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Jason Peters new book out

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By PhillyHusker,
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HUSKER 37 Assistant Coach

HUSKER 37

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I hope his book does well but I am just not a fan of his.

 

How can you not be a fan of his??? He is one of the best DL to ever play at NU..IMO. The intensity is unmatched!

 

For sure!! Him, Christian, Tomich and Wistrom!! Those were the days!!

 

 

 

Ok let me rephrase that. I am not a fan of him NOW, ;)

 

Why not?

Because he's outspoken (Almost Whiny) on the former Coaching Staff and players attitudes?

Because he's always going to be recovering from being addicted to Pain meds?

Because he showed support of his Brother Christian even after he'd given the program a black eye by assaulting a couple of co-eds at a couple of Bars?

 

I'm grateful Jason played for us and even appreciate his insight on the program however obnoxious he gets.

He was a good student and a good team leader...And we'd probably have 1 or 2 fewer MNC's without him.

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HUSKER 37 Assistant Coach

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Former NU player Jason Peter's secrets revealed in tell-all book

 

INTERVIEW WITH TOM SHATEL

 

 

Q: Are you surprised you're still alive?

JP: Yeah. Even to this day, I'll get calls from guys I met at various stages of rehab. They'll say, "You remember Johnny? He's dead. He OD'd." When you go through this, you think you're invincible, nothing will ever hold you down. I always thought, "I'll stop whenever I want." I justified it at the time I was playing football, with the pain pills. I needed it to play football. Was I banged up with injuries? Absolutely. Is that the reason I eventually became addicted? No. That was all on me. That's why people who don't know my story will say, he's just another drug addict. But it started somewhere. It started brewing with all of those injuries. I knew I liked how I felt when I took those pills at Nebraska. But I didn't have the means then or the money.

 

 

 

 

Jason Peter was an All-America defensive tackle at Nebraska.Q: You also thought about suicide more than once?

JP: Oh, yeah. You get to a point where the highs aren't what they were when you started. With the pills and the opium and the heroin, you develop a tolerance. It takes more and more to get to that high. The biggest battle I had was like, how do I get my hands on pain pills today? I was scamming all these doctors and pharmacies. It became work. And that part began outweighing the part where I took pills and didn't worry about anything. My football career was over. And, you know, football to me was everything. I got started late in my junior year in high school, but that was my passion. Through all of these rehab centers, they wanted to know what my passion was. But I couldn't go back and get that (football). I mean, this wasn't me walking out on my terms, like Grant (Wistrom), saying I've played nine years - that's enough. This was me sitting in a room with George Seifert and Marty Hurney, the GM at Carolina, and the head trainer, and they're saying, "We can't clear you to play football again. You'll never do what you want to do ever again."

 

Q: Should the NFL have a program to help guys adjust to life after football?

JP: The NFL has something. But here's the thing. I'm 25 years old and some guy is going to come up to me and say, "Jason, we have to meet for an hour about life after football." I'm like, "Who are you kidding? I'm going to play for 12 years, I'm going to go into the Hall of Fame." I wasn't thinking about life after football. I was trying to survive being in it. It was tough for me coming from Nebraska, where I had a couple of back spasms and hurt my hand, and going to Carolina, where I had two major surgeries each year. I didn't know how to deal with that. Combine that with the fact that I liked taking the pills, at least recreationally. I had to be up at a certain time in the morning to go to practice. So I had structure in my life. When that's over, and you have nothing to do, that's when the trouble started.

 

Q: Why write a book? Is this about the money? Or is there a story here you wanted to tell?

JP: I had a story to tell. Maybe it's not a self-help book. But that doesn't mean someone still can't benefit from this thing, that a 17- or 20-year-old kid doesn't read it and say, "Man, this is the way I'm going now." Am I shocked that I came out on the other end? Yes. So I think it's got something to offer if somebody is headed down that path.

But I also was like, "Do I want to do this?" I come from good family and, for the most part, we keep things in house. This was like airing dirty laundry. That's what I was nervous about. But I also realized that I put a major dent in my wallet in terms of the money that I spent, on the hookers, on the drugs, spending nights at strip clubs until they shut it down. It took its toll. I would be lying to you if I said there wasn't financial consideration here as well.

 

Q: Is this appropriate reading for high school kids?

JP: Absolutely. I spoke at a high school in Omaha. And one of the reasons they brought me up was because they have kids who are messing around with this type of stuff, smoking weed, messing around with cocaine, pain pills. This is what these kids are doing nowadays. This should probably start with the parent, and if it's something they feel their son or daughter can learn from it, go ahead.

 

Q: How do you think Coach Osborne < will feel about this?

JP: I think he'll be shocked. I don't think anybody really understood what was happening behind those closed doors at my house. It's an in-your-face type book. Coach Osborne is a guy who lives by his faith, but that doesn't mean he's not aware of what's going on out there. I told him, "If you ever need me to come talk to the kids down there, I'll be an open book." Does it matter to me what Coach Osborne thinks about this? Absolutely. He means the world to me. But the people that will be the hardest for me to read this book are my wife, my mother and my sister.

 

Q: Has your mother read it?

JP: Yes she has, and she thinks it's a great book. My aunt, who's in the book, also thought it was amazing. They went through this with me, so they know. I think they had an idea of what was going on, but to have it in a book, out there, where there's no turning back, that's a little different.

