Ex-Titan Blaine Bishop Reflects on Forgettable Super Bowl

As the Tennessee Titans drove on the St. Louis Rams at the end of Super Bowl XXXIV, Titans safety Blaine Bishop had just had his facemask removed. With his jersey cut off, his pads removed, and the shell of his helmet still affixed to his head, he lay inside an MRI machine in an Atlanta hospital, having been carted off the field and rushed away in an ambulance, listening to the radio broadcast of the Super Bowl. "I couldn't move in the MRI machine and I was thinking, 'Damn, we might win this game after all.' "

Bishop, who had been injured at the beginning of the fourth quarter, arrived at the hospital to find the MRI technicians already listening to the game. "No, they didn't put it on for me! I remember thinking, 'Well, you guys are really interested in what's happening to me, you're focused on the game.' "

As Kevin Dyson lunged for the goal line, Bishop tensed as he listened to the radio. From playing in front of over 70,000 fans to complete isolation in an instant. "Just barely missed it," he says of Dyson. "Just barely."

For Bishop, like so many NFL players, despite playing 10 years in the league, he would get one shot in the Super Bowl. And a near miss at a championship is often so painful, that even reliving the memories associated with a Super Bowl run is difficult. To wit, Bishop has never watched tape of his lone Super Bowl appearance.

"I've got it, I just can't watch it," he says.

Bishop, now 39 and a sports radio co-host with me in Nashville, Tenn., says each year as the Super Bowl nears he thinks back to that game, to how close to victory he and his teammates came.

"Back then, I didn't really think about being in the game very much, I figured I'd be back there again. The older guys, they told you how hard it was to do, but when you're a younger guy it doesn't make that much of an impact on you."

It's a common refrain among NFL players, an inability to grasp how significant the Super Bowl is until after the game has already passed. "In the moment, you're just focused on your preparation, on getting ready. You don't have much time to think about what the game will mean to you later," Bishop says.

There's no time to reflect on what an epic career achievement it is to be starting in the Super Bowl. Especially when, like Bishop, you were a walk-on at Ball State who was selected in the eighth round of the NFL Draft. Nicknamed "Scrappy" by Titans quarterback Steve McNair for his tenacious attitude on the field, Bishop's 1993 signing bonus was just $19,000.

During 10 years in the NFL, Bishop refused to ever take the easy route at practice, demanded full effort from his teammates, and as the 21st century dawned, he found himself being introduced at the Super Bowl. As the bright lights flashed and the most popular sporting event in American history approached kickoff, players tightened their focus, attempted to rein in their emotions; did whatever it took to remind themselves that they'd played in games all their lives and that this was just another game.
Even if, you know, it was really something much more.

For three quarters Bishop battled on the field. Then, on a 16-yard completion from Kurt Warner to Ernie Conwell, Bishop rushed to assist on a tackle with Anthony Dorsett and Dorsett drove Conwell into Bishop with such force that Bishop was knocked out.

Bishop woke up on the field and immediately said, "Dude, I'm coming back in."

The trainers refused, and as Bishop was carted off the field he waved because, "I wanted to let my family know I was OK."

Later that night, Bishop saw the replay of his hit on SportsCenter.

Ten years after, Bishop can reflect on being carried off the field for a concussion with more humor.

"I should have gotten paid for all the commercials they ran while I was laying on the field. I made them a lot of money. It took a long time."

After his scary trip through the MRI machine -- the Super Bowl hit would be one of 12 concussions that Bishop suffered during his career -- Bishop made it back to the Georgia Dome in time to rejoin his teammates for the bus ride back to the hotel.

Wearing a neck brace, he sat down on the quiet bus.

"We were a sorry sight," he says, "so quiet after we lost."

The next week, as he cleaned out his locker, a fruit basket arrived.

A surprised Bishop surveyed the fruit and picked up the card, unsure who would have thought to send something to the Titans' locker room for him.

"I thought it was my wife or something," he says.

Scrolled on the card was a message, "Hope all is well."

The sender?

Kurt Warner, Super Bowl MVP.

"I never told anybody," Blaine says, "and I don't think he did, either."

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