Daily News
After home life from hell, Darren McFadden racing to put past behind him
Blessed with 4.33 speed in the 40-yard dash, crazy fast for a 6-1½ , 215-pound man, Darren McFadden can run away from just about anybody. What he hasn't developed is the ability to walk away.
Many NFL teams, including the Jets, will analyze that conundrum over the next four weeks as they prepare for the draft. Few will argue that McFadden is the most dynamic player on the board, but there are character concerns. Two years ago, he was involved in a vicious fight outside a nightclub that left his left big toe hideously dislocated, mangled so badly that it revealed the bone.
Sobbing uncontrollably in the ambulance, McFadden called friends and relatives on his cell phone to apologize and vow that he'd never do anything that reckless again. But he did. There was another nightclub altercation in his hometown of Little Rock, where he was handcuffed, but not arrested, for "provoking aggressive behavior," according to police.
The former Arkansas tailback has no criminal record, but his rowdy behavior, coupled with stories about illegitimate children and paternity suits, has prompted teams to dig into his background. They want to know: Superman or Pacman?
To answer that question, go back.
Go back to his neighborhood in Little Rock, one of the most gang-infested areas in the country. In 1994, HBO filmed a documentary, "Gang War: Banging in Little Rock." It was like a home movie for McFadden, who once shocked a junior-high teacher by pointing out people in the film that he recognized, some of whom were killed on the streets.
Go back to the house on South Schiller Street, where two of Mini Muhammad's 12 children belonged to enemy gangs. One of her sons was a Blood, another a Crip. She says there were no conflicts in the house, but it took the phrase "sibling rivalry" to a new level.
Go back to the master bedroom in the house on South Schiller. That is where Mini disappeared for hours at a time, behind a closed door, smoking crack. She used grocery money to get high, even stole money from her kids. One of her suppliers, she says, was her oldest son, currently serving five years in a federal prison on a drug conviction.
"I've been to hell and back, and I took my children into that hell and the chaos, too," Muhammad, 56, says in a phone interview, claiming she has been clean for six years. "But we all bonded together and took care of each other."
That Darren survived, even thrived in such a dysfunctional environment is a small miracle. Surrounded by gangs and death and drugs ("Drugs were a way of life for us," his mother says), McFadden stayed clean and kept running.
"I stuck to football and used it as my escape route," says McFadden, relaxing after a recent workout on the Arkansas campus.
Funny thing about McFadden's running style. For such a fast guy, he loves collisions. Off the field, too.
McFadden is big, fast, tough and productive - 4,590 rushing yards in three seasons at Arkansas, second only to Herschel Walker in SEC history. From all indications, he's a hard worker and well-liked by former teammates. According to a source, he scored a respectable 17 on his Wonderlic intelligence test. He answers, "Yes, sir" and "No, sir," and he has a quick, engaging smile. It'll be an upset if he's not among the top six picks. The Jets own the sixth pick.
Then again, in the NFL's Pacman Jones/Michael Vick era, teams are supposedly placing a greater emphasis on character, especially when multimillion-dollar investments are at stake. That has put McFadden under intense scrutiny.
"I'm not the type of guy who's going to go out every night and party," McFadden says. "I'm not going to put myself in the situations I did when I was younger. Those situations helped me mature a whole lot. It forces you to grow up a lot and realize you have a lot on the line."
He learned a hard lesson. The night of July 28, 2006, began innocently with a text message from then-coach Houston Nutt: "Get ready, football's around the corner."
McFadden replied: "I'm in the house." He didn't stay there. Several hours later, he was in an ambulance, heading for surgery.
He went to a notorious nightclub called The Palace, once the scene of a fatal shooting. In the parking lot, he confronted a man attempting to steal his brother's car, according to McFadden. A fight ensued. Somehow, he lost his shoe, smashed his toe and nearly shattered his dream.
"I think he realized, ‘Yeah, I am human and I am mortal, and I came close to really screwing this gig up' - and he's got a good gig going," says Arkansas head athletic trainer Dean Weber, who received a call at 4:45 a.m. from a hysterical McFadden.
Three months ago, it happened again, this time at a Little Rock nightspot called Ernie Biggs, which bills itself a piano bar. It, too, is a haven for police activity. A brawl escalated when "(the bouncer) jumped on my little brother," McFadden says. The bouncer told police he was attacked by several people, including McFadden, as he escorted the Razorback star's underage brother from the bar.
