03-28-2020, 09:34 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-28-2020, 09:44 AM by BRNXB0MBERS.)
WHO IS PETE “PLOP” MILLER?
The Husband, Father, and Leader
Jeremy Cluff, Arizona Republic | Mar 28, 2020 | Phoenix
It’s a sweltering Saturday morning, Pete “Plop” Miller’s day off. But the Outlaw isn’t really off. He’s already reported to State Farm Stadium to undergo treatment on his right knee that’s been giving him problems since week 3. When he returns home, there is always a blitz of activity. His wife demands that he clean the garage and help with lunch; the kids want to play basketball and wrestle in the backyard; and Plop knows he needs to exercise and read the game plan for the game on Monday.
Miller, who has been fined for hitting his own QB in practice, went on a post-practice tirade in the locker room, and got into a scuffle with a rival coach after a big hit, now creeps around the backyard to sneak up on his youngest son, Dwight, with an agility never displayed in his career on the gridiron. Actually, Miller has become such an elusive, nimble, quick hunter that Dwight cannot possible escape his 6-foot-3-inch, 310-pound father.
Is this the same man who has been accused of being a mean and dirty player in the NSFL?
“That’s only for 60 minutes,’’ says his wife and biggest fan, Kelly. “Off the field, he’s a big teddy bear. He’s like mush. He’s the furthest thing from a mean guy. Well, unless you cross him – then that fire comes back quickly.’’
Pete “Plop” Miller, 22, is no pretty boy. His shirts always seem to have a hole or two, Kelly tells him, but he doesn’t care. His hair isn’t blowing in the wind. Just the opposite, his hairline is receding.
Nobody grows up dreaming to play nose tackle, lining up in the zero- or one-technique, and being double-teamed while everyone gushes over the skill position players.
“Of course not. There are no linemen on the playground,’’ Miller says. “You want to be a running back, a wide receiver. You want to be the quarterback.’’
He knows he’s no Jay Cue, the QB for the Outlaws.
“His life is glamorous. He gets all the attention and rubs elbows with the highest-ranking members of the league,’’ says Miller. “He’s a great player and a fantastic guy. You think of most quarterbacks as snobs, but he’s not like that.’’
Miller’s professional life is spent in the trenches, only an arm’s reach away from the quarterback. His notoriety follows the same pattern.
He was selected 14th overall in the NSFL S21 draft, and he has quickly become an important player on Arizona’s defense. But not many people appreciate a nose tackle, according to Miller, except the coaches and other linemen.
“From the perspective of a fan, your average viewer, they really don’t understand nose tackles, what they do, or how important they are,’’ he says.
Miller estimates that of the dozens of snaps he plays each game, he is single-covered just a handful of times. Yet he is on pace for 38 tackles and 9 sacks in his rookie year, while freeing up teammates to make huge plays.
---
Off the field, he’s low profile. The mailbox outside his two-story craftsman home is simply labeled “The Millers’’. Hardly anyone ever rings the doorbell and bothers him.
“I’m your average Joe,’’ he says. “I’m your neighbor. I’m your blue-collar worker. I’m your everyday guy. I don’t send people out to get my mail or hire people to cut my lawn. I don’t have personal assistants or any of that. I’m a normal person. I drive myself. I don’t have a chauffeur or car service. I don’t need that. We shop at Wal-Mart. Our clothes are from Target. We don’t have to go to the mall.’’
To be fair, there is some evidence of his wealth from a three-year, $9 million contract signed after the draft. The house, the three cars in the driveway, and the virtual driving range in the basement put him a tad above middle class.
He’s also owns 40% of two promising young racehorses, Lunar Warrior and Blood Machine. He has applied for his thoroughbred license and has already started making improvements to a local stable he recently purchased. Miller has his eye on a new foal as well. Named Big Pete, Plop couldn’t help but make an offer.
Miller, a Kentucky native, dreams of winning the Kentucky Derby someday.
“That’s my ultimate goal,’’ he says. “You only live once.’’
The interior of Miller’s spacious home does not show many signs of football. There’s a framed photo of Miller with some dogs from the Humane Society. It’s signed by several of his fellow volunteers.
The refrigerator is covered with photos of the kids, Jim and Dwight.