I knew I had to be honest if this thing was going to be a quality book. That started, really, the last time I went into the rehab. You have to be honest. If you are trying to fool people there, you aren't going to make it. It's funny, because when I was doing the book, I was saying, "I don't know if I should put this in," and it was my wife who said, "You have to put this in. You have to be honest and put this stuff in there." I said, "All right, but don't divorce me when it comes out."

 

Q: What will the average Husker fan think after reading the book?

JP: Some might be disappointed. Some might have this image, maybe, in their mind that they don't want distorted. This guy who is on the (Nebraska football) All-Century team, three national championship teams. I can't control what other people think. I hope they read it and can just understand that I was just trying to tell a story that I went through, that I wasn't trying to make myself a hero or anything.

 

Q: Is there a lesson here in that people shouldn't put their heroes on pedestals?

JP: I don't know. I do admit that that was a big part of my life here. And that was a big part of my struggle after football was over. I was used to hearing those cheers. There was nobody yelling your name, telling you how good you were. But in terms of the book, am I asking for some type of hero worship because I came out of this thing? No.

There will be people that think I'm wrong for putting this stuff out there. But there will be other people who have an uncle who was a drunk or a brother who is a drug addict or a mother who pops pills all day. Most people know someone or are related to someone who has gone through some sort of addiction. This is the truth. This is what happens. This is what happened to me.

 

Q: Maybe this isn't a fair question, but if you could do anything different, what would it be?

JP: In terms of my football career, I ask myself, every single day, probably 10 times a day, what if I didn't abuse my body with all of this garbage? Most of it came post-career, but I'm sure there was some damage when I was playing. Did that affect how my body could heal? I wonder even though this is medicine doctors give you when you walk out of the hospital, they don't give you enough to abuse it. I ask myself every day: Did I do so much that my body wasn't functioning as it should? Did that affect how my body could heal? That's something I have to live with.

In terms of the addiction, if I had had a serious relationship, or had been married, that might have straightened me out. I'm so happy that I didn't. I'm so happy that I went through this. Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be married to the wife that I have now. There's a reason for everything. One way or another, I found myself out in California and met the girl of my dreams. That wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gone through this.

 

Q: How much damage did you do to your body or your brain with all the coke and heroin?

JP: I don't know. I don't know that I'll know that for a long time. I've been checked, my liver, kidneys, all that stuff, and I seem to be just fine. But you never know what that might have started. Who knows? We'll see. Do I have lapses sometimes where I kind of just forget things or lose my train of thought? Yes. But I think that's a combination of football on top of the drugs.

 

Q: How much money did you throw away?

JP: I'm not a guy who gets on a computer every day and checks. It's at least, through all the hookers and all the drugs, at least half a million dollars. It could be close to a million. I wasn't completely broke when this was over, but it was to the point where my financial adviser was telling me, "You can't live the lifestyle you think you can live." It went from one of those things if you manage things and don't do anything crazy, you don't really have to work, to now, you have to work.

It was a lot of trips to the ATM machine at 4 in the morning. That's a reason why a lot of people stop, because the money's gone. I wasn't one of these drug addicts roaming the street, trying to get a $10 fix. I was having people drop it off at my house. And I'm paying for $500 or $1,000 worth of cocaine or heroin at one time. Cash. For some of the girls, I could use my credit card.

 

Peter says in the book that there was no shining moment where he knew he had to stop; one day you just know and hopefully you are still alive to realize it. But during his last stint in rehab, his mother was taken to a hospital with a heart scare. It turned out to be stress related, but the incident deeply affected Peter, who felt more than a little guilty.

JP: Drug addicts are so caught up in their own world, they don't pay attention to what it's doing to the people around them. The addict is high all the time, so he feels good. But the mother is waiting by the phone every night. When there was the scare with her, in large part did I feel like I needed to end it with me, that it was my time? Yeah. That could have been more than 50 percent of why I stopped, because I couldn't put my mother through this anymore. I couldn't care less what happened to me.

 

What brought Peter back to Lincoln? He said it started, ironically, with an interview he did for HBO with the infamous Bernard Goldberg, the TV reporter who drew the ire of Osborne and NU fans during the Lawrence Phillips days of 1995 for his "win at all costs" profile of Osborne.

JP: I did the "HBO Real Sports." And Bernard Goldberg interviewed me. When I found out, I didn't really put it together. Finally, I said, this is the guy who did the CBS piece on Coach Osborne and Nebraska. I almost backed out. People said, "No, you gotta do it, because hopefully somebody else will see it and this could help somebody." He came and he did it. We didn't talk between the takes, he did the show, packed up his bag and left. That was it. A year later, they called and asked how I was doing. We want to come out and do a follow piece. He comes back out this time a completely different guy, just a really nice guy, good guy. The whole Nebraska thing was just doing his job. Sometimes you don't get to pick and choose what you get to do. We shot at one place, a lot of joking around. He stayed after at my house after all the cameras were gone, sat around and talked for a couple hours. Did I blame him for the first time, being all business? No. Because at that time I was just another drug addict, probably going to be back on the street the next week. We actually have a friendship to this day. One time he said, "You handle yourself well in front of the camera. Have you ever thought about doing something like this?"

Sometime after that, I did the Jim Rome show. I went in studio to do that. We were supposed to do one segment. We ended up staying an hour and 15 minutes. He said it was the longest segment he'd done. When we were done, he said the same thing: "Have you ever thought about it?" At that point, I said, "Let's try it." I called Coach Osborne and asked him if he knew anybody. He gave me a couple of numbers.