Along came the police, out came the handcuffs. That created big headlines in Arkansas, where McFadden might be the most popular person in the state, with apologies to former presidential candidate Mike Huckabee.
McFadden claims he's not a violent person. He admits he put himself in "bad situations," but only because family members needed help. Muhammad says she taught her sons to stick up for one another, adding of the fights, "That's not (Darren). That boy is a mild, meek, gentle soul."
"He's not a street thug, he's not a bum," says one AFC scout, speaking on the condition of anonymity. "He knows right from wrong."
The scout's team has done extensive research on McFadden, concluding he's basically a good person whose transgressions can be traced to his difficult family situation. That could become a burden once he's a millionaire. Maturity and proper guidance, the team believes, could solve everything. If the Jets draft him, they'd be smart to put Curtis Martin's number on his speed dial. The retired Martin, who lives in the area, would be a good mentor.
McFadden's reputation also has been tainted by reports that he fathered children from different women. Addressing rampant speculation last month at the scouting combine, he said he has two kids on the way. But, in an interview 11 days ago with the Daily News, he said one paternity test came back negative. He said he will know by mid-April if the other belongs to him. McFadden, 20 and single, already has a lawyer to handle paternity issues.
His alleged womanizing has provided joke fodder - "McDaddy" has become a derisive nickname - but those closest to McFadden believe he's an inspiration, not a troublemaker. After all, it wasn't exactly a very Brady upbringing.
McFadden's mother was an admitted crack addict who didn't get clean until she spent 11 days in jail, arrested after multiple traffic violations. She told her kids not to pay the $1,000 bail because she figured prison would be her rehab center. Her body shook and sweated through the withdrawal, but she did it for her family, which was almost broke.
"It was tough on me. I mean, those things are around, but you don't expect it to be your mom," says McFadden, claiming he was inspired by his mother's turnaround.
Remarkably, McFadden was a happy kid in high school, entertaining classmates with an array of costumes. Belying his image as a tough guy, he occasionally wore a dress and a blonde wig to school. No joke.
"He liked to shake things up," says teacher Leecie Henson, one of the guiding lights in McFadden's life - his "white mama," as he calls her. "After a while, I told him, ‘If you wear one more dress to school, I'm going to call your coach at Arkansas and tell him his running-back recruit is a cross dresser.' But that was his goal in high school: Make people laugh."
He's the same way at Arkansas. For Halloween, he and fellow back Felix Jones, also projected as a first-round pick, dressed as Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble.
On the field, there's nothing fake or dainty about McFadden. Unlike many speed backs, he craves a good collision, often using his patented stiff-arm to embarrass would-be tacklers. His position coach, Tim Horton, says 32% of McFadden's rushing yards last season (586 of 1,830) came after initial contact.
"The most aggressive player I've ever coached," Horton says.
Some scouts believe McFadden initiates too much contact, that he stops moving his feet when he does. Some are concerned about his skinny legs, wondering if they can withstand the NFL. Unbeknownst to many, he's never been serious about building leg strength. After tearing a knee cartilage as a freshman, he was advised to take it easy on the weights.
But "Butter Boy," his old playground nickname, sure can churn. That 4.33 time in the 40? McFadden covered the last 20 yards in 1.80 seconds, prompting one hard-bitten scout to remark: "Oh, my God!"
"He's going to be a great back in this league," says Kevin Colbert, the Steelers' director of football operations. Hall of Famer Tony Dorsett says, "Darren McFadden is The Truth. He's legit."
"I want to go into the NFL and have an impact like Adrian Peterson," McFadden says matter-of-factly, referring to the Vikings' young star. "I feel like with my hard work and determination, I can do the same things."
Peterson rushed for 1,341 yards and was named the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year. Can McFadden match that? As Horton ponders the question, he glances out his office window, which overlooks the Arkansas stadium. Amid the late-afternoon shadows, there's a fast-moving figure in the distance. Could it be?
Look, up in the sky. It's a bird! It's a plane!
Horton IDs the UFO: "It's Darren, running the stadium steps" - only a few hours after performing for NFL scouts at his pro day.
Maybe he is Superman.
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