Beastly Bears center Kreutz isn't someone to toy with

MIAMI -- Olin Kreutz doesn't seem all that tough. He's sitting at a podium at Super Bowl XLI Media Day, and he's being downright malleable. Want him to pose for a picture? He'll pose. Want him to say a promo for the listeners in Hawaii? He'll say it.

This is the Chicago Bears' tough guy? Him?

Is Olin Kreutz a dirty player? 'I just play hard,' he says. (US Presswire)

And then I see Fred Miller. And I start to realize just how ferocious Olin Kreutz must be.

Kreutz is a Pro Bowl center and a big man at 6-foot-2, 292 pounds, but Fred Miller is massive. Miller is 6-7, 320 pounds. He's one of those cartoon human beings, larger than nature intended.

Olin Kreutz broke Miller's jaw.

Kreutz and Miller were having some fun in November 2005, shooting at an FBI firing range, when the fun took a bad turn. After the shooting, they had some drinks and barbeque. What kind of FBI firing range allows men to drink and eat on the property? Good question. Ask someone else. Me, I'm still trying to figure out how Olin Kreutz beat the crap out of Fred Miller, and did it so thoroughly that it was Miller who ended up apologizing afterward.

Back to the FBI firing range. One of the offensive linemen said something to the other, the argument turned confrontational, and Kreutz broke Miller's jaw and knocked out a tooth. Miller attacked with an object, reportedly a small weight, and sliced Kreutz's head.

Miller, a veteran tackle who had started 110 consecutive games, missed the Bears' next game against San Francisco. Neither player was suspended, though the NFL fined each $50,000 for violating the league's personal conduct policy.

They've been teammates ever since. More than teammates, Miller tells me -- friends. They do stuff together, though he estimates it took roughly eight months for the awkwardness to go away.

"Then I guess a switch flipped on for both of us," Miller said. "We just realized, 'There's no need for this. We both love the game of football, (the fight) was something that happened, but let's move on.' And we have."

Twenty feet away, Kreutz is sitting at the podium. He's not looking at Miller, whose jaw is held in place by a steel plate. Kreutz has moved on, and to hear him tell it, he's not the monster others have made him out to be.

"All that stuff is overrated," he says.