 

 

 

 

Former Husker Jason Peter now works for Lincoln's 1480 AM ESPN. Peter auditioned for the station last summer and got the job, a 3-to-6 p.m. daily show.Peter auditioned with ESPN 1480 AM in Lincoln last summer and got the gig, a 3-to-6 p.m. daily show. He also did some TV work with KETV last fall.

JP: I love it. Getting the opportunity to do this and work with Channel 7 in Omaha, some pregame and postgame stuff for them. I won a Nebraska broadcasting award, if you can believe that.

Would I like to do football on TV? Absolutely. Do I always want to have my 3-to-6 gig on the radio talking Nebraska football? Absolutely.

 

Q: What's your take on what's happened with Nebraska football and Bo Pelini?

JP: Obviously, I was really glad to see Coach Osborne get back into it. I didn't know Bo, other than he was here in 2003. The biggest thing for me is that Bo is teaching them the fundamentals and getting them to play with passion and having that energy no matter what it says on the scoreboard. He's also made us ex-guys feel proud again to be part of it.

It was embarrassing. I said all along, these kids keep getting patted on the back and saying everything is going to be OK. Maybe it's just the way I was treated with Coach (Charlie) McBride, but they didn't need a pat on the back, they needed a kick in the (butt) and somebody in their face saying, "That's not good enough. And if you continue to play like this, you won't be playing anymore." There were no consequences for what they were doing.

I go down to the stadium often to see familiar faces and have gotten to spend some time with Bo. I like him because he's just a normal guy. His interviews, and the way he says things, it's almost like what I do on the radio. It's honest and heartfelt. I don't think he's concerned about making this person happy or that person happy. "I'm here to win football games and make sure Nebraska is proud of its program again."

Just coming out of spring ball, are they going to win the national championship next year? No. I get people mad when they call into my show and I say they aren't going to go 13-0. Are they going to be better record-wise? Hopefully. Maybe. I don't know. Are they going to play more passionately? Yes. And that's all that matters to me right now, because the scores will turn if you continue to play with that passion, that love for the game. Eventually you will score more points than the other team.

 

Q: How are you doing? Do you still have to check in with somebody?

JP: I get together with certain people. When I was in California, I had a life coach, a therapist. Now I meet with somebody every month, every two months, just to BS, talk. It's there if I need it. It's good. I'll have a drink every once in awhile. Alcohol was never my thing. It was just something that sat on the side and turned to water half the time because I never touched it. Grant (Wistrom) will come into town, and I'll have a drink with him. I'll have a glass of wine with my wife. There are groups out there who don't think that's OK, and I don't care. I found out what works for me. For me, it's not about counting days and telling people how long I've been off it. It's about being able to call my mother and not have it in my head: "I have to talk slower or she'll know I'm high." It's about not being afraid that someone's going to stop by my house today and I've been up since 4, wired. It's nice knowing that my mother can go to sleep tonight not worrying that "Tonight's the night I'm going to get that call."

 

Q: How long has it been since you last took drugs?

JP: It will be four years in July. I've had surgeries a couple times since then, and that was obviously a huge, huge test. It's not like I took the bottle of Vicodin from the doctor when I drove myself out of there. I had to take some, so it was like feeding the devil again. But again, it was about honesty. When I was prepping for the surgery, I told the doctor I used to be a drug addict.

 

Q: Who should play you in the movie?

JP: My wife does that all the time. She's always picking people out. It's hard because you have to find someone who can be big enough to portray this football player but also be a skeleton of himself. She likes that Jake Gyllenhaal. Everybody likes to have fun with that. I don't pay attention to it. I get nervous enough about the book coming out. How will people perceive it? What's important to me is that my wife is OK with it and my family is OK with it. And I can't control what everyone else thinks, but I'm a caring guy. I love the guys that I played with. I care what they think. I don't know, some mother whose son looks up to me might not like it. I can't do anything about that.

 

Q: One final question: One of these days you'll have to tell me what actually happened on that private jet.

(No answer. Just a smile.)

 

 

 

Book Excerpt: Part 1: Hero of the Underground

I went on my first recruitment trip to Nebraska in February of 1992, during my senior year at Middletown South.

 

My first impressions of Nebraska came through the window of the airplane as we descended into Lincoln. I could see nothing but brown. Browned fields, vast expanses of brown earth, and in the desolate acres between farms a sea of brown broken up only by the occasional shrinking patch of mid-February snow. No signs of people anywhere, only a lonely farmhouse and a single stretch of asphalt. Then, off in the distance, at last I spotted Lincoln: the small, proud city that revolved around Memorial Stadium. I would soon learn that the city's psychic geography orbited the stadium as much as its architecture did.

 

How completely different the lifestyle here was from my own upbringing in New Jersey. Back home the only thing that separated towns was a line on the map, the 12,000 home-owners in Red Bank practically sharing backyards with the 14,000 people in neighboring Eatontown, while in Nebraska what separated towns were thirty or so miles of nothing but cornfields. On one of my first days there the coaches were driving me around when we came to a railway line. We stopped as the gate descended, the bell began tolling, and then the train began to roar past us. We sat there for what seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes while miles and miles of shuddering, clanging steel whooshed past us, seemingly never ending, drowning out all conversation in the car. All I could do was sit there and marvel at the scale of it, and wonder when exactly the f------ thing was gonna finally pass us.

