Written by Jenny Vrentras at SI.com
ADRIAN PETERSON hasn’t had to make a first impression in a locker room in a decade, rare in a business where rosters shift as often as a running back making cuts across the field. But the 11,747 yards he gained in 10 years with the Vikings are far from the only reason the Saints speak of him with awe.
They try to keep up with the 32-year-old Peterson in wind sprints after practice in the oppressive Louisiana heat. They watch as he does one-legged, 48-inch box jumps onto his right knee with cartilage that was repaired less than a year ago. His new coach, Sean Payton, describes Peterson as having a certain “temperament” to his running style, the very same one anyone who’s watched the NFL in the last 10 years can recognize—upright and powerful and aggressive, with his knees high and churning.
“There’s something about getting a do-over,” Peterson says. “Starting over. That right there is kind of refreshing. It revives you.”
Peterson in New Orleans, and Marshawn Lynch in Oakland, are on the same mission: As running backs with more than 2,000 NFL carries each to their names, they’re trying to prove—with new teams—that their best days aren’t behind them. In February, Minnesota declined an $18 million contract option to keep Peterson; Lynch, 31, is making his return after a yearlong retirement from the Seahawks. Raiders coach Jack Del Rio commemorated his comeback by tweeting a practice video of Lynch juking the entire Oakland defense.
For all the optimism surrounding both running backs’ rebirths, history offers a cloudier prognosis. For every Marcus Allen, who kept his career going until 37 with a successful five-year, post-Raiders stint in Kansas City, there is a parade of Hall of Fame running backs who had brief and forgettable final acts: Emmitt Smith’s two seasons with the Cardinals, Tony Dorsett’s year with the Broncos, Thurman Thomas’s year with the Dolphins, Franco Harris’s eight games with the Seahawks, Eric Dickerson’s four games with the Falcons. O.J. Simpson was traded to San Francisco—for the hefty price of five draft choices—long after his juice was gone.
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