On this Saturday, Miller is tired, but the family doesn’t care. It’s Dad-time.
“I want to kick back and relax on my off days, but there are no off days when you have kids,’’ Miller says. “They think Daddy’s home; let’s play. It’s hard to do, but it’s worth it. I love my family.’’
Miller says his parents weren’t in the picture that much, so he makes sure that won’t happen with his kids, no matter what.
“It’s tough sometimes,’’ he says. “They have so much energy. It’s amazing really. I can’t sit here and tell you it’s not hard. However, you have to let kids be kids, and they want to spend time with their dad.’’
---
Kelly starts to chuckle when she tells the story of how they met in college. She was a normal college student working at Chipotle to help cover tuition. He was a flourishing defensive lineman at the University of Kentucky.
“We met on one of those online dating sites,’’ she says. “He saw my profile and sent something lame, like, ‘Hey. I’m Pete. Give me a call.’ And I thought to myself, ‘This dude has got to be kidding me. Is this his first time on one of these?’ But, I called him. I didn’t even know he played football.
Miller, thinking back, laughs. He says they talked on the phone for a month or two before they even agreed to meet up for coffee.
“As soon as we met I knew she was the one,’’ he says. “I didn’t have to think twice, and I’ve never had any doubts. Two wonderful kids later, and we have a beautiful family. She is my rock. With her at my side, I don’t have a worry in the world. When I come home from football, I know she will be there to support me.’’
Kelly and the kids go to every Outlaws game, home and away. They have their own secret signs to talk from the stands. They even have an intricate communication system for injuries.
“If he’s on the ground for more than a few seconds, he better give me that signal when he gets to the sideline,’’ she says. “It’s not as if he can grab a cell phone and call. If I don’t get that signal, he’ll see me down there. I’ll find him. He knows that.’’
---
Miller wrestles in the backyard with Dwight, then plays basketball with Jim. He wins both easily, but he knows the day he loses will be here soon. Miller claims he can still dunk, but he’s too sore today. It’s all fun and games, but when he loses a game of H-O-R-S-E, he gets upset.
“I hate to lose,’’ he says. “It’s that simple. I want to be the best.”
He also thinks he can play just about any position in football. Just like his teammate Saba Donut, who plays wide receiver on game days, he likes to goof around at quarterback.
When the offense and defense switched sides at the end of a recent practice, Plop took snaps from the shotgun and led the team down the field for a touchdown.
“It was pure bliss,’’ Miller says. “Jay joked that he couldn’t have done it any better.’’
He also believes he could perform at a high level as a hybrid linebacker.
“I can do it,’’ he says. “I don’t know why people think that’s so crazy. What’s it going to take for people to start believing me? Yea, I grew up and got big, but I can still be quick.”
Miller claims he even beat Donut in a preseason bet before S21.
“Most days after practice, I would line up at receiver and he would try to defend me,’’ Miller says. “I came out victorious. He’ll probably lie and say he was better, but it’s just not true. I’m a competitive man. I want to win in everything I do. If I find something that I can’t do, I’ll learn. But I can do anything on the football field.’’
In high school, Miller set a Kentucky state record in the shot put and hammer throw.
But that’s not his focus right now. Now he’s playing the part of Farmer Miller, pulling out peppers and onions to grill as part of a chicken fajita dinner. Looking around, there’s also eggplant, green beans, squash, lettuce, tomatoes, and kale popping up amid the weeds.
“Don’t take any pictures. I haven’t weeded in a while,’’ Miller says. “And don’t tell me wife.”
He lets out a sly smile.
---
He also takes offense to those who criticize the Outlaws’ defense.
“I don’t agree that we have a bunch of no-names,’’ he says. “We have a bunch of guys who work hard and know what it takes to win. We challenge each other every day. We’ve had some misfortune this season, but our future is bright.’’
Miller says he tries to lead by example.
“I try not to yell or get angry,’’ he says. “I play football and try to improve every day. I don’t respond to yelling, and I try to treat others as I want to be treated.
