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Ellis' way: loud and clear
Hokies' standout end lives by one set of rules -- his own
Friday, Nov 16, 2007 - 12:06 AM
By DARRYL SLATER
TIMES-DISPATCH STAFF WRITER
BLACKSBURG Virginia Tech's players knelt in a circle around coach Frank Beamer one day last season and listened to his pre-practice spiel about how much of a challenge that Saturday's opponent, Miami, would pose with its tough offensive line. As Beamer finished talking, defensive end Chris Ellis stood up. Heads turned.
"You've got great defensive ends, and we've got a great team here," teammate Josh Morgan recalled Ellis saying. "So we're going to go down to Miami and whip their [butt]."
A few eyes widened. A few more jaws dropped. Then everyone cheered and huddled together.
Tech's coaches have long encouraged Ellis to be a leader, but he told them, "I only know how to lead my way. I don't know how to lead a standard way or the Hokie way."
Twenty seniors will play their final game at Lane Stadium tomorrow, against Miami. Not one is more brash, more outspoken, more unapologetic, more sure of his way than Ellis. His attitude has, at times, earned him an unfavorable reputation among Tech's coaches, but Chris Ellis is intent on remaining Chris Ellis.
"It's not that I don't want to change, because I plan on changing," he said. "I plan on changing my bank account. I plan on changing my location, living somewhere I've never been. But as far as changing my integrity or anything like that, I'm the same person every day."
He wears a black T-shirt that reads: "I [heart symbol] MY MONEY" in giant white letters, to keep him motivated. (He bought it for $10.) He watches "MTV Cribs" at home in Hampton, marvels at the celebrity homes and says, "One day." He admits he would have left early and chased NFL riches after last season if a shoulder injury hadn't slowed him. Now, he's planning to soon return to his birthplace, Hawaii, for the Pro Bowl.
He has to get the last word in every debate, teammates said. Sometimes, his mouth gets him in trouble, like the night last fall when Blacksburg police arrested him because he wouldn't stop bothering them as they arrested Morgan for disorderly conduct. Other times, his take-charge personality leads him around the locker room, insisting teammates sign the pictures kids send for autographs.
He describes himself thusly: "Just a brutally honest guy. Personally, I think I'm one of the coolest guys you'd ever want to meet."
Ellis was a restless child, a sleep-walker. In the mornings, his parents found him in his closet or between his bed and the wall. They locked the doors before bed so he couldn't wander too far. He had attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder and took medicine for it from second to sixth grade. At daycare, he broke out of the playpen and stepped on other kids' fingers.
He hated failure. As a 6-year-old, he kicked a soccer ball in the front yard with his dad, Eric. When Eric kicked the ball past him too often, he sulked on the curb or ran into the house, crying. Eric told him he had to accept losing just like winning. "He could just never do that," Eric said. In high school, he argued with a teacher about his report card and convinced her to check her grade book, which showed he should have received a B instead of a C.
Ellis' strong will comes from his mother, Laurie. "The maverick of my family," she calls herself. She's the only one who left Rothschild, her family's tiny hometown in northern Wisconsin.
She joined the Navy. She got married at Pearl Harbor to a black man, something she said her family struggled with at first. Most of her family didn't meet Eric until they arrived in lily-white Rothschild with their infant son, Christopher James. "Quite the shocker," she said.
Christopher Laurie hates the nickname Chris would grow up and raise some eyebrows, too. Like the time he wouldn't stop wrestling with Laurie and jumped on her back as she walked into the kitchen. She flung him off, and his butt went through the wall.
Or when he arrived at Tech and, as Ellis said, almost immediately butted heads with Beamer. They had one five-minute meeting after another in Beamer's office for missing class, or not turning in his equipment bag after a game, or a personal foul. Morgan said the coaches also didn't like that Ellis lived with cornerback Jimmy Williams, who had a reputation for being cocksure to a fault.
"A lot of the coaches thought [Ellis] was a bad seed and thought he would rub off on a lot of people," said senior left tackle Duane Brown, who lived with Ellis as a freshman.
Ellis always remained silent in those short meetings with Beamer. Until this preseason. Beamer called him to his office for an indiscretion Ellis can't recall. Ellis spoke up, and the two talked for 30 minutes. Ellis won't divulge the details, but he said he explained his personality and how Beamer may have misunderstood it.
"Once we both got that off our chest, I feel like we have a better understanding of each other," Ellis said. "That's not necessarily to say that we're friends now or we're buddy-buddy, but that respect is there."
Ellis said Beamer hasn't summoned him for meetings this season. Free safety D.J. Parker, Ellis' roommate and friend since middle school, said Ellis now thinks before he speaks, or least more often than he used to. But his football skills haven't changed. He leads the Hokies with 6½ sacks. His speed could turn him into an NFL outside linebacker, said NFL Network draft analyst Mike Mayock.
As Ellis' NFL dream nears, his mom reminds him that he doesn't need to buy more than one car, that a nice apartment is more practical than a flashy house. But Ellis longs to look as cool as he feels. He pulled out his cell phone earlier this week. It appeared as though a dog had chewed it. Ellis examined it and shook his head. One more thing to change for a man who never will.
