interesting article on TO from ESPN: by Dan LeBatard:
Asked for one word to describe himself, Owens says, "Confident." Asked for another, he adds, "Very." Insecurities? "None whatsoever. People are scared of that. Intimidated." Such arrogance is wonderfully helpful on the field, but it doesn't serve him so well elsewhere. Sports America, especially white America, older America, tends to prefer its athletic heroes humble, more like aw-shucks Boy Scout Peyton Manning. That may explain why the best-selling NFL jerseys are those of Tom Brady and Brian Urlacher. Sports America tends to be more comfortable with modesty, even if it's patently false, than arrogance, even if it's the God's honest truth. Owens' greatest sin isn't knowing that he's better than everyone on the field as much as it is letting you know he knows it.
No less an authority than Jerry Rice counseled Owens to turn down the volume on that, but ...
"Man, that's not me," Owens says. "I wasn't raised like that. I'm stubborn. Jerry talked to me about how to talk to the media, how to play the game, but I'm not interested. I'm going to have my fun. And if I get attacked, I'm going to put my armor on and my shield up."
Owens has always been a loner, ever since a suffocating childhood with a grandmother who drank, whipped him and rarely allowed him to leave her yard. Owens put a barrier of icy distance between himself and his 49ers teammates when he arrived in 1996. Dana Stubblefield, who says he now likes Owens, acknowledges that most guys in the league and in his own locker room don't. Jeremy Newberry once threatened to beat up Owens if he didn't stop whining about not getting the ball. And Kevan Barlow, a rookie last year, called him antisocial.
Antisocial? "Probably," Owens says. Does he care if he's disliked? "Not really. This isn't a nice game. I find joy within myself."
There's a certain independence associated with his position. Even the reinvented Rice was, by his own admission, a world-class *** his first decade in the league, often walking away in midsentence from even 49ers employees trying to talk to him. So Owens says, "I don't mind being called selfish. I didn't get where I am being unselfish." Owens believes, correctly, he's the best player on his team and therefore extrapolates, correctly, that getting him the ball gives his team the best chance to win. Joe Montana, patron saint of the 49ers way, whatever the hell that is, thought the same way. A lot of guys in sports are selfish like that. The "good guys" are just far better at hiding it.
This year, after having a friend die last off-season, Owens has tried to be more affable in ways his teammates have noticed. He's smiling more, mingling more, leaving rambling thank-you messages on answering machines, but it is not nearly as natural for him as distance is.
"I didn't talk to nobody at all when I got here because I really didn't know how to interact," Owens says. "I didn't have a lot of affection in my childhood, so I don't know how to be affectionate. I still have trouble with that at times, but I'm getting better. I'm still moody, but I'm getting better. Growing up, I never heard 'I love you' from my mother, my grandmother, my father. I heard it from my mom the first time two years ago, and it still seems awkward. There's hesitance."
Owens grew up caged in a small rectangle between his grandmother's steps and her mailbox in Alexander City, Ala. He was never allowed to play football or bicycle with the kids out front. Through high school, he couldn't watch TV or leave that yard. He'd sneak away sometimes when his grandmother passed out, but the other kids would tell him he had better get back home.
Terrell doesn't hate his grandmother for that, saying, "I've never questioned it." He figures he wouldn't be where he is without her keeping him from trouble. In fact, he begins crying now when discussing her Alzheimer's, saying his biggest regret is that she can't recognize him, or what he's become. The tears come again later, when talking about -- of all things -- Wheel of Fortune. He froze during a guest appearance on it, awed by touching and hearing the wheel, because that was the only show his grandmother had ever allowed him to watch, and now she wasn't lucid enough to be proud of him for appearing on it.
complete article:
http://espn.go.com/magazine/vol5no25owens.html