Son Emerges From Long Shadow

CHARLOTTESVILLE

Chris Long is running alone under the floodlights at the Virginia football team's practice field. The rest of his teammates have walked off the field and into the locker room, content to be done with their first practice of the preseason. Stripped down to a pair of gray spandex shorts and soaked in sweat, with blades of grass sticking to his body in the thick summer air, Long sprints up and down the field.

He's running because in a few weeks, he'll play a mile above sea level for the first time at Wyoming, and as a third-year starter and the current face of the team, he needs to be ready. He's running because he finds out what everyone else does, and then he does more. He's running because of the tattoo on his back that's almost too small to see: small, green letters that spell "PRIDE."

He's running because he has discovered that upholding his own reputation is even more difficult than escaping family comparisons. He is no longer Howie's kid, son of a Hall of Famer; he is one of the best college football players in the country, a lock to be one of the first 10 players picked in the NFL draft.

Mostly, though, Chris Long is running for the same reason his father did years ago. He is afraid.

"Fear of failure," Long said. "I have the same fears that he does. That's the eerie part. We both are petrified of coming out and getting embarrassed. You've got to take pride in what you do. People are counting on you -- teammates are counting on you, fans are counting on you. If you go 100 miles an hour, at least at the end of the day, you worked yourself silly out there. That's all you can do."

Famous Father

It's almost midnight this past Monday, and Long is at CVS with Clint Sintim, his roommate and an outside linebacker. They need a new alarm clock for their house, but Sintim plans to get more out of the trip.

"This is Chris Long!" Sintim shouts, running behind an aisle to hide. He won't let up. "Number 91! Howie Long's son! Son of a Hall of Famer!"

Long can be brutal when he needles his friends, always needing to get in the last joke. This is their recourse. Aaron Grossman, Long's one roommate who does not play football, walks up to strangers and says, "Do you know this is Howie Long's son?"

Long blushes, like he always does, but he laughs, too. He tells them to cut it out, but doesn't seem to mean it.

"We wouldn't do it any other way," Grossman said. "He's not 'Howie Long's Son' anymore. He's Chris Long. The joke is just a joke."