 

I noted also, in quiet amusement, the difference in the temperament of the people in Lincoln. Unlike the twenty-four-hour traffic jams on the Garden State Parkway or the Jersey Turnpike, here people allowed each other to cut in and out of traffic, and when they did so, they didn't honk their horns or scream at each other to go f--- their mother. Here was a place where people didn't get caught up in the b---s--- of having the best pair of sneakers, the biggest house, the flashiest car. Lincoln was made up of real, honest-to-God down-home American folk, the kind of folk I had only seen on the television before. The place had a certain allure, and during that very first visit I felt it begin to get under my skin.

 

The coaches took us to the best restaurants in town, and later the player escorts would get us into the wildest college parties. And the girls! Oh Christ, they were like something from some cheerleader sex fantasy. Agape I watched them with their blond hair tied back, their impossibly long legs, their ice-blue and emerald-green eyes, and their dazzling, perfect teeth, I noted the way that they fell over themselves to get close to the football guys who treated them with calculated indifference, and I realized that to get onto the team at Nebraska was to get all-areas access to the best parties, the best girls, the American f------ dream. As the season was already over I didn't get the chance to see the Cornhuskers play, but I had memorized Christian's accounts of Memorial Stadium: the roar of the crowd, 78,000 voices hoarse and steadfast, cheering on this team that was worshipped like young gods in the state of Nebraska. The thought of this sound sent shivers up my spine. It seemed to provoke something in me, and I felt a druglike rush flooding my brain. I imagined myself stepping out onto the field, and that roar, that deafening, dizzying, 78,000-voices-

strong scream being directed toward me.

 

That was it! I was hooked. Nothing else in life mattered to me as much as making sure that one day the Cornhuskers uniform was on my back. That's all I wanted from life.

 

The big problem was the fact that there was no offer of a scholarship on the table. I had only played two years of organized football. While the coaches could sense my promise, I was still growing into my then 6'4", 235-pound body. I wanted to go to Nebraska as a scholarship player; anything else would have been an admission of some kind of failure. Christian had gotten all those letters and offers. Christian was at Nebraska on scholarship. An assistant coach at the University of Miami named Art Kehoe inadvertently changed my life. He suggested that I retake my senior year at a private academy in Connecticut called Milford Academy. When my parents researched it, we discovered that this was indeed a possibility so long as I didn't graduate from Middletown South. Armed with this knowledge, from my second semester on I rarely attended classes. I started hitting the gym with the express aim of conditioning my body and making myself irresistible to my college of choice, the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Not surprisingly, most of my teachers failed me at Middletown South, and the following year I started at Milford Academy.

 

In those days Milford Academy was a hellhole, and the time I spent there was miserable. The dorm rooms were freezing cold and decrepit. It wasn't unusual to wake up in the middle of the night to the sensation of cockroaches as big as mice scuttling across your bedsheets. The kids were tough, the teachers ambivalent, and drug use and violence common. Gangs of kids would hang around smoking weed before football practice, and fights would often be settled with knuckledusters and even the threat of guns. We called the guy who worked in the cafeteria "Lurch," and it seemed that every day he would have some kind of weeping, infected wound on his fingers that he would try to mask with crusty-looking duct tape. My only focus was on getting into college, and what time I didn't spend studying to pass my classes, I spent in the gym. The place was a breeding ground for a lot of young talent, but you had to mentally rise above the pitiful surroundings. When the football season started, I had bulked up to 6'5" and 265 pounds and was more determined than ever to play big-time college football. I now found myself in the position of being able to go to whatever college I wanted on scholarship, and I was now rated the number-one recruit in the whole Northeast. In one year of hard work in the weight room, I had effected a 180-degree turn in my fortunes. In July of 1993 I joined Christian at Nebraska as a scholarship student.

 

Before playing even a down of college ball, pain control was essential. Sitting out of games or missing training sessions with a pulled muscle or a bruised rib cage was not an option. I learned from Christian that a football player had to be tenacious, balls to the wall, a fighter. So in my freshman year, when I hurt my knee during practice and limped from the field to the team doctor's office, I knew I needed to recover quickly. The doctor checked out the knee and determined that the damage wasn't serious. He handed me six white, oblong pills to help me get through the night.

 

"These are Lorcets," he told me, "to control the pain. These will fix you right up."

 

He was right, they did fix me up. I took two after practice, and not only did they mask my aches and pains for a while, they lifted my mood to the point that for the next couple of hours I was bubbling over with euphoric good cheer. I was filled with benevolence and goodwill for everyone. The sky seemed bluer, clearer, and more beautiful than I had ever noticed before. Although it would be grossly mistaken to say that this was the beginning of an addiction or anything approaching it, it is fair to say that this was my first inkling that maybe my metabolism reacted to painkillers in a more extreme way than other people's did. I was susceptible to the Sickness, be it a spiritual sickness, as the mainstream recovery industry would have us believe, or a genetic weakness, as some scientists argue. All I knew was how much better life looked when you saw it through the haze of opiates.

