most is where you’re going and that you fight to get there.”

McKyer grew up in a government housing project in Orlando with seven brothers and two sisters. His father was killed when he was 10. While attending Texas-Arlington, McKyer worked as a garbage man and on a loading dock during the summer to help support his family.

After signing his first professional contract, he bought his mother, Lillie, a new Oldsmobile and a four-bedroom house.

Texas-Arlington had dropped football for financial reasons after his senior year, so McKyer sent game films of himself to NFL scouts while his former college coaches were out looking for employment. He promoted himself up into the third round.

And he’s been promoting himself ever since.

“People talk about how modest Joe Montana is; well, if you’ve got the whole world patting you on the back all the time, it’s easy to be modest,” McKyer told the New York Times. “Sometimes, I say the things I do about myself because no one will say them for me.”

McKyer’s accomplishments on the field could not have gone entirely unnoticed. During his first three seasons in the NFL, he started every game except the three strike games in 1987. He led all rookies in interceptions with six and was the 49er team leader in passes defended with 23. In 1987, he again led the team in passes defended. In ‘89, he led the team in interceptions with seven.

But McKyer felt unappreciated and he let everyone know about it. His former coaches certainly didn’t appreciate his complaining, and teammates wearied of listening to him talk trash.

Glanville, who’s been the ringmaster of many a media circus, doesn’t seem to mind.

“We have rules, but we don’t harness the truth if it happens to be the truth and the truth upsets people,” he said. “But you know, I never hear Tim say a word. I don’t think he’s even spoken once in a practice or meeting.

“All he does is come to work, work especially hard, and study. I leave real late, but when I get here in the morning, McKyer’s already here studying the film.”

The study has been paying off--he has three interceptions in the last two games. Eddie DeBartolo Jr., the 49er owner, hopes McKyer will have to pay for his “dance” in San Francisco. He wants the league to fine McKyer.

McKyer thinks he’s going to have the last laugh, though, considering the state of the once-proud 49er and Dolphin defenses. San Francisco has the No. 2-ranked offense in the league and just a 3-4 record to show for it. Miami’s defense, ranked No. 1 in the league much of last year, has plummeted to No. 24.

“If you don’t have good corners, it’s going to cost you,” McKyer said. “It’s a critical position, contrary to what people might want to believe, and the teams with the better ones usually have better defenses and better records. I’m sure my absence on both of those teams is felt because I’m a guy who goes out and does his job and does it well.

“Every week is a challenge when you go out to play corner in the National Football League. If I’m not on top of my game, I’ll get beat. It happens to the best. That’s what I always said I wanted, and believe me, God answered my prayers.”

OK, so a lot of people around the league are praying that McKyer either shuts up or goes away, or both. They too will have their wishes granted, he says.

“Look at Ronnie Lott. See, everybody’s going to come to that day when they say, ‘We don’t need you anymore.’ I know that day’s coming to me, so I’ll just keep knocking down balls and intercepting passes until I can’t do it anymore. Then I’m gone. End of story. Lights out.”

Turn off the tape recorder on your way out.