PITTSFORD — Percy Harvin is at peace. Not disgruntled, not in a coach’s ear. Moments after this Buffalo Bills practice ends, the wide receiver sprawls out on the Growney Stadium turf with his girlfriend and son in a state of liberation.
The 85-degree heat beats down on the three of them. Few words are spoken. Harvin spots a visitor, coolly saunters over to the nearby metal fence and extends a hand.
Training camp, this summer, feels different.
“Man, it feels so great to come out here and just let it loose,” Harvin said. “At other places, I felt like every day I had to walk on eggshells and look over my back to see who’s watching me. Here, the guys let me be me.”
His mind traces back those practices 2,600 miles away in Seattle when Harvin played for the Seahawks. The jealousy. The cold glares. When Doug Baldwin and Golden Tate weren’t getting the ball in practice, Harvin said they’d protest. They’d pout on the sideline or switch up their positions in the offense from “X” receiver to “Z,” to “F,” to whoever could get the ball on that play.
To Harvin, the two felt threatened.
“It was a constant thing,” Harvin said. “It was something that got under my skin. I felt like they were acting like kids.”
Fights with both players ensued and Harvin’s reputation was tarnished. The kid who was once the No. 1 prospect in the nation out of Virginia Beach, Va., who went No. 22 overall to the Minnesota Vikings in 2009, who revs from 0 to 60 faster than anyone — at receiver, at running back, at returner — is now known first as a malignant chemistry-killer. The Great Divider. The “Most Hated Player” in the NFL, per Sports Illustrated.
Options low, Harvin signed a one-year, $6 million pact in Buffalo.
Saint Rex has granted second chances to several outcasts, but no player is more perplexing than Harvin. Cancer or competitor? Soft or soldier? Friend or foe? You’ve read all the Harvin headlines.
As his son squeals and stuffs rocks in a Gatorade bottle behind, Harvin stares ahead.
“I want this to be the year,” Harvin said, “I look and say, ‘Year Seven was the turning point. That’s when I put it all together.’ ”
His case is not merely black and white, rather years of gray up for interpretation. Figuring out the real Percy Harvin is one complicated case.
He hopes to debunk each red flag as myth.
He divides a locker room
This is the one that pains Harvin most. By now, the world knows he fought Golden Tate the week before Super Bowl XLVIII. One report said he body-slammed Tate, many others that he gave him a black eye.
The following August, Harvin and Baldwin went at it with Baldwin suffering a gash on his chin.
Two fights. One common denominator.
Here today, Harvin explains how the blow-ups were months in the making. First, he claims both players viewed him “as a threat, rather than a teammate.” He talked to coaches. He talked to Tate and Baldwin. Harvin vows he tried to make it work, even as both lobbied for the ball.
Yet leading up to the Super Bowl, privately and publicly, Harvin couldn’t fathom what he heard.
“We all played the same position. So me coming in took reps from them,” Harvin said. “They wanted to show they were already established having made it to the NFC Championship the year before I got there. So they kind of had the approach of, ‘We don’t need anybody else. We’re established.’ ”
A sense of insecurity? “Exactly, exactly,” he repeats.
The undrafted Baldwin was the unofficial spokesman for this agitated, overlooked band of receivers who reached this game on grit, not genetics. All week, they were scrutinized. Hall-of-Famer Cris Carter, for one, called them “appetizers.” And as this media storyline dragged on, Harvin listened to all “We don’t really need Percy”-themed comments.
“I said, ‘I understand the message you’re trying to get out but I’m your teammate. If you don’t want to talk about me at all, just say ‘Hey, we’re a great offense. We’re glad to have him back,’ ” Harvin said. “But every time, it seemed like they were hell-bent on saying, ‘We’re going to be this, whether he’s here or not.’ And it just kind of started rubbing me wrong because those guys, I felt, were my teammates, my brothers.
“I was like, ‘Whoa, buddy, I’m your teammate! Let’s get it together and let’s go out there and kill people. If you all were already doing this, imagine what we could do with me in there!’ But I just kept getting, ‘If he comes back, he comes back. If not, we’re good without him.’ Finally, I wanted to say something.”
Harvin won’t relive the details but ex-teammate Michael Robinson later admitted that he needed to break up a fight between Harvin and Tate.
In retrospect, Harvin wishes he would’ve kept his irritation “on the back shelf” instead of trying to force a relationship that’d never exist. However, the next summer — before the preseason finale — Harvin and Baldwin fought.
In the middle of this dispute, Harvin actually tried walking away.
“Everybody calls him, ‘Tough Doug’ or ‘Angry Doug,’” Harvin said. “That was one of the times, he tried to use me to show he was a tough guy. I tried to walk away and he came back. It got messy. And I think what happened was the best for me.”
Baldwin did not return a voicemail seeking comment.
As for the report of players saying quarterback Russell Wilson “wasn’t black enough?” “To this day, I don’t even know what that means. I just shook my head.”
Tensions lingered. Seattle struggled. Harvin was traded to the New York Jets on Oct. 18. Coincidence or not, the subtraction turned the Seahawks’ season around, as they won 9 of their last 10 games and were one historically bad play call away from winning another Super Bowl.
These days, Harvin still talks to Bruce Irvin — their sons were born one day apart — and most of the Seattle defensive line. He’ll text receiver Jermaine Kearse. He’ll call Marshawn Lynch. He’s tight with Ricardo Lockette.
He has not spoken to Baldwin or Tate.