 

At that point I never thought of painkillers as something you could abuse. My ignorance of them was total. Painkiller abuse wasn't the media hot topic it is now, and to me they were just medicine, albeit medicine with a pleasant aftereffect. I didn't know that addiction to painkillers was even possible. Drug addiction didn't feature in my world. Drug addiction was something that happened in the bad parts of town back home in New Jersey, a furtive, underground world that I was no part of. I wouldn't need to take another painkiller for at least another year, and for the moment I forgot about them totally. As I went through my paces on the field of Memorial Stadium I had bigger things on my mind than getting high on pills. I had a vocation in life, an honest-to-God calling. I worshipped at the altar of college football, and the more involved I got, the greater my love for the sport grew.

 

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HUSKER 37 Assistant Coach

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Former NU player Jason Peter's secrets revealed in tell-all book

 

INTERVIEW WITH TOM SHATEL

 

 

Q: Are you surprised you're still alive?

JP: Yeah. Even to this day, I'll get calls from guys I met at various stages of rehab. They'll say, "You remember Johnny? He's dead. He OD'd." When you go through this, you think you're invincible, nothing will ever hold you down. I always thought, "I'll stop whenever I want." I justified it at the time I was playing football, with the pain pills. I needed it to play football. Was I banged up with injuries? Absolutely. Is that the reason I eventually became addicted? No. That was all on me. That's why people who don't know my story will say, he's just another drug addict. But it started somewhere. It started brewing with all of those injuries. I knew I liked how I felt when I took those pills at Nebraska. But I didn't have the means then or the money.

 

 

 

 

Jason Peter was an All-America defensive tackle at Nebraska.Q: You also thought about suicide more than once?

JP: Oh, yeah. You get to a point where the highs aren't what they were when you started. With the pills and the opium and the heroin, you develop a tolerance. It takes more and more to get to that high. The biggest battle I had was like, how do I get my hands on pain pills today? I was scamming all these doctors and pharmacies. It became work. And that part began outweighing the part where I took pills and didn't worry about anything. My football career was over. And, you know, football to me was everything. I got started late in my junior year in high school, but that was my passion. Through all of these rehab centers, they wanted to know what my passion was. But I couldn't go back and get that (football). I mean, this wasn't me walking out on my terms, like Grant (Wistrom), saying I've played nine years - that's enough. This was me sitting in a room with George Seifert and Marty Hurney, the GM at Carolina, and the head trainer, and they're saying, "We can't clear you to play football again. You'll never do what you want to do ever again."

 

Q: Should the NFL have a program to help guys adjust to life after football?

JP: The NFL has something. But here's the thing. I'm 25 years old and some guy is going to come up to me and say, "Jason, we have to meet for an hour about life after football." I'm like, "Who are you kidding? I'm going to play for 12 years, I'm going to go into the Hall of Fame." I wasn't thinking about life after football. I was trying to survive being in it. It was tough for me coming from Nebraska, where I had a couple of back spasms and hurt my hand, and going to Carolina, where I had two major surgeries each year. I didn't know how to deal with that. Combine that with the fact that I liked taking the pills, at least recreationally. I had to be up at a certain time in the morning to go to practice. So I had structure in my life. When that's over, and you have nothing to do, that's when the trouble started.

 

Q: Why write a book? Is this about the money? Or is there a story here you wanted to tell?

JP: I had a story to tell. Maybe it's not a self-help book. But that doesn't mean someone still can't benefit from this thing, that a 17- or 20-year-old kid doesn't read it and say, "Man, this is the way I'm going now." Am I shocked that I came out on the other end? Yes. So I think it's got something to offer if somebody is headed down that path.

But I also was like, "Do I want to do this?" I come from good family and, for the most part, we keep things in house. This was like airing dirty laundry. That's what I was nervous about. But I also realized that I put a major dent in my wallet in terms of the money that I spent, on the hookers, on the drugs, spending nights at strip clubs until they shut it down. It took its toll. I would be lying to you if I said there wasn't financial consideration here as well.

 

Q: Is this appropriate reading for high school kids?

JP: Absolutely. I spoke at a high school in Omaha. And one of the reasons they brought me up was because they have kids who are messing around with this type of stuff, smoking weed, messing around with cocaine, pain pills. This is what these kids are doing nowadays. This should probably start with the parent, and if it's something they feel their son or daughter can learn from it, go ahead.

 

Q: How do you think Coach Osborne < will feel about this?

JP: I think he'll be shocked. I don't think anybody really understood what was happening behind those closed doors at my house. It's an in-your-face type book. Coach Osborne is a guy who lives by his faith, but that doesn't mean he's not aware of what's going on out there. I told him, "If you ever need me to come talk to the kids down there, I'll be an open book." Does it matter to me what Coach Osborne thinks about this? Absolutely. He means the world to me. But the people that will be the hardest for me to read this book are my wife, my mother and my sister.

 

Q: Has your mother read it?

JP: Yes she has, and she thinks it's a great book. My aunt, who's in the book, also thought it was amazing. They went through this with me, so they know. I think they had an idea of what was going on, but to have it in a book, out there, where there's no turning back, that's a little different.

I knew I had to be honest if this thing was going to be a quality book. That started, really, the last time I went into the rehab. You have to be honest. If you are trying to fool people there, you aren't going to make it. It's funny, because when I was doing the book, I was saying, "I don't know if I should put this in," and it was my wife who said, "You have to put this in. You have to be honest and put this stuff in there." I said, "All right, but don't divorce me when it comes out."

 

Q: What will the average Husker fan think after reading the book?

