Jim Kelly Tells It as Only He Can : Despite Criticism, Bill Quarterback : Says His Aim Has Been True

BUFFALO, N.Y. —  ROBB WAS RIGHT

Well, here we are with another so-called verbal attack on Jim Kelly. I hate to sound like a party pooper, but I don’t think there was anything wrong with what Robb Riddick said. The media in Buffalo doesn’t seem to mind when Jim Kelly says something about his teammates or the fans for that matter. But they all jump to defend him when someone goes against him.

ELIZABETH PEASE

Amherst, N.Y.

It’s Saturday. Do you know where your quarterback’s head is?

When the Buffalo News sports section runs its letters, many focus on Jim Kelly’s most recent contribution to the Bills’ effort and the larger community.

Emotions are running high locally. Before the playoff game against the Houston Oilers, the Bills’ first at home in 22 years, writers worried in print for a week about the possibility of bad weather. Hey, if Chicago was beset by fog, Buffalo could get hit with so much snow, they might not find either team till July.

Truly, what did they have to worry about? If game day turned out warm and clear, as it did, did they think people were going to decide it was a resort area and make plans to move?

One person who can’t believe they’d be all over such a deserving person as Jim Kelly, is Jim Kelly, which is how he often refers to himself--by both names, in the third person--and is part of the problem.

In the china shop of public sensibilities, Jim Kelly is a bull running wind sprints.

Those critical fans?

“Those are people who probably had bets on the game, and we didn’t cover the spread. They got . . . off,” Kelly says.

“I don’t consider them fans.”

Teammate Robb Riddick, who said Kelly wasn’t doing the job he’s being paid for?

“Consider the source,” Kelly says.

Those blue-collar fans, who are turned off by Kelly’s salary?

“Being the millionaire I am, people are always going to think I’m overpaid,” Kelly says.

“There are probably just a few. They’re the jealous people. Or they’ve really never had anything, or had something and had to bust their . . .

“The people who know what it takes to get there, they’re the ones that know I deserve it.”

But just when you’re tempted to write him off as a jocko with a bad case of himself . . .

“He’s a good guy,” said Raider linebacker Matt Millen, who gives out praise carefully.

“I recruited him for Penn State. He’s from East Brady, south of Pittsburgh. Joe (Paterno) wanted him as a linebacker. He was going to play him inside.

“Jim’s a big, strong kid, a down-to-earth guy, beer-drinking type. Very competitive. He won’t back down to anything.

“A big head? Not unless he’s changed recently. I can imagine he’d be rough for you (press) guys because he doesn’t care about publicity at all. He’s the kind of guy who’d fight you, rather than run away to protect his image.”

Says a Buffalo writer: “He’s a small-town, western Pennsylvania street kid. He has the best of intentions, but all he really cares about is football, partying and his family.

“He has enormous confidence. (Nose tackle) Fred Smerlas says Jim thinks he can run faster, block better and tackle better than anyone on the team. He may have annoyed them all at one time or another, but they all love him.”

Kelly can, in fact, do just about anything. He’s 6 feet 3 inches, 220 pounds. He was an all-state basketball forward who took tiny Brady High to the state championship, averaging 23 points and 20 rebounds a game.

In 1986, on his first trip back to Miami, his former college town, he watched the local legend, Dan Marino, shoot the Dolphins to a 21-0 lead, then Kelly led a rally that pulled the game out.

This season, he got his face pushed into the artificial turf by 285-pound Donnell Thompson as the Indianapolis Colts took a 17-0 lead. He lost the feeling on the left side of his face, and his left eye closed--and stayed in to lead the Bills to a 34-23 victory.

There have been some problems.

In his first couple of seasons, he threw 41 touchdown passes, and 28 interceptions.

This season, his numbers were 15 and 17, and he has had no touchdown passes and 1 interception in the playoffs.

Guess what those bettors, et al., in the stands said?

Yeah, says the famous quarterback, well, what do they know?

“The thing is, we were 12-4 and won the Eastern Division and I’m still getting flak from everybody,” says Kelly, amiably enough.

“I’ve thrown for 15 touchdowns this year, and we ran the ball most of the time inside the 10-yard line. . . . Look at Marino and some of the others. They love to throw the ball inside the 5--that’s how you get another 10 touchdown passes. But Jim Kelly was content to get the ball into the end zone.

“I’d never complain. I’m the type of player, a win’s a win.

“I could have complained that we gave Robb Riddick the ball every time when we were inside the 5-yard line. (But) I’ve always been a team player.

“Did the fans bother me? At the beginning . . .

“But I don’t let anybody really tell me what kind of a person I’m going to be. I’ve always been brought up to say what’s on my mind. I’ve always been that way, but I’ve always watched not to say the wrong thing.”

This was a typical Kelly interview, which means that he’ll be pleasant, toss out a rationalization or two, and then start champing at the bit to leave.

Smerlas, who was starved for attention for years, says now that the Bills are going to have to get fly swatters to knock the writers off.

And guess which Bill gets the really big press rush?

And how much does Kelly need to hear any of this?

The countdown to his National Football League playoff debut was enlivened by Riddick’s comments; by an attempt by a Texas bank, which contends he defaulted on a $500,000 loan, to serve him with legal papers, and by enough critical letters to the editor to buckle the average mail carrier’s knees.

Then Kelly went out and helped beat the Oilers, with a vintage 19-for-33, only-1-interception performance.

“I’ve always been the type, nothing really bothers me,” Kelly says. “Look at all the stuff that’s hit me the last 2 weeks. Ninety-five percent of the people would have had a nervous breakdown.”

Why not change his life style, to avoid setting everyone off?

“Change what?” asks Kelly, incredulously.

“I ain’t changing anything for anybody. . . . There’s not one person in this world who can change the way Jim Kelly went about his life.

“I enjoy my life. I have a clean life. Why should I listen to other people?”

Actually, he might have gone over the line at least once in his clean life. Civil action is still proceeding from an incident in which he allegedly grabbed a woman by the throat in a Buffalo bar.

Now, Kelly entertains at home, in a huge bar he had built in, roomy enough for him and several friends to party hearty but discreetly.

In this 28-year-old life, this represents maturity.

“I don’t do anything illegal,” he says. “I don’t do anything I feel is wrong. Hell, I’m the one who raises $300,000 a year for charity, which never gets blown up.”

Onto every life, no matter how privileged, a little snow must fall.

It’s the morning of the Oiler game. Don Federico, a local cabbie, speeds a visitor to Rich Stadium, and complains about Kelly.

“He said he didn’t want to play in Buffalo,” Federico says. “I haven’t forgotten.”

Federico, on an early-late shift, picks up his ride after the game.

“Quarterback played a great game,” he says.

They pass a billboard, from which Kelly’s smoothly shaven face is peering sincerely into the camera, advertising a credit card with a 13.9% carrying charge.

“Tough life,” Federico says.

Ask Jim Kelly. Federico doesn’t know the half of it.