“I do my job and trust my teammates beside and behind me to do theirs. The game film doesn’t lie. The crowd might not see that misstep, but you are going to see it in the film room. I don’t need people yelling, because I don’t think you need to yell to get your point across. We’re all professionals. We know what we did wrong and we know what we need to improve.’’
edit: I a word
The Husband, Father, and Leader
Jeremy Cluff, Arizona Republic | Mar 28, 2020 | Phoenix
It’s a sweltering Saturday morning, Pete “Plop” Miller’s day off. But the Outlaw isn’t really off. He’s already reported to State Farm Stadium to undergo treatment on his right knee that’s been giving him problems since week 3. When he returns home, there is always a blitz of activity. His wife demands that he clean the garage and help with lunch; the kids want to play basketball and wrestle in the backyard; and Plop knows he needs to exercise and read the game plan for the game on Monday.
Miller, who has been fined for hitting his own QB in practice, went on a post-practice tirade in the locker room, and got into a scuffle with a rival coach after a big hit, now creeps around the backyard to sneak up on his youngest son, Dwight, with an agility never displayed in his career on the gridiron. Actually, Miller has become such an elusive, nimble, quick hunter that Dwight cannot possible escape his 6-foot-3-inch, 310-pound father.
Is this the same man who has been accused of being a mean and dirty player in the NSFL?
“That’s only for 60 minutes,’’ says his wife and biggest fan, Kelly. “Off the field, he’s a big teddy bear. He’s like mush. He’s the furthest thing from a mean guy. Well, unless you cross him – then that fire comes back quickly.’’
Pete “Plop” Miller, 22, is no pretty boy. His shirts always seem to have a hole or two, Kelly tells him, but he doesn’t care. His hair isn’t blowing in the wind. Just the opposite, his hairline is receding.
Nobody grows up dreaming to play nose tackle, lining up in the zero- or one-technique, and being double-teamed while everyone gushes over the skill position players.
“Of course not. There are no linemen on the playground,’’ Miller says. “You want to be a running back, a wide receiver. You want to be the quarterback.’’
He knows he’s no Jay Cue, the QB for the Outlaws.
“His life is glamorous. He gets all the attention and rubs elbows with the highest-ranking members of the league,’’ says Miller. “He’s a great player and a fantastic guy. You think of most quarterbacks as snobs, but he’s not like that.’’
Miller’s professional life is spent in the trenches, only an arm’s reach away from the quarterback. His notoriety follows the same pattern.
He was selected 14th overall in the NSFL S21 draft, and he has quickly become an important player on Arizona’s defense. But not many people appreciate a nose tackle, according to Miller, except the coaches and other linemen.
“From the perspective of a fan, your average viewer, they really don’t understand nose tackles, what they do, or how important they are,’’ he says.
Miller estimates that of the dozens of snaps he plays each game, he is single-covered just a handful of times. Yet he is on pace for 38 tackles and 9 sacks in his rookie year, while freeing up teammates to make huge plays.
---
Off the field, he’s low profile. The mailbox outside his two-story craftsman home is simply labeled “The Millers’’. Hardly anyone ever rings the doorbell and bothers him.
“I’m your average Joe,’’ he says. “I’m your neighbor. I’m your blue-collar worker. I’m your everyday guy. I don’t send people out to get my mail or hire people to cut my lawn. I don’t have personal assistants or any of that. I’m a normal person. I drive myself. I don’t have a chauffeur or car service. I don’t need that. We shop at Wal-Mart. Our clothes are from Target. We don’t have to go to the mall.’’
To be fair, there is some evidence of his wealth from a three-year, $9 million contract signed after the draft. The house, the three cars in the driveway, and the virtual driving range in the basement put him a tad above middle class.
He’s also owns 40% of two promising young racehorses, Lunar Warrior and Blood Machine. He has applied for his thoroughbred license and has already started making improvements to a local stable he recently purchased. Miller has his eye on a new foal as well. Named Big Pete, Plop couldn’t help but make an offer.
Miller, a Kentucky native, dreams of winning the Kentucky Derby someday.
“That’s my ultimate goal,’’ he says. “You only live once.’’
The interior of Miller’s spacious home does not show many signs of football. There’s a framed photo of Miller with some dogs from the Humane Society. It’s signed by several of his fellow volunteers.
The refrigerator is covered with photos of the kids, Jim and Dwight.
On this Saturday, Miller is tired, but the family doesn’t care. It’s Dad-time.