JP: Some might be disappointed. Some might have this image, maybe, in their mind that they don't want distorted. This guy who is on the (Nebraska football) All-Century team, three national championship teams. I can't control what other people think. I hope they read it and can just understand that I was just trying to tell a story that I went through, that I wasn't trying to make myself a hero or anything.

 

Q: Is there a lesson here in that people shouldn't put their heroes on pedestals?

JP: I don't know. I do admit that that was a big part of my life here. And that was a big part of my struggle after football was over. I was used to hearing those cheers. There was nobody yelling your name, telling you how good you were. But in terms of the book, am I asking for some type of hero worship because I came out of this thing? No.

There will be people that think I'm wrong for putting this stuff out there. But there will be other people who have an uncle who was a drunk or a brother who is a drug addict or a mother who pops pills all day. Most people know someone or are related to someone who has gone through some sort of addiction. This is the truth. This is what happens. This is what happened to me.

 

Q: Maybe this isn't a fair question, but if you could do anything different, what would it be?

JP: In terms of my football career, I ask myself, every single day, probably 10 times a day, what if I didn't abuse my body with all of this garbage? Most of it came post-career, but I'm sure there was some damage when I was playing. Did that affect how my body could heal? I wonder even though this is medicine doctors give you when you walk out of the hospital, they don't give you enough to abuse it. I ask myself every day: Did I do so much that my body wasn't functioning as it should? Did that affect how my body could heal? That's something I have to live with.

In terms of the addiction, if I had had a serious relationship, or had been married, that might have straightened me out. I'm so happy that I didn't. I'm so happy that I went through this. Because if I hadn't, I wouldn't be married to the wife that I have now. There's a reason for everything. One way or another, I found myself out in California and met the girl of my dreams. That wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gone through this.

 

Q: How much damage did you do to your body or your brain with all the coke and heroin?

JP: I don't know. I don't know that I'll know that for a long time. I've been checked, my liver, kidneys, all that stuff, and I seem to be just fine. But you never know what that might have started. Who knows? We'll see. Do I have lapses sometimes where I kind of just forget things or lose my train of thought? Yes. But I think that's a combination of football on top of the drugs.

 

Q: How much money did you throw away?

JP: I'm not a guy who gets on a computer every day and checks. It's at least, through all the hookers and all the drugs, at least half a million dollars. It could be close to a million. I wasn't completely broke when this was over, but it was to the point where my financial adviser was telling me, "You can't live the lifestyle you think you can live." It went from one of those things if you manage things and don't do anything crazy, you don't really have to work, to now, you have to work.

It was a lot of trips to the ATM machine at 4 in the morning. That's a reason why a lot of people stop, because the money's gone. I wasn't one of these drug addicts roaming the street, trying to get a $10 fix. I was having people drop it off at my house. And I'm paying for $500 or $1,000 worth of cocaine or heroin at one time. Cash. For some of the girls, I could use my credit card.

 

Peter says in the book that there was no shining moment where he knew he had to stop; one day you just know and hopefully you are still alive to realize it. But during his last stint in rehab, his mother was taken to a hospital with a heart scare. It turned out to be stress related, but the incident deeply affected Peter, who felt more than a little guilty.

JP: Drug addicts are so caught up in their own world, they don't pay attention to what it's doing to the people around them. The addict is high all the time, so he feels good. But the mother is waiting by the phone every night. When there was the scare with her, in large part did I feel like I needed to end it with me, that it was my time? Yeah. That could have been more than 50 percent of why I stopped, because I couldn't put my mother through this anymore. I couldn't care less what happened to me.

 

What brought Peter back to Lincoln? He said it started, ironically, with an interview he did for HBO with the infamous Bernard Goldberg, the TV reporter who drew the ire of Osborne and NU fans during the Lawrence Phillips days of 1995 for his "win at all costs" profile of Osborne.

JP: I did the "HBO Real Sports." And Bernard Goldberg interviewed me. When I found out, I didn't really put it together. Finally, I said, this is the guy who did the CBS piece on Coach Osborne and Nebraska. I almost backed out. People said, "No, you gotta do it, because hopefully somebody else will see it and this could help somebody." He came and he did it. We didn't talk between the takes, he did the show, packed up his bag and left. That was it. A year later, they called and asked how I was doing. We want to come out and do a follow piece. He comes back out this time a completely different guy, just a really nice guy, good guy. The whole Nebraska thing was just doing his job. Sometimes you don't get to pick and choose what you get to do. We shot at one place, a lot of joking around. He stayed after at my house after all the cameras were gone, sat around and talked for a couple hours. Did I blame him for the first time, being all business? No. Because at that time I was just another drug addict, probably going to be back on the street the next week. We actually have a friendship to this day. One time he said, "You handle yourself well in front of the camera. Have you ever thought about doing something like this?"

Sometime after that, I did the Jim Rome show. I went in studio to do that. We were supposed to do one segment. We ended up staying an hour and 15 minutes. He said it was the longest segment he'd done. When we were done, he said the same thing: "Have you ever thought about it?" At that point, I said, "Let's try it." I called Coach Osborne and asked him if he knew anybody. He gave me a couple of numbers.

 

 

 

 

Former Husker Jason Peter now works for Lincoln's 1480 AM ESPN. Peter auditioned for the station last summer and got the job, a 3-to-6 p.m. daily show.Peter auditioned with ESPN 1480 AM in Lincoln last summer and got the gig, a 3-to-6 p.m. daily show. He also did some TV work with KETV last fall.

