Here's one example of why Miami Dolphins defensive end Jason Taylor literally doesn't have time for the fascinating tension gurgling atop the Dolphins organization between Miami's star boss and Miami's star employee:
The other day, Taylor rushed late to a lunch with Denzel Washington. Taylor's Dancing With the Stars partner kept texting him during that two-hour meal to remind Taylor he was late for rehearsal. So Taylor told Washington that, sorry, he couldn't go over to a nearby hotel to meet a waiting friend of Washington's who also wanted an audience with Taylor. That friend was Al Pacino.
Understandably, Dolphins boss Bill ''The Big Tuna'' Parcells doesn't like that his best player has gone Hollywood, though we haven't heard from Parcells directly because he isn't at all interested in the big lights Taylor now craves. Parcells' world has never been much larger than that of football. He disdains how celebrity and ego contaminate his beloved sport. Why the bleep are Scarface and Malcolm X and bleeping dancers invading his bloody world? Seriously? Dancing? Parcells would call them distractions if he had any interest in speaking to the cameras.
Meanwhile, Taylor quietly shrugs his shoulder pads and applies more makeup as he continues to build the bridge toward his next career. Taylor's schedules and interests don't allow him to focus on the feelings of a single Tuna when he is now swimming with so many bigger fish.
Taylor's Hollywood agent is Patrick Whitesell, the guy who helped Matt Damon and Ben Affleck into Hollywood and helped morph Will Smith and Hugh Jackman into action stars. Taylor's publicity firm, Rogers and Cowan, is the world's largest and has represented everyone from Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor to Bruce Willis and Elton John.
Rogers and Cowan prides itself on ''managing clients at the intersection of entertainment, technology and consumer marketing,'' while Parcells prides himself on managing clients at the intersection of violence and busted heads. So Taylor is on the other side of the country from Parcells literally and figuratively, in another world. His rented home is a block from Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Taylor was greeted coldly by his new bosses in the only 36 hours he has spent in South Florida since February -- with Parcells reportedly giving him the silent treatment.
Parcells would like his star lifting weights here. Instead, his star is being named one of People magazine's 100 Most Beautiful People there. Parcells would like his star leading his teammates here. Instead, his star is huddling on TV with Jay Leno there. Parcells wants Taylor in pads, not wardrobe. It is old school versus new school. Cave man versus chameleon. Dictator versus dancer. And 20 million people can tune in every week to see why the tension keeps growing, step by step.
Big things are being discussed for Taylor in Hollywood. Not just TV commercials, though Taylor's people seem to get a call about those every day. Movies. Plural. And not limited stuff like The Rock is doing. Taylor is being shaped to appeal to both males and females. Everything about his rise has been as orchestrated as his dance routines.
Taylor's sports agent, Gary Wichard, says of Taylor's growing fame, ``This isn't just happening by accident. This has been planned and strategized. We've been talking about this since he left Akron. This is fruition.''
Wichard originally went to Taylor with the Dancing With the Stars proposal. Hell No, was the initial response. That softened to No Way. Took two months of prodding from family and advisors to convince him. Taylor wanted to quit after the first dance class in Florida. Wanted to quit after the first day in Los Angeles, too.
''This is something I would never think in my life I would do,'' he says.
Biggest fear?
''Total embarrassment,'' he says.
He is one of only five dancers remaining, but the terror of his first dance compares to nothing he has ever felt in his bloody profession.
''I was very nervous my first NFL game, somewhat scared, but it was still football -- comfortable,'' he says. ``It isn't the dancing in front of the 300 or 400 in the studio you have to worry about. It is the 20 million at home. I was a mess. If I had seen someone cut their finger or I'd seen blood, I would have thrown up.''
You can see both sides with Parcells and Taylor at the top of their profession and their Dolphins at the bottom of it. Parcells, creator of a culture, wants help cleaning up the biggest mess in franchise history. Taylor is paid millions to tackle dancers, not become one. But this is Taylor's free time. Workouts this time of year are contractually voluntary. And Taylor has a chef and 5 percent body fat. He says he has never been this fit this time of year, when his workouts usually consist of golf and cigars. And there is no Dolphin who needs less football work than Taylor, who was named the league's best defender two seasons ago.
Taylor has always put football first, but he is unreasonably competitive in all walks of life. He gets mad at himself because he won't let his kids win games against him. He cheats at board games with his wife. His teammates call him Anger Man because he'll hurl a pot of coffee in the locker room in a pregame froth. And he is now attacking Hollywood with the same sort of passion and zeal.
''His schedule is like no schedule I've ever seen,'' Wichard says. ``It is insane. The time investment is ludicrous.''
Wichard checks Taylor's schedule on his Blackberry.
8 a.m. to 12 a.m. -- Rehearsal, Arthur Murray Dance Studio
12-1 -- Wardrobe fitting
1-1:30 -- Results interview
2-5:30 -- Stage rehearsal, CBS
6-11 -- Rehearsal, LA Dance Studio
''He lifts weights before that,'' Wichard says. ``This is all worth it, though. This is the launch pad. I was trying to get him into People magazine for at least the last five years. You think they put him in this year because the Dolphins were 1-15?''
You think Parcells is watching you dance, Jason?
''I doubt it,'' he says. ``If he is, we'll never know because he won't tell us. I'm sure he knows what goes on every week. Someone is telling him. Every regime that comes in -- and we've had so many -- has their own ideas and their own way of doing things. I'm not here to get in the way. If they want any help, I'm here to help.''
He has the polish down. Taylor doesn't want to discuss the alleged tension with Parcells. He could make a public mess and demand to be traded after Parcells allegedly disrespected him with the silent treatment, but what's the point? The fan base might turn on him if he goes the loud trade-me route, and what kind of way is that to punctuate his exceptional Dolphins career? Better to just keep dancing. So what if Parcells is mad? Taylor once knocked Jimmy Johnson's hands off him during a sideline disagreement, and there have only been one, two, three, four, five new bosses since then if you count Jim Bates.
Besides, Parcells doesn't always have the most mature managing style. He once called an injured receiver, Terry Glenn, ''she.'' He refused to address diva Terrell Owens by name, calling him The Player. It might not be long before he goes from giving Taylor the silent treatment to calling him The Dancer.
But, for the record, Taylor has tried swallowing his Hollywood desires for every previous Dolphins coach, and all he has to show for it is six years without a playoff appearance. Wichard says Taylor turned down a part in Ghost Rider, the Nicolas Cage action film, because it was overseas during Nick Saban's offseason regimen. Never mind all the meetings and commercial opportunities ignored under Dave Wannstedt and Cam Cameron. Taylor signed on for Dancing With the Stars on Dec. 11, before Parcells was even hired here. How could he check on what Parcells wants or didn't want if Parcells wasn't even the boss then?
Asked how his life has changed, Taylor says, ``It has gotten crazy. Crazier. Everything is different. It has been a blast.''
He wore eye black and his partner wore Dolphins colors in their most recent dance to the theme of Monday Night Football. Through force of will and personality, he is going to merge his two worlds whether his boss likes it or not. He punctuated his last dance by making the signals referees make after a score, arms raised in triumph.
Touchdown?
No, Jason Taylor isn't touching down.
He's taking off.