“I want to kick back and relax on my off days, but there are no off days when you have kids,’’ Miller says. “They think Daddy’s home; let’s play. It’s hard to do, but it’s worth it. I love my family.’’
Miller says his parents weren’t in the picture that much, so he makes sure that won’t happen with his kids, no matter what.
“It’s tough sometimes,’’ he says. “They have so much energy. It’s amazing really. I can’t sit here and tell you it’s not hard. However, you have to let kids be kids, and they want to spend time with their dad.’’
---
Kelly starts to chuckle when she tells the story of how they met in college. She was a normal college student working at Chipotle to help cover tuition. He was a flourishing defensive lineman at the University of Kentucky.
“We met on one of those online dating sites,’’ she says. “He saw my profile and sent something lame, like, ‘Hey. I’m Pete. Give me a call.’ And I thought to myself, ‘This dude has got to be kidding me. Is this his first time on one of these?’ But, I called him. I didn’t even know he played football.
Miller, thinking back, laughs. He says they talked on the phone for a month or two before they even agreed to meet up for coffee.
“As soon as we met I knew she was the one,’’ he says. “I didn’t have to think twice, and I’ve never had any doubts. Two wonderful kids later, and we have a beautiful family. She is my rock. With her at my side, I don’t have a worry in the world. When I come home from football, I know she will be there to support me.’’
Kelly and the kids go to every Outlaws game, home and away. They have their own secret signs to talk from the stands. They even have an intricate communication system for injuries.
“If he’s on the ground for more than a few seconds, he better give me that signal when he gets to the sideline,’’ she says. “It’s not as if he can grab a cell phone and call. If I don’t get that signal, he’ll see me down there. I’ll find him. He knows that.’’
---
Miller wrestles in the backyard with Dwight, then plays basketball with Jim. He wins both easily, but he knows the day he loses will be here soon. Miller claims he can still dunk, but he’s too sore today. It’s all fun and games, but when he loses a game of H-O-R-S-E, he gets upset.
“I hate to lose,’’ he says. “It’s that simple. I want to be the best.”
He also thinks he can play just about any position in football. Just like his teammate Saba Donut, who plays wide receiver on game days, he likes to goof around at quarterback.
When the offense and defense switched sides at the end of a recent practice, Plop took snaps from the shotgun and led the team down the field for a touchdown.
“It was pure bliss,’’ Miller says. “Jay joked that he couldn’t have done it any better.’’
He also believes he could perform at a high level as a hybrid linebacker.
“I can do it,’’ he says. “I don’t know why people think that’s so crazy. What’s it going to take for people to start believing me? Yea, I grew up and got big, but I can still be quick.”
Miller claims he even beat Donut in a preseason bet before S21.
“Most days after practice, I would line up at receiver and he would try to defend me,’’ Miller says. “I came out victorious. He’ll probably lie and say he was better, but it’s just not true. I’m a competitive man. I want to win in everything I do. If I find something that I can’t do, I’ll learn. But I can do anything on the football field.’’
In high school, Miller set a Kentucky state record in the shot put and hammer throw.
But that’s not his focus right now. Now he’s playing the part of Farmer Miller, pulling out peppers and onions to grill as part of a chicken fajita dinner. Looking around, there’s also eggplant, green beans, squash, lettuce, tomatoes, and kale popping up amid the weeds.
“Don’t take any pictures. I haven’t weeded in a while,’’ Miller says. “And don’t tell me wife.”
He lets out a sly smile.
---
He also takes offense to those who criticize the Outlaws’ defense.
“I don’t agree that we have a bunch of no-names,’’ he says. “We have a bunch of guys who work hard and know what it takes to win. We challenge each other every day. We’ve had some misfortune this season, but our future is bright.’’
Miller says he tries to lead by example.
“I try not to yell or get angry,’’ he says. “I play football and try to improve every day. I don’t respond to yelling, and I try to treat others as I want to be treated.
“I do my job and trust my teammates beside and behind me to do theirs. The game film doesn’t lie. The crowd might not see that misstep, but you are going to see it in the film room. I don’t need people yelling, because I don’t think you need to yell to get your point across. We’re all professionals. We know what we did wrong and we know what we need to improve.’’
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1724 words
edit: I a word