Dickerson’s Image Catching Up to Him

Eric Dickerson can defy geometry, elude the angles. He can outrun ill-humored linebackers, sprint past safeties, dispose of gnat-like cornerbacks. He can chew up yards like after-dinner snacks, establish records as if they were available at the concession stand. Handsome, almost elegant, Dickerson can do little wrong on a football field.

Off it, he can do little right.

Early last week, a paternity suit was filed against Dickerson that claimed, among other things, that the Ram running back is the father of Rea Ann Silva’s yet-unborn baby; that Dickerson quit paying medical bills related to the pregnancy; that he aimed a pistol at her head; that he left an abusive message on her answering machine.

Dickerson vehemently denied charges that he had threatened Silva with a gun or words. He said that he had paid for all medical expenses, but because of the suit, he might change his mind. He said he would take financial responsibility for the unborn child if blood tests prove positive association.

And then he couldn’t leave bad enough alone. He talked.

“This is the way to get back at me, to have a baby and then use the press against me,” he said. “But in two weeks, no one will care who Rea Ann Silva is.”

Dickerson fancies himself a victim. He was used, trapped, his emotions compromised. Because he had money, he said, someone took advantage of him.

Perhaps so. Notoriety has its complications, including the threat of deceit. Dickerson should know that as well as anyone.

But Dickerson can’t seem to distance himself from fame. It sticks to him like gum on a heel. He is a celebrity, a somebody. And Dickerson still isn’t very adroit or comfortable with stardom or the responsibility that accompanies it.

When members of his growing entourage once suggested he become associated with various charities--the better to enhance his image--Dickerson resisted. Too much time. Too much trouble. Dickerson relented finally, but with reservations. The bottom line was this: It was a public relations idea, rather than something done on Dickerson’s own initiative. A worthy cause adopted for the wrong reasons.

Do you praise his participation? Or question his sincerity?

When news of the recent paternity suit was revealed, the Dickerson advisory group fumbled into action. Realize first, that Dickerson has not one, but at least four consultants of sorts. One person, Arn Tellem, is handling the lawsuit against Dickerson’s former agent, Jack Rodri. Another, Sandy Friedman, handles his public relations. Another, Charles Chin, serves as a personal representative. Another, Fred Glassman, has been hired to deal exclusively with the paternity suit. Or so you would think.

But here’s what happened when a reporter inquired about the paternity suit:

Tellem said to call Chin.

Chin, with Dickerson’s blessings, released an impromptu statement, full of counter allegations.

Friedman called, asking that Chin’s remarks be disregarded.

Glassman issued an “official” statement.

Friedman called to make sure Glassman’s comments had been received.

The next day, Chin called and said Dickerson was available for comment.

Dickerson said, among other things, “not to listen to Fred Glassman, listen to me.”

And you wonder why Dickerson, as one associate put it, “had a few bumps in the road during the off-season.”

Dickerson is a target, to be sure. No doubt there are people poised and ready to tweak away at his persona, to latch onto his wealth and reputation. For the famous, it is an occupational hazard.

But Dickerson is no longer a rookie. He has been exposed to the press, to the money, to the fans. He should be well aware of the scrutiny. Instead, he sometimes acts as if it were all new, as if he just arrived from Sealy, Tex.

When willing, Dickerson can be engaging, funny, thoughtful, a joy. When not, he can become mean spirited and spiteful. Recently, a writer from a national sports magazine called Dickerson in hopes of talking to him about veteran Ram lineman Dennis Harrah. What could have been a pleasant 10-minute conversation about someone partly responsible for Dickerson’s success turned into a 45-second inquiry.

Dickerson wanted to know how the writer got his number.

The writer said he couldn’t remember.

“Then maybe I don’t remember who I am,” Dickerson said.

Click.

Shadows follow Dickerson. There was his split from respected agent Jack Mills and his association with Rodri and Ken Norton, two newcomers to football representation. Then came a controversial contract holdout with the Rams. There was his admission last May that he accepted money while attending SMU, his alma mater. Later that month, in his lawsuit against Rodri, Dickerson would contend that he was misled and ill advised. Soon thereafter, Chin would announce that Dickerson wanted his present contract “amended.”

Now this. A pregnant woman. A gun. Alleged threats. What’s next?

Someone once wrote that nothing fails like success. Dickerson, if he isn’t careful, could be living proof.