JP: I love it. Getting the opportunity to do this and work with Channel 7 in Omaha, some pregame and postgame stuff for them. I won a Nebraska broadcasting award, if you can believe that.

Would I like to do football on TV? Absolutely. Do I always want to have my 3-to-6 gig on the radio talking Nebraska football? Absolutely.

 

Q: What's your take on what's happened with Nebraska football and Bo Pelini?

JP: Obviously, I was really glad to see Coach Osborne get back into it. I didn't know Bo, other than he was here in 2003. The biggest thing for me is that Bo is teaching them the fundamentals and getting them to play with passion and having that energy no matter what it says on the scoreboard. He's also made us ex-guys feel proud again to be part of it.

It was embarrassing. I said all along, these kids keep getting patted on the back and saying everything is going to be OK. Maybe it's just the way I was treated with Coach (Charlie) McBride, but they didn't need a pat on the back, they needed a kick in the (butt) and somebody in their face saying, "That's not good enough. And if you continue to play like this, you won't be playing anymore." There were no consequences for what they were doing.

I go down to the stadium often to see familiar faces and have gotten to spend some time with Bo. I like him because he's just a normal guy. His interviews, and the way he says things, it's almost like what I do on the radio. It's honest and heartfelt. I don't think he's concerned about making this person happy or that person happy. "I'm here to win football games and make sure Nebraska is proud of its program again."

Just coming out of spring ball, are they going to win the national championship next year? No. I get people mad when they call into my show and I say they aren't going to go 13-0. Are they going to be better record-wise? Hopefully. Maybe. I don't know. Are they going to play more passionately? Yes. And that's all that matters to me right now, because the scores will turn if you continue to play with that passion, that love for the game. Eventually you will score more points than the other team.

 

Q: How are you doing? Do you still have to check in with somebody?

JP: I get together with certain people. When I was in California, I had a life coach, a therapist. Now I meet with somebody every month, every two months, just to BS, talk. It's there if I need it. It's good. I'll have a drink every once in awhile. Alcohol was never my thing. It was just something that sat on the side and turned to water half the time because I never touched it. Grant (Wistrom) will come into town, and I'll have a drink with him. I'll have a glass of wine with my wife. There are groups out there who don't think that's OK, and I don't care. I found out what works for me. For me, it's not about counting days and telling people how long I've been off it. It's about being able to call my mother and not have it in my head: "I have to talk slower or she'll know I'm high." It's about not being afraid that someone's going to stop by my house today and I've been up since 4, wired. It's nice knowing that my mother can go to sleep tonight not worrying that "Tonight's the night I'm going to get that call."

 

Q: How long has it been since you last took drugs?

JP: It will be four years in July. I've had surgeries a couple times since then, and that was obviously a huge, huge test. It's not like I took the bottle of Vicodin from the doctor when I drove myself out of there. I had to take some, so it was like feeding the devil again. But again, it was about honesty. When I was prepping for the surgery, I told the doctor I used to be a drug addict.

 

Q: Who should play you in the movie?

JP: My wife does that all the time. She's always picking people out. It's hard because you have to find someone who can be big enough to portray this football player but also be a skeleton of himself. She likes that Jake Gyllenhaal. Everybody likes to have fun with that. I don't pay attention to it. I get nervous enough about the book coming out. How will people perceive it? What's important to me is that my wife is OK with it and my family is OK with it. And I can't control what everyone else thinks, but I'm a caring guy. I love the guys that I played with. I care what they think. I don't know, some mother whose son looks up to me might not like it. I can't do anything about that.

 

Q: One final question: One of these days you'll have to tell me what actually happened on that private jet.

(No answer. Just a smile.)

 

 

62808sqpeterbook.jpg

 

Book Excerpt: Part 1: Hero of the Underground

 

I went on my first recruitment trip to Nebraska in February of 1992, during my senior year at Middletown South.

 

My first impressions of Nebraska came through the window of the airplane as we descended into Lincoln. I could see nothing but brown. Browned fields, vast expanses of brown earth, and in the desolate acres between farms a sea of brown broken up only by the occasional shrinking patch of mid-February snow. No signs of people anywhere, only a lonely farmhouse and a single stretch of asphalt. Then, off in the distance, at last I spotted Lincoln: the small, proud city that revolved around Memorial Stadium. I would soon learn that the city's psychic geography orbited the stadium as much as its architecture did.

 

How completely different the lifestyle here was from my own upbringing in New Jersey. Back home the only thing that separated towns was a line on the map, the 12,000 home-owners in Red Bank practically sharing backyards with the 14,000 people in neighboring Eatontown, while in Nebraska what separated towns were thirty or so miles of nothing but cornfields. On one of my first days there the coaches were driving me around when we came to a railway line. We stopped as the gate descended, the bell began tolling, and then the train began to roar past us. We sat there for what seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes while miles and miles of shuddering, clanging steel whooshed past us, seemingly never ending, drowning out all conversation in the car. All I could do was sit there and marvel at the scale of it, and wonder when exactly the f------ thing was gonna finally pass us.

 

I noted also, in quiet amusement, the difference in the temperament of the people in Lincoln. Unlike the twenty-four-hour traffic jams on the Garden State Parkway or the Jersey Turnpike, here people allowed each other to cut in and out of traffic, and when they did so, they didn't honk their horns or scream at each other to go f--- their mother. Here was a place where people didn't get caught up in the b---s--- of having the best pair of sneakers, the biggest house, the flashiest car. Lincoln was made up of real, honest-to-God down-home American folk, the kind of folk I had only seen on the television before. The place had a certain allure, and during that very first visit I felt it begin to get under my skin.

