Taylor’s Game Shouts for Hall

Lawrence Taylor is on the phone, and though you can’t see him or touch him, he’s blowing right through the loudspeaker with the same intensity he once showed on the blitz.

L.T.’s coming fast. L.T.’s hitting hard. L.T. just made your ear feel like Joe Theismann’s leg.

L.T.’s yelling defiantly: “Hey, I don’t apologize for anything.”

Hopefully, L.T. was loud enough for the Pro Football Hall of Fame voters to hear.

Taylor shouldn’t have to beg for understanding and forgiveness and apologize his way right through the hallowed doors of the Hall. They do accept great football players there, don’t they? End of story then. L.T. belongs.

This doesn’t exactly rank up there with paper vs. plastic as one of the great debates of our time. To even classify it as a debate is a reach. Taylor did not bring shame to the game; just to himself. And if he can deal with it, then so can we.

“I have no one to answer to except one person, and that’s God Almighty,” he said.

Well, not quite. There’s something that God can’t do. He can’t cast a ballot for Taylor on Saturday, when the votes for the Hall candidates are taken and counted. Taylor won’t face the music with his creator until he dies. But in a few days, he must stand trial before 36 members of the selection committee.

And if eight decide that Taylor’s destructive personal life, which includes an ongoing battle with drugs, isn’t worth their vote, then the best defensive player in modern times will have finally found a blocker he couldn’t beat.

Of course, that was always an effective way to stop Taylor, by clipping him.

The same obsessive behavior that made Taylor plunge into a deep and dark world also helped him revolutionize the linebacker position. He lived both of his lives recklessly with the Giants. It hurt him on Saturday night and helped him the next afternoon.

Teams spent a whole week trying to prevent him from screwing up their Sundays. Few Hall of Fame defensive players can make that boast. So this really isn’t about the career Taylor had. There’s no need to list Pro Bowls, All-Pro teams, fumbles caused, sacks, interceptions or the number of disabled quarterbacks.

This is about the number of drug busts.

Taylor has had two drug arrests and admitted Monday that he’s back in rehab, trying to cleanse himself from his latest lapse. His financial world is also a mess, after Taylor blew a fortune, saw the collapse of risky business ventures and declared for bankruptcy.

But those vacillating on Taylor for the Hall of Fame should understand the impact and context of his crimes. None had anything to do with football. He’s not the Pete Rose of his sport. Most occurred after he retired, and if his post-football lifestyle is to be weighed heavily, then the same examination should take place with the other Hall candidates.

And if this is truly about tough standards, then someone should give the Moral Police a search warrant to canvass the Hall.

“If you’re going to start going through off-field things,” said Taylor, his voice still rising, “then you might have to kick out half the people in that Hall of Fame now.”

The Hall is meant to celebrate athletic achievement, not personal accomplishment. Taylor’s no hot candidate for that. He has brought hurt to himself and his family. Others who admired Taylor, the football player, have the right to be disappointed with the lifestyle choices he made.

“Yes, I’ve had problems in my life,” L.T. said, “and I stand guilty. ‘Has L.T. ever been through controversy? Guilty. Will he go through more controversy? Guilty.’ I’m guilty of those problems, yes.

“If you’re asking me to apologize or be remorseful for what I’ve done, I can’t do that. There are things that set people apart. We make our choices and we deal with the consequences. I thank God I’m alive. I’m thankful that I’m even able to sit here and have this conversation.”

Over the phone, L.T. sounded like a work in progress. He paused. “I go day by day,” he said. “That’s the way I live my life.”

So he copes. He doesn’t apologize but at the same time, he has regrets. Why shouldn’t he? As great as he was, Taylor should be universally celebrated this week, as the buildup for the Super Bowl begins.

“I guess there’s something in all our lives we wish we could change,” he said. “Unfortunately, we can’t. So I go on and try to live my life to the best of my ability every day. I’ll tell you right now, my life is pretty good.”

By coincidence, he’s close by, shooting a movie in South Florida with director Oliver Stone. “On Any Given Sunday” is the film’s title, and Taylor plays a linebacker on his last legs. He hopes to launch a second career from this, if the movie’s a hit.

“It’s tiring, but rewarding,” Taylor said. “After work, I feel just like after a game. I’m mentally tired and I’m physically tired.”

He said he won’t be standing by the phone Saturday, nervously awaiting his fate. An appointment to the Hall would be enjoyed more by family members, Taylor said. They’re the ones who’ll suffer if eight members of the committee vote no.

“It’s not my call,” Taylor said. “I leave my fate to the voters. Whatever happens, happens. I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”

But you know that it’s all a shield by Taylor, to ease the pain in case he’s rejected. He wants to be in the Hall. He wants Giants owner Wellington Mara, who repeatedly has tried to rescue Taylor, or Bill Parcells to induct him.

For this one time, L.T. would welcome a bust.