Ellis' way: loud and clear
Hokies' standout end lives by one set of rules -- his own
Friday, Nov 16, 2007 - 12:06 AM
By DARRYL SLATER
TIMES-DISPATCH STAFF WRITER
BLACKSBURG Virginia Tech's players knelt in a circle around coach Frank Beamer one day last season and listened to his pre-practice spiel about how much of a challenge that Saturday's opponent, Miami, would pose with its tough offensive line. As Beamer finished talking, defensive end Chris Ellis stood up. Heads turned.
"You've got great defensive ends, and we've got a great team here," teammate Josh Morgan recalled Ellis saying. "So we're going to go down to Miami and whip their [butt]."
A few eyes widened. A few more jaws dropped. Then everyone cheered and huddled together.
Tech's coaches have long encouraged Ellis to be a leader, but he told them, "I only know how to lead my way. I don't know how to lead a standard way or the Hokie way."
Twenty seniors will play their final game at Lane Stadium tomorrow, against Miami. Not one is more brash, more outspoken, more unapologetic, more sure of his way than Ellis. His attitude has, at times, earned him an unfavorable reputation among Tech's coaches, but Chris Ellis is intent on remaining Chris Ellis.
"It's not that I don't want to change, because I plan on changing," he said. "I plan on changing my bank account. I plan on changing my location, living somewhere I've never been. But as far as changing my integrity or anything like that, I'm the same person every day."
He wears a black T-shirt that reads: "I [heart symbol] MY MONEY" in giant white letters, to keep him motivated. (He bought it for $10.) He watches "MTV Cribs" at home in Hampton, marvels at the celebrity homes and says, "One day." He admits he would have left early and chased NFL riches after last season if a shoulder injury hadn't slowed him. Now, he's planning to soon return to his birthplace, Hawaii, for the Pro Bowl.
He has to get the last word in every debate, teammates said. Sometimes, his mouth gets him in trouble, like the night last fall when Blacksburg police arrested him because he wouldn't stop bothering them as they arrested Morgan for disorderly conduct. Other times, his take-charge personality leads him around the locker room, insisting teammates sign the pictures kids send for autographs.
He describes himself thusly: "Just a brutally honest guy. Personally, I think I'm one of the coolest guys you'd ever want to meet."
Ellis was a restless child, a sleep-walker. In the mornings, his parents found him in his closet or between his bed and the wall. They locked the doors before bed so he couldn't wander too far. He had attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder and took medicine for it from second to sixth grade. At daycare, he broke out of the playpen and stepped on other kids' fingers.
He hated failure. As a 6-year-old, he kicked a soccer ball in the front yard with his dad, Eric. When Eric kicked the ball past him too often, he sulked on the curb or ran into the house, crying. Eric told him he had to accept losing just like winning. "He could just never do that," Eric said. In high school, he argued with a teacher about his report card and convinced her to check her grade book, which showed he should have received a B instead of a C.
Ellis' strong will comes from his mother, Laurie. "The maverick of my family," she calls herself. She's the only one who left Rothschild, her family's tiny hometown in northern Wisconsin.
She joined the Navy. She got married at Pearl Harbor to a black man, something she said her family struggled with at first. Most of her family didn't meet Eric until they arrived in lily-white Rothschild with their infant son, Christopher James. "Quite the shocker," she said.
Christopher Laurie hates the nickname Chris would grow up and raise some eyebrows, too. Like the time he wouldn't stop wrestling with Laurie and jumped on her back as she walked into the kitchen. She flung him off, and his butt went through the wall.
Or when he arrived at Tech and, as Ellis said, almost immediately butted heads with Beamer. They had one five-minute meeting after another in Beamer's office for missing class, or not turning in his equipment bag after a game, or a personal foul. Morgan said the coaches also didn't like that Ellis lived with cornerback Jimmy Williams, who had a reputation for being cocksure to a fault.
"A lot of the coaches thought [Ellis] was a bad seed and thought he would rub off on a lot of people," said senior left tackle Duane Brown, who lived with Ellis as a freshman.
Ellis always remained silent in those short meetings with Beamer. Until this preseason. Beamer called him to his office for an indiscretion Ellis can't recall. Ellis spoke up, and the two talked for 30 minutes. Ellis won't divulge the details, but he said he explained his personality and how Beamer may have misunderstood it.
"Once we both got that off our chest, I feel like we have a better understanding of each other," Ellis said. "That's not necessarily to say that we're friends now or we're buddy-buddy, but that respect is there."
Ellis said Beamer hasn't summoned him for meetings this season. Free safety D.J. Parker, Ellis' roommate and friend since middle school, said Ellis now thinks before he speaks, or least more often than he used to. But his football skills haven't changed. He leads the Hokies with 6½ sacks. His speed could turn him into an NFL outside linebacker, said NFL Network draft analyst Mike Mayock.
As Ellis' NFL dream nears, his mom reminds him that he doesn't need to buy more than one car, that a nice apartment is more practical than a flashy house. But Ellis longs to look as cool as he feels. He pulled out his cell phone earlier this week. It appeared as though a dog had chewed it. Ellis examined it and shook his head. One more thing to change for a man who never will.
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