Farris Parked by Injury

Kris Farris, the large Mission Viejo contribution to the NFL, sits in his rented condo in suburban Pittsburgh. His right foot is in a cast, his rookie season as a Pittsburgh Steeler on hold for a year, and even over the phone you can hear a hint of anger in his voice, maybe a touch of disgust, a pinch of cynicism.

“I don’t think I want to comment on that at all,” Farris says. He is being asked about what he thinks of that whole handicapped parking scandal thing at his old stomping grounds, UCLA. He knows the jokes will probably be made. You know, something about how Farris could use one of those handicapped placards about now, as he hobbles around with a right ankle that was thought to be sprained and turned out to have a stress fracture instead.

Some people close to Farris have said that the 6-foot-8, 322-pound right tackle, a third-round pick last spring who was the largest lineman ever drafted by the Steelers, is not happy with how some of his former teammates have handled the scandal. Farris is a smart, plain-speaking man, but when this subject is broached he suddenly begins choosing his words carefully. “If I were still on the team,” Farris says, “I’d say something. But I’m not. So I don’t think it’s fair that I comment.”

Yes, Farris says, he feels badly that last year’s Bruin team is being embarrassed publicly, and he notes that many players who never used the ill-gotten placards, who would never consider using them, might be considered guilty by association. And that there is a perception that maybe the team, as a whole, still doesn’t get it. But it is not his place, Farris says, to talk about this. And even over the phone you can practically hear Farris having to hold his tongue, bite his lip, swallow his words.

And, really, Farris has his own troubles now.

When he won the 1998 Outland Trophy, which signified that Farris was the best collegiate interior lineman in the country, and after he participated in UCLA’s horrifying season-ending losses to Miami and Wisconsin, Farris went through an angst-inducing exercise of stay or go. Play one more year at UCLA, where he had fun, where he was pursuing his other dream of becoming a film director, or head off to the NFL, where Farris was hearing that he might be a first-round draft pick.

Since he is sitting in Pittsburgh, you can tell. He left UCLA. Even now, Farris is afraid that his former coach, Bob Toledo, is disappointed in him. Instead of being a first-round pick, Farris became the 74th overall selection, lasting until the third round when he went to the Steelers. This disappointment only made Farris more eager to work, so he hired a personal trainer, a former Mr. Universe named Chuck Williams, and worked like a maniac all summer.

“I lifted, I ran, I did everything I could,” Farris says. His ankle had been sore since May, sore enough that he sat out Pittsburgh’s second mini-camp, but the diagnosis was a sprain, and Farris wasn’t even sure when the ankle had been hurt. “I guess I rolled it over when I was running,” he says, “but I can’t even tell you for sure when it happened.”

It was on the opening day of training camp, when Farris ran through all the conditioning drills, turned so pale that Steeler quarterback Kordell Stewart asked the rookie if he was OK, and then nearly passed out from the pain in his ankle that Farris suspected something really bad.

“All summer it would hurt some days, be fine others, but when I got done with those drills it hurt so bad, I was freaking out,” Farris says. “I mean, here it is, my first NFL training camp, my first day, and I’m almost passing out.”

What followed was a series of X-rays. What showed up first was, according to Farris, “a bunch of tiny cracks.” An MRI exam turned up the stress fracture. What came next was the really hard part.

“The decision was made to put me on IR [injured reserve],” Farris says. “I’d kept some hope in my mind that the final X-rays would show some improvement, but it wasn’t happening. It was going to be two or three months before I could think about working out. As disappointed as I was, I know I can’t stay that way.

“What I decided was to think positively. This would have been so much worse if I’d still been at UCLA. I’d be heartbroken, having to spend the end of my career on the bench. Instead, I have to look at it that I’m just postponing the start of a long NFL career by a year.”

Being a smart guy, Farris knows what can happen to injured rookies. It could be tempting to kick back and rest, to maybe go home to Mission Viejo, to say he’d rehab on his own and see you guys next year. Farris also knows that he wants to be seen as a Steeler, as a good teammate, as someone to be counted on.

“I make it a point to be the first one on site every morning,” Farris says. “I want to try and learn something every day. I warm up, I go in the pool, run in the pool, use the exercise facilities. I’m not going to be allowed to suit up or work with the team at all, but I can go to the other side of the field and do whatever. Every day I quiz myself. What would I do in this situation, in that situation. I want to be part of everything and prove myself as much as I can.”

So Farris is continuing to be a good teammate. He will not focus on how he had a good chance to win the starting right tackle position with the Steelers and now he can’t. Instead he concentrates on becoming a better-conditioned, better-informed student of the Steeler offensive schemes for next season. And, no, there is not a handicapped parking pass in his possession. Even if he might actually deserve one.

Diane Pucin can be reached at her e-mail address: diane.pucin@latimes.com