Leaf’s Maturity Wrapped in a Blankie

Revisited the punk, you know, “Baby Boy,” as teammate Junior Seau calls Ryan Leaf, and got the evil eyes.

We used to call them “eyebrows,” when our 3-year-old responded with an obstinate scowl. From a 22-year-old, needing a nap and apparently missing his blankie, it’s hard not to laugh.

This was progress, though, because after approaching him in front of his Charger locker and saying, “Ryan Leaf. Hello. Ryan Leaf. Ryan Leaf,” he wouldn’t even raise his head.

How odd, because reports from San Diego suggested everything was all right, Ryan Leaf had grown up, even taken the “high road,” as Billy Devaney, director of player personnel, had said in a radio interview.

“Right now he seems terrific,” General Manager Bobby Beathard said. “He listened, and I honestly believe he’s getting better.”

OK, let’s see. Sentenced to cover the Charger-Raider game in Oakland on Sunday, and not always getting to the losing team’s locker room after the game, I figured I’d better chat now with a more mature Leaf, and joined several other writers during the team’s appointed time.

The other writers hail from San Diego, and having experience in dealing with Leaf, approach him like a mass murderer unchained, afraid to say the wrong thing lest they set him off.

“Coach Gilbride thought last week was your best game--do you sense the same kind of progress?” asked one reporter, glossing over the fact that Leaf hasn’t thrown a touchdown pass since the first game of the season.

“You checked off a couple times, got rid of the ball when you had to and looked like a pro out there, like a veteran?” said another, falling one step shy of inducting him into the Hall of Fame.

Leaf is used to being placated, and so it was a nice marriage.

“What’s the most difficult thing to grasp about this NFL game so far?” I asked, and maybe it wasn’t vintage Mike Wallace or Terry Bradshaw. I know I could have asked him about hitting on another quarterback’s wife earlier this year, or getting blasted with Kerry Collins or throwing a football at the head of a reporter whom he didn’t like, but one must not stray from style.

Leaf, however, turned his head so far to the left to avoid the question that there were visions of Linda Blair whirling all the way around and throwing up in “The Exorcist.” I stepped behind a radio guy.

“Somebody else ask a question,” Leaf croaked.

A TV camera crew moved in--you never know with this kid, there’s always a chance to sell explosive videotape to ESPN, CNN, Howard Stern. A better chance certainly than waiting for Charger game highlights.

“That question was for you,” I said. After all, I have a 22-year-old of my own and she doesn’t always hear me, if you know what I mean.

Leaf’s neck had to be hurting.

“I want somebody else to ask a question,” he insisted, and because he was sitting, he couldn’t stamp his foot.

One of the other reporters came to the rescue: “Things must have been tough on you the last few weeks?” and seeing the relief on Leaf’s face you would have thought someone had just found his binkie.

“You look at the world and realize your problems are really minimal,” Leaf said, undoubtedly thinking that one day he will be asked to speak at the United Nations. “You go out there and have fun, and you know you’re going to struggle at times. . . . “

After mentioning Mike Price, his college coach at Washington State, in another answer, I asked if Chris Mortensen’s report on ESPN that he calls Coach Price every day for support was accurate.

“Is that it?” he said.

Suddenly I felt like Patrick Swayze in “Ghost,” only I didn’t feel the love.

I’d hoped at some time in our conversation to be helpful and recommend that Leaf no longer donate $100 to youngsters in need for every touchdown pass thrown, because if he truly wanted to help, he would cough up $100 for every interception.

But now Scott Yoffe, the team official assigned baby-sitting duties during Leaf’s interview, sensing another outburst, tried stepping in to save Leaf: “You got to get going, Ryan.”

Leaf said, “No. I’m fine. Just sitting here to see if there are any more questions.”

There were plenty, but no answers, and once again no accountability.

Leaf has not changed. Instead, everything has been glossed over to give him a better chance to play better football. That is the NFL way.

The most important thing, of course, is to keep athletes happy, throwing touchdown passes and winning. It starts before high school, gains momentum through college, and a lot of things can be overlooked, if the payoff is athletic success.

“Ryan’s having fun again and making great strides,” said Beathard, which means his head is in the huddle and the Chargers may have a chance to be more competitive.

The Chargers, like most everyone else along the way, let the gifted athlete off the hook. There were no fines, no discipline of any sort, Beathard said.

“We talked to him,” he said.

Team owner Dean Spanos was unable to make his employee apologize for a week after Leaf had embarrassed himself nationally, further damaging a team that fell more than 10,000 tickets shy of sellout in its last home game.

The city of San Diego should be outraged, because it had to buy those 10,000 tickets in the form of rent credits for the Chargers.

Spanos called Leaf in to talk, Leaf then turned around and showed up the boss, delivering a bratty 82-second interview to the San Diego media. Anywhere else in the working world, and that young man would have been printing his resume at the local Kinko’s.

Spanos did not respond to an interview request, providing Leaf with a new role model, but maybe the most telling insight into Leaf is what’s not said.

“Is he just a spoiled brat?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” said Beathard, and he could have said no.

After last week’s game with Indianapolis and quarterback Peyton Manning, Charger Coach Kevin Gilbride said everything there was to say about Leaf without mentioning his name.

“[Manning] is a very mature guy,” Gilbride said. “He’s handling everything thrown at him very maturely.”

In a span of just weeks, the Chargers frittered away the uplifting impact of arming themselves with a franchise quarterback and instead have become the laughingstock of the league.

“Our approach was firm and I think we feel it’s helped him and helped everything,” Beathard said.

The Chargers were never firm, the situation unraveling on them day-by-day, and now they believe a few touchdown passes will cure everything. That will deliver a fine message to the youth of San Diego, who wear No. 16 and adopt Leaf as their role model.

Where were the Chargers’ public relations experts? At any point during that first week after his outburst, had Leaf gone public with an apology, most likely all would have been dismissed and forgiven as a young man faltering under pressure. But no one insisted on adultlike behavior, no one got through to him, no one put him over their knee.

This is the way he has lived his life in checking with those who have known him in high school and then college. This is the way he acted in training camp, the know-it-all who apparently never received a lesson in respect. He has permission to remain childish, so long as he can win football games.

His father finally wrote a statement of apology for him to read, a statement that lacked any mention of Leaf being sorry, and after Leaf delivered it, he crumpled it up and tossed it back into his locker--one last “take that,” for everyone.

And now this from the Chargers:

“I swear, he’s coming around; we’ve seen a big difference,” Beathard said. “I believe he’s getting better in both areas--on the football field and those other things. You aren’t here to see all the good sides of the guy. He works his butt off. . . . “

To improve as a football player. That’s why the Chargers are willing to excuse him, explaining that he’s young, that he’s emotional, that he has always been like this. He sure can throw that ball.

“He’s got a great future,” Beathard said. “I don’t believe he’s going to jeopardize that great future.”

Based on what?