Smith's 'ridiculous' career lands him in Canton.

TAMPA, Fla. -- As I watched Bruce Smith stand behind the microphone on stage at a news conference introducing the Pro Football Hall of Fame's Class of 2009, seeing the tears in his eyes as he spoke, I was struck by how quickly time had flown by.

He was talking about how much he had wanted his father, who had sacrificed so much for his son to have a better life than he did, to witness that moment. I remember when his dad was alive and how often Smith would mention him.

He was talking about the 11 surgeries he underwent during his 19 NFL seasons. I remember when injuries caused him to miss parts of those seasons, yet couldn't stop him from becoming the game's all-time sack leader.

"I'm just so blessed right now to be standing in front of you," Smith said, even though his selection was a slam dunk long before his retirement in 2003.

Seated only a few feet away was Ralph Wilson, the man who signed the checks that Smith cashed during his first 15 years in the league with the Buffalo Bills. Wilson, the Bills' 90-year-old owner, was not a slam dunk, but he, too, was inducted.

"I cry not because I'm less of a man," Smith said. "I cry because I am a man and this is very special to me."

I remember when the man was a kid, sitting on a table, hands under his thighs, legs swinging in and out as he spoke about what he was going to do with all of that money he would be paid as the top overall pick of the 1985 NFL draft. He didn't offer many details, although there was mention of a car somewhere along the line.

I remember thinking that there were certainly going to be plenty of groceries, because at dinner the night before he had polished off two full loaves of bread, smeared with butter, before the soup and other appetizers and an entrée of steak and lobster had arrived.

And I remember thinking, "This is Bruce Smith? This is the incredibly athletic defensive end and Outland Trophy winner from Virginia Tech? This is the player the Buffalo Bills believe is a key to them no longer being a laughingstock?"

I got to thinking that the first big decision by the team's new general manager, Bill Polian, was a swing and a miss. I got to thinking that maybe the people who responded to the poll that I had put together for The Buffalo News, my employer at the time, had the right pick after all: Doug Flutie, the Heisman Trophy-winning quarterback from Boston College. Or, perhaps the Bills should have gone with the draft's other highly-touted defensive end, Ray Childress, from Texas A&M.

Then came that first season -- when Smith had registered 6.5 sacks -- and it seemed as if there wasn't anything particularly special about the kid who, at 300 pounds, seemed too heavy to be a consistently dominant NFL defensive end. Hank Bullough, Buffalo's coach at the time, didn't think so and the two quickly formed an unhappy relationship on the way to Buffalo's second consecutive 2-14 season.

A year later, however, Jim Kelly became the Bills' quarterback and nine games into the season, Marv Levy became their coach. And even though the Bills only won two more games, Smith's sack count soared to 15, which quickly washed away any thoughts that he might become a "bust."

By 1987, the fat was gone. He discovered the miracles of a stair-stepper and better eating habits, and proceeded to sculpt himself into a lean, mean, sacking machine. Smith's workouts were so intense, in fact, that he began breaking one stair-stepper after another.

As a defensive end, he wasn't just good. He wasn't just great. To borrow a description from one of his teammates, former Bills nose tackle Fred Smerlas, he was "ridiculous."

There was no blocking the guy. There was no stopping his ability to take over a game. Bills opponents had a dilemma the likes of which had not been seen from them in years. And with Kelly throwing touchdown passes and Smith sacking the other teams' quarterbacks, the Bills started to win, started to make regular trips to the Super Bowl, started to be the most dominant team of the 1990s.

Sure, Smith had his issues. He never seemed happy with his contract, which proved to be a source of irritation to more than one of his coaches and many of his teammates. He didn't like to practice and somehow managed to always find a way to spend most of training camp on the sidelines.

Yet, when it was time to play, Smith did what the Bills needed him to do. He terrorized quarterbacks. He controlled his end of the line of scrimmage. He frustrated team after team that couldn't find an answer to his deadly combination of quickness, strength, instincts, and intelligence.

Through intensive film study with outside linebacker Darryl Talley, he constantly put himself in the best possible position to take advantage of the opponents' weaknesses. Smith and Talley struck fear in the hearts of more than a few offensive tackles through the years.

"Darryl Talley is one of the reasons I'm standing up here," Smith said. "We were like Batman and Robin. We were a duo."

It was hard not to notice that Smith seemed to have more privileges than other players on the team, but as one of the Bills coaches said at the time, "There are some guys who get one hamburger for lunch and some who get two. Bruce gets two."

The Bills had other exceptional players on those teams of the late 1980s and 1990s. Kelly had an incredible arm to go along with incredible toughness. Thurman Thomas had the ability to run around and through defenders. Kelly and Levy were first-ballot members of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, while Thomas got in during his second year of eligibility.

But no one had Smith's pure talent. No one consistently established himself as the very best player on the field the way Smith did. He simply performed at a different level than everyone else.

That was why Smith put up those insane sack numbers, 200 for his career and 171 with the Bills, and why he was able to remain an effective player through those final four seasons of his career, which were spent with the Washington Redskins.

Just before the news conference, Smith spoke with another fellow Hall of Famer, Levy, who also was in attendance.

"I think, Bruce, you have a cause to celebrate; there'll be no curfew tonight," Levy joked.

"Marv, we probably would have skipped out of curfew anyway," Smith said with a laugh.

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