FOXBOROUGH — For the past two weeks, James Harrison has been the living embodiment of a plot twist.
The former Steelers great, cut in the twilight of his career, then signing with the archrival Patriots, contributing immediately and setting up a potential revenge game for the right to go to the Super Bowl.
The narrative arc is perfect. Harrison couldn’t care less.
“I don’t need people to know anything about me,’’ he said. “You’re not going to get this, ‘I was 2 and I was dreaming of being a professional.’ That’s BS.’’
The way Harrison tells it, he plays football because he likes to and because it pays well. He’d like to continue playing as long as possible, for much the same reasons. The Steelers weren’t going to let him play or continue to pay him, so he found a place that would. That he spent all but one year of his 15 in professional football with the same organization, then uprooted himself in December, is just part of a business about which he is unsentimental, even after he’s earned two rings, tens of millions of dollars, and the adulation of a city and a fan base by succeeding in it.
Part of that is by design, because money and adulation can’t drive him as far as remembering all the slights that came before. That he went undrafted in 2002 out of Kent State, that he was signed by the Steelers only to be cut multiple times and stashed on the practice squad, that he was considered too short and too small to play in the NFL seem far fresher memories than his Super Bowl rings or 2008 Defensive Player of the Year award or any of his five Pro Bowls.
“I love to try and prove people wrong. No question about it,’’ Harrison said. “But at some point they’re going to be right. You can’t play this game forever. But as long as I’m playing this game and I feel like I can play this game, I’m going to try and prove all those people wrong.’’
Proving people wrong gets Harrison up and in the gym early every morning. It has him playing one of the most physical positions in football at 39, older than every non-specialist in the league not named Tom Brady. It has him living out of a suitcase and responding to the criticism of former teammates when he could have retired, likely with a lot less effort and a lot less drama.
“I’m going to do as coach [Dick] LeBeau told me a long time ago,’’ Harrison said. “He said, ‘I want you to pray as if everything depends on God, but I want you to prepare yourself as if everything depends on you.’ And with those two things you can’t go wrong.’’
Harrison adores LeBeau, the former Steelers defensive coordinator. He counts Keith Butler, who took over for LeBeau in 2015 and was Harrison’s position coach before then, as another mentor. He was close enough with Troy Polamalu, Ike Taylor, and Brett Keisel that he agreed to return to the Steelers in 2014 after he’d announced his retirement following his lone year away from the Steelers with the Bengals, upon their request.
All that history in Pittsburgh wasn’t going to make him sit quietly while the Steelers didn’t play him, though, and after he’d asked for his release multiple times over the course of the season. When the team eventually did cut him, Harrison made a business decision by signing with the Patriots, just like the Steelers had any of the multiple times they’d released him.
“I’ve been cut like seven, eight times,’’ Harrison said. “Cats be like ‘What do you do when you get cut?’ Some cats get cut and they’re all distraught: ‘What can I do?’ Like, the first time Bill Cowher ever cut me he was like, ‘Hey, I’m going to release you, da da da da da,’ I’m like, ‘All right.’ I go to walk out and he’s like, ‘You ain’t got no questions?’ I’m like, ‘Nah. It’s not going to change your mind. You’re cutting me. Thank you for the opportunity, I appreciate it. What am I supposed to do, sit here and give you a sob story? You made your decision already.’ ’’
As a way of holding his future in his own hands, Harrison became devoted to his exercise routine and copious amounts of body work that have kept him healthy and productive. He started dedicating himself to doing extra workouts when he became a starter in 2007, also the first year he made the Pro Bowl. His Instagram account is full of videos showing his monstrous feats of strength: 1,800-pound sled pushes, 700-plus-pound hip thrusts, 500-plus-pound squats.
Monday is legs, as Harrison said after he tallied two sacks and five combined tackles playing 27 snaps on defense and seven more on special teams against the Jets in Week 17. Tuesday is chest and back, Wednesday is core, and Thursday is shoulders. Friday is “bis and tris,’’ Harrison said of biceps of triceps, a few circular bruises the size of doorknobs, the product of cupping therapy (which helps blood flow), dotting one of his massive shoulders. He also gets regular chiropractic work, massages, and acupuncture.
“Once I get done playing I’m not going to be able to take care of my body like that, it’s going to be impossible,’’ Harrison said. “And plus, there would be no need to. My body won’t be breaking down. I won’t have to do so much to try to keep it in tip-top shape. I’ll no longer be in an Indy car race, I’ll be in a normal, a Ford Focus. Fuel-efficient car.’’
Harrison has invested in property and has real estate as one source of income for when his playing days are over. He thinks he’ll open a gym, too, as another business and to have a place to work out to his own specifications. As a child, and all the way through college, Harrison thought he’d become a veterinarian, but he’ll probably stick to hanging out with his pit bulls, Storm and Mr. Wayne, and spending time with his two sons.
“Animals and kids,’’ Harrison said. “They don’t have filters. Animals and kids. You can’t trust adults. They have filters, they have reasons, they have meanings behind what they’re doing. Kid? You don’t know no better. Animal? Don’t know no better. They either like you or they don’t.’’
Adults are the people who run football teams and, in large part, the people who root for them. Harrison says he doesn’t care about legacy or how he’s remembered once his playing days are over because people will choose to think what they want, and he can’t control that.
He has his friends, his family, and his place in the record books.
“Numbers are numbers,’’ Harrison said. “You can’t change those.’’
Right now, the numbers that loom the largest are 39 and 3: Harrison’s age and the number of games the Patriots would need to win to hoist a sixth Lombardi Trophy, tying the Steelers’ record.
What a perfect ending that would be. Not that Harrison would care about that.
Nora Princiotti can be reached at nora.princiotti@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter at @NoraPrinciotti.
