Portis Shoulders an Emotional Load

A few days before he rushed for 196 yards against the New York Jets' porous run defense the last time the Redskins won a game, he said he would carry the team on his back.

Now, out of terrible circumstance, that pledge takes on new meaning. And no matter the yards or touchdowns piled up between today and January, Portis's value should not be minimized.

Unbeknownst to even some teammates, he was the liaison between Gibbs and Taylor -- especially when the hard-headed young safety was not returning Gibbs's calls in the 2005 offseason.

"Coach always called, 'Sean, he only talks to you. He'll only listen to you. Call him and tell him to call me,' " said Portis, repeating what Gibbs, frustrated with Taylor at the time, had told him.

"Knowing for some reason that I had that effect on Sean, whatever that reason was, knowing that I had an opportunity to help Sean through life and help Sean mold hisself, feels good," he said. "Knowing that I had the opportunity to really sit down and talk to Sean, that I was one of the few people who could get Sean out of the house, or one of the few people who could call Sean on his cellphone and he would answer or call back. I don't know. You just never know how you affect somebody."

Portis also acknowledged where he got the strength to lead from, the locker room.

"You look at London Fletcher, James Thrash or Randle El, [Vernon] Fox and those guys -- and how they live their life and how they carry theyselves," Portis said. "I'm sure they would never know that for me, sitting back in the [distance], I'm looking at them for guidance. Because I don't go and say, 'Man, I appreciate it,' or 'Man, I look up to you.' I feel the same way I look up to them, Sean looked up to me.

"He never really came and sat down and said, 'Aw, Clinton, you're this and that.' But at the same time, he would say thanks. You know, 'Thank you, man.' "

Portis paused, gathered himself and finished the interview. Then he walked into the locker room he had been trying to avoid. His cubicle is next to Taylor's, which is as Taylor left it and is now covered by plexiglass.

"Guys come by and look at the picture of him and his daughter [on a shelf in the locker]. Right now, I can't do it."

He's faced every other fear lately; in time, Portis will also deal with this one.

A few months back, a caller to sports-talk radio had a breathless and rehearsed take. He said, "Joe Gibbs can trust in Clinton Portis all he wants, but in the end Portis will break Gibbs's heart." The assumption was that the leeway Gibbs had given Portis in training camp in regard to not practicing -- how the coach deferred to the wishes of an elite athlete he believed in -- was going to come back to bite the coach. The inference was that Portis was more of a poser than the stone-cold back who led with his shoulder and his soul.

A few months later -- after a 5 a.m. knock on his door, calling teammates to tell them the tragic news, getting up onstage and delivering a eulogy to celebrate the life of Taylor and coming back to Washington to do his job tonight -- never has a sentiment carried less weight. Portis isn't going to break anyone's heart. Four days after he stood behind the casket of the kid he mentored, he's helping mend a franchise's spirit.