Gastineau Gets Ready on Chicken Feed

Mark Gastineau is in town, training.

Before he breaks camp in another month, Gastineau will have pumped more iron, eaten more chicken and soaked up more sun than anyone in the history of the desert.

His one-man, off-season, on-location training camp is probably a pro football first.

“Mark Gastineau’s Intensive Training Camp,” says the large banner hanging over his workout area in a circus tent he shares with Marvelous Marvin Hagler.

Gastineau left behind in New York his beautiful home, beautiful wife, beautiful daughter (age 2 1/2), beautiful car ($100,000 Rolls-Royce), beautiful fur coat, beautiful jewelry (an earring with diamonds that form his number--99), and beautiful weight room ($45,000 worth of equipment in his basement).

He left it all behind because he decided Palm Springs was the place to train for football. So he hustled himself up a free hotel suite and training facilities for two months, and a tent full of workout equipment.

In return, he trains in public, hangs out pool-side with the guests, chatting and posing for snapshots.

If you come to town looking for Gastineau, you can’t miss him. He is 6 feet 5 inches and 285 pounds, with long, neatly styled hair. He has a personal trainer-nutritional adviser who has long black hair in a ponytail and tattoos on both arms.

They drive around town in a topless red Corvette Gastineau got free for doing a TV commercial. The only place they drive, though, is down the road about a mile to a little place called the Spring Chicken, where the menu consists entirely of chicken that lived healthy and died happy.

“We go there every day for lunch,” Gastineau said.

What about dinner?

“We go back for dinner.”

Every day?

“Every day since we’ve been here.”

Wait. You’re here in one of the restaurant paradises of the world and you eat twice a day at a chicken shack?

“That’s the highlight of my day,” Gastineau said.

Not that I disbelieve Gastineau, but I’m a reporter. I talked to the owner of the chicken place. It turns out Gastineau and his trainer, Richie Barafy, don’t always eat there twice a day.

“Sometimes they’re in here three times a day,” the Spring Chicken’s owner said.

Sure, chicken on chicken gets a little boring, Gastineau admitted, but added: “Anything else would be a diversion. This is serious business here.”

Well, there are a couple of diversions. Gastineau will take time off April 13 to drive in the Toyota celebrity race before the Long Beach Grand Prix. And he occasionally hangs out with his new friend, rock guitarist Eddie Van Halen.

But mostly it’s work, Gastineau holed up in his hotel with Barafy, who has a black belt in black belts and who has been Gastineau’s personal trainer for three years. Serious business.

Last season Gastineau, the Jets’ left defensive end, sacked 22 quarterbacks. He was named the AFC defensive Player of the Year.

With a salary of $800,000, he is the highest-paid lineman in the NFL, and probably the most feared, respected and loathed. His habit of dancing wildly over sacked quarterbacks earned him the animosity of many opposing players and fans, not to mention some of his teammates.

His unpopularity took a nose-dive a year ago when he was convicted of a misdemeanor assault charge after a disco brawl. Then the NFL banned the sack dance.

All the publicity about sacking and punching was blown out of proportion, Gastineau says now.

That’s only appropriate, since Gastineau himself is blown out of proportion. He carries his 285 pounds on a body with a trim 35-inch waist.

With his freakish size, speed and strength, he is as close to unstoppable as any defensive player in football. So why the extra effort now, the training camp?

“If I’m not training, I’d be out there spending money just to be spending it, because I’m bored,” Gastineau said. “People say training is boring. To me, it’s my sanity.

“This is an intensive training camp, exactly like a boxer. I feel like my sport is a one-on-one sport. Every play is a battle you’ve got to win.

“There will be a lot of responsibility on me this year. Our defensive coordinator, Bud Carson, is going to redesign the defense around me.

“I’ll be switching to right end, and we’ll be mixing up the plays to disguise where I’m coming from. I’ll be lining up at linebacker some of the time. I have a responsibility to the New York Jets to be ready.”

He is taking the responsibility seriously. Three rugged workouts a day under the big top, and a strict diet. Chicken twice a day and, occasionally, scrambled egg-whites for breakfast.

No chicken in Palm Springs has had a good night’s sleep since Gastineau hit town.

Gastineau swears he’s quicker now than he was when he ran an impressive 4.5-second 40-yard dash as a rookie. He says he’s also stronger and smarter.

He phoned Barafy on New Year’s Eve, saying he wanted to be the Pro Bowl’s most valuable player. They hit the gym like maniacs for three weeks and Gastineau sacked and pillaged his way to the award. Not a major award, but an ominous portent of what lies ahead.

“What do you think of a 290-pound linebacker?” Gastineau asked with a sinister chuckle.

Or was it a cackle?