 

The coaches took us to the best restaurants in town, and later the player escorts would get us into the wildest college parties. And the girls! Oh Christ, they were like something from some cheerleader sex fantasy. Agape I watched them with their blond hair tied back, their impossibly long legs, their ice-blue and emerald-green eyes, and their dazzling, perfect teeth, I noted the way that they fell over themselves to get close to the football guys who treated them with calculated indifference, and I realized that to get onto the team at Nebraska was to get all-areas access to the best parties, the best girls, the American f------ dream. As the season was already over I didn't get the chance to see the Cornhuskers play, but I had memorized Christian's accounts of Memorial Stadium: the roar of the crowd, 78,000 voices hoarse and steadfast, cheering on this team that was worshipped like young gods in the state of Nebraska. The thought of this sound sent shivers up my spine. It seemed to provoke something in me, and I felt a druglike rush flooding my brain. I imagined myself stepping out onto the field, and that roar, that deafening, dizzying, 78,000-voices-

strong scream being directed toward me.

 

That was it! I was hooked. Nothing else in life mattered to me as much as making sure that one day the Cornhuskers uniform was on my back. That's all I wanted from life.

 

The big problem was the fact that there was no offer of a scholarship on the table. I had only played two years of organized football. While the coaches could sense my promise, I was still growing into my then 6'4", 235-pound body. I wanted to go to Nebraska as a scholarship player; anything else would have been an admission of some kind of failure. Christian had gotten all those letters and offers. Christian was at Nebraska on scholarship. An assistant coach at the University of Miami named Art Kehoe inadvertently changed my life. He suggested that I retake my senior year at a private academy in Connecticut called Milford Academy. When my parents researched it, we discovered that this was indeed a possibility so long as I didn't graduate from Middletown South. Armed with this knowledge, from my second semester on I rarely attended classes. I started hitting the gym with the express aim of conditioning my body and making myself irresistible to my college of choice, the Nebraska Cornhuskers. Not surprisingly, most of my teachers failed me at Middletown South, and the following year I started at Milford Academy.

 

In those days Milford Academy was a hellhole, and the time I spent there was miserable. The dorm rooms were freezing cold and decrepit. It wasn't unusual to wake up in the middle of the night to the sensation of cockroaches as big as mice scuttling across your bedsheets. The kids were tough, the teachers ambivalent, and drug use and violence common. Gangs of kids would hang around smoking weed before football practice, and fights would often be settled with knuckledusters and even the threat of guns. We called the guy who worked in the cafeteria "Lurch," and it seemed that every day he would have some kind of weeping, infected wound on his fingers that he would try to mask with crusty-looking duct tape. My only focus was on getting into college, and what time I didn't spend studying to pass my classes, I spent in the gym. The place was a breeding ground for a lot of young talent, but you had to mentally rise above the pitiful surroundings. When the football season started, I had bulked up to 6'5" and 265 pounds and was more determined than ever to play big-time college football. I now found myself in the position of being able to go to whatever college I wanted on scholarship, and I was now rated the number-one recruit in the whole Northeast. In one year of hard work in the weight room, I had effected a 180-degree turn in my fortunes. In July of 1993 I joined Christian at Nebraska as a scholarship student.

 

Before playing even a down of college ball, pain control was essential. Sitting out of games or missing training sessions with a pulled muscle or a bruised rib cage was not an option. I learned from Christian that a football player had to be tenacious, balls to the wall, a fighter. So in my freshman year, when I hurt my knee during practice and limped from the field to the team doctor's office, I knew I needed to recover quickly. The doctor checked out the knee and determined that the damage wasn't serious. He handed me six white, oblong pills to help me get through the night.

 

"These are Lorcets," he told me, "to control the pain. These will fix you right up."

 

He was right, they did fix me up. I took two after practice, and not only did they mask my aches and pains for a while, they lifted my mood to the point that for the next couple of hours I was bubbling over with euphoric good cheer. I was filled with benevolence and goodwill for everyone. The sky seemed bluer, clearer, and more beautiful than I had ever noticed before. Although it would be grossly mistaken to say that this was the beginning of an addiction or anything approaching it, it is fair to say that this was my first inkling that maybe my metabolism reacted to painkillers in a more extreme way than other people's did. I was susceptible to the Sickness, be it a spiritual sickness, as the mainstream recovery industry would have us believe, or a genetic weakness, as some scientists argue. All I knew was how much better life looked when you saw it through the haze of opiates.

 

At that point I never thought of painkillers as something you could abuse. My ignorance of them was total. Painkiller abuse wasn't the media hot topic it is now, and to me they were just medicine, albeit medicine with a pleasant aftereffect. I didn't know that addiction to painkillers was even possible. Drug addiction didn't feature in my world. Drug addiction was something that happened in the bad parts of town back home in New Jersey, a furtive, underground world that I was no part of. I wouldn't need to take another painkiller for at least another year, and for the moment I forgot about them totally. As I went through my paces on the field of Memorial Stadium I had bigger things on my mind than getting high on pills. I had a vocation in life, an honest-to-God calling. I worshipped at the altar of college football, and the more involved I got, the greater my love for the sport grew.

 

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