Column: A decision that’s truly Worilds apart

Baltimore Ravens v Pittsburgh Steelers

Jason Worilds announced his retirement through his agent early Wednesday morning. — GETTY

BY DEJAN KOVACEVIC

“I don’t know. What do you think will happen?”

It was nearing midnight at Heinz Field on the fourth of January, and most of the Steelers were still peeling off the sweat and the sting of getting steamrolled out of the playoffs by the rival Ravens. Big men were brought to their knees. Steve McLendon wept. Willie Gay stared silently at the floor. James Harrison, Troy Polamalu and Ike Taylor buttoned each button ever so slowly, visibly aware each might be the last.

And Jason Worilds, as ever, worried.

As the media crowded around the fading elders, I took a detour to the stall marked No. 93, where its occupant sat on a stool and gazed at the equipment he’d removed much later than most. And I asked the man, given that he was about to become a free agent, what he thought management might do.

He gave the above answer, which bears repeating because it speaks so much about him.

“I don’t know. What do you think will happen?”

As he said that, he looked up, as if somehow there could be a meaningful answer to that. I had none, of course. I simply repeated something we’d discussed for weeks, how if he felt it were important to stay in Pittsburgh — and I never believed that line more from any athlete I’ve covered — that usually these things just work themselves out.

“OK,” he replied, the head going back down. “I just don’t know.”

And now, none of us do. Or probably ever will.

At 12:13 a.m. today, well after the NFL’s furious first day of free agency seemingly had been put to bed, Worilds’ agent, Jason Bernstein, tweeted out the stunner that his client, at age 27, was announcing his retirement from football.

Here’s the full statement, attributed to Worilds, that Bernstein issued: “I appreciate all of the interest from the organizations that have reached out to us the past few days. With that being said, after much thought and consideration, I have chosen to step away from football as I have opted to pursue other interests. I am especially grateful of the opportunity to play before some of the greatest fans in football today. Despite any concern and speculation that may ensue, I appreciate those that are respectful of my decision.”

Poof. Just like that.

From making a $9,754,000 million salary and on the verge of adding untold millions, from 25.5 sacks and a chance to climb the ladder, from working relentlessly to overcome the image of being oft-injured to becoming a full-fledged starter to … finished.

If this isn’t one of the most stunning developments in this storied franchise’s history, good luck compiling a list of those that top it.

And at the same time … well, maybe we shouldn’t be all that taken aback.

In San Francisco yesterday, a weeping Patrick Willis, the NFL’s definitive inside linebacker of the past decade, called it quits at age 30. The 49ers were stunned, too, but Willis poignantly described his decision thusly: “You’ve seen me break my hand on Sunday, have surgery on Monday and play on Thursday with a cast on. But there’s something about these feet. And those are what made me who I am. They had you all saying, ‘Wow, where’d he come from?’ I know I no longer have it in these feet to go out there and give you guys that kind of ‘Wow.’ ”

In Nashville yesterday, Jake Locker, with all of four seasons as an NFL quarterback, called it quits at age 26. He chose, like Worilds, to issue a statement: “Football has always played a pivotal role in my life and I love the game, but I no longer have the burning desire necessary to play the game for a living; to continue to do so would be unfair to the next organization with whom I would eventually sign. I realize this decision is surprising to many, but I know in my heart that it is the right decision, and I look forward to spending more time with my family and pursuing other interests.”

This is much more in line with Worilds’ call than the one made by Willis. Worilds wasn’t declining at all. As Kevin Colbert was telling me just a couple of weeks ago, the Steelers saw him as very much a “player on the ascent.” He wasn’t as effective this past season, with only 7.5 sacks, as the previous one, but it’s a tough stance to dispute.

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No, what happened to Worilds, from what I know, is that, from at least some point following that season-ending scene in the locker room, he achieved a powerful realization, driven in large part by a push to give himself to his faith.

On Feb. 5, Worilds tweeted: “There’s a problem. But if you constantly factor in money, you’ll never figure the equation.”

As a result, over the past few days, Bernstein began quietly telling teams that contacted him about Worilds’ services — as well as the Steelers — that Worilds was struggling to figure out his immediate future. Among the suitors, as one might expect, were the Titans and Dick LeBeau, who always has loved Worilds as a player and person.

Maybe that’s why Worilds never let the process play out, for fear that LeBeau would convince him to keep playing. Maybe that’s why Worilds never engaged the Steelers in serious talks. But again, we’ll probably never know the full extent.

I only feel confident in three facets of all this:

1. The Steelers got seriously lucky.

Another topic for another day, I suppose, but the team very easily could have invested a ton of cash and cap space into a player who couldn’t have been fully invested. All the more reason to credit Worilds for his honesty.

2. Don’t dare accuse Worilds of going soft.

I saw the man’s eyes widen after that December game in Atlanta when he received the ridiculous flag for crushing Matt Ryan — cleanly — into the Georgia Dome turf. He knew he’d played the game hard but fair, and it took no more than that flare and “I have nothing to say about this” to grasp that.

At the next stall, James Harrison offered a fist bump.

If he’s tough enough for Harrison, he’s tough enough for the rest of us.

Some will suggest in this case, as well as with Willis and Locker, the growing concerns about concussions and longer-lasting effects for NFL players. It’s a very real issue, one that should have the league and its players’ union pushing every possible button for preventive solutions, as well as post-career care.

All I’m saying is I saw and heard zero evidence to that effect with Worilds.

3. Worilds wanted to be loved by the Steelers.

Oh, man, did he ever. When I mention above that Worilds was immersed in worry, this was almost always the cause. He was badly hurt upon arriving when he missed so much time that Mike Tomlin and others were openly disappointed, especially teammates. But even once he claimed his spot by taking LaMarr Woodley’s job at midseason, he still frequently fretted about how much the team does or doesn’t value him or believe in him.

Here was my final interview with Worilds, two days after the loss to the Ravens and on his way out of the team’s South Side practice facility …

I won’t stretch this to suggest that, if the Steelers had approached him about an extension earlier, his sentiment now might be different. I’ve got too much respect for religion to compare it to sports. But I will emphasize that playing football — specifically in Pittsburgh and in this city, as his statement above supports — mattered most to him.

Just not anymore.

Good luck and best of health to this extraordinary young man. A life of worry isn’t a life worth living, no matter the pay. Go enjoy it to the fullest.

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