Huskies' E.J. Savannah nurtures a new life and a second chance at football

With a sore right shoulder and a cast on his left hand, E.J. Savannah lifts his newborn son, Edward Thomas Savannah III, and plants a post-practice kiss on the baby's cheek.

He doesn't feel the pain of football anymore. He only feels love, a sense of responsibility and, most of all, gratitude.

Thanks for this new life in his arms. Thanks for a second chance. Thanks for the opportunity to show his maturation.

On the football field, it will be apparent if he remains in good standing with this coaching staff and completes an unlikely comeback after former Washington coach Tyrone Willingham essentially kicked him off the team last season. In life, with little Edward to take care of, the challenges are greater, but the child is ample motivation for Savannah to stay focused.

"It's really made me that much more hungry," the gifted linebacker said. "I could look at him for hours. It's crazy, you know. It's something very special, watching your child being born."

It's so special, apparently, that it masks the aches of his return to football. After sitting out a year, Savannah relishes all the game has to offer, including the broken bone in his left hand.

"This game isn't made for everyone, and I think I'm one of the people that it's made for," said Savannah, who won't miss any games because of the injury. "You've got to pay that price."

He discovered the hard way that injuries are an easy price to pay. What's harder? Try sitting at home watching your team play on television, knowing that you could help and knowing that you let down your teammates. Try pondering what exactly led your old coach to hand down such strict punishment, which remains the mystery of all mysteries.

He couldn't do anything but work out and hope that everything would work out. He never lost faith that he'd have a chance to be a Husky again, but he wasn't certain.

"That's my freedom, out here on the field, and basically it felt like I was locked up last season," said Savannah, who returned to the team after coach Steve Sarkisian took over. "I felt like I was in prison, behind bars, and I was looking through those bars and watching my team."

Last September, Savannah, the Huskies' leading tackler in 2007, announced he would transfer from Washington. Willingham had suspended him indefinitely for academic and other unspecified issues. The linebacker said he never came close to transferring, however.

Savannah still doesn't understand why Willingham was so harsh, but instead of deflecting blame, Savannah admits he shouldn't have put himself in a position to be in the doghouse.

He has maintained the swagger and tough talk that helps make him a good player, but humility accompanies it now. Savannah spent a lot of his time off working with trainer Tim Manson. That's how he stayed in shape, but Manson also deserves some credit for helping Savannah mentally.

And here's the kicker: Manson, 43, was a star runner for Washington State. He won a Pac-10 championship in the 800 meters in 1988. "I'm a bleeding-heart Coug," Manson says, laughing.

But this was bigger than school pride. Manson has known Savannah since he was 16. The trainer had seen the kid's potential as a player and a person. He didn't want a few mistakes to ruin Savannah's athletic career.

"I didn't want to see him destroyed or fall apart," said Manson, who works for Maximum Sports Conditioning in Bellevue, where former Husky Daniel Jahn is the co-owner and director.

Manson trained Savannah two or three times a week during the lost season. His workouts are so intense that it normally takes 48 hours to recover. He specializes in helping athletes move more efficiently, but he's also big on the mental approach to sports and life in general.

"Now E.J. has that awareness of, 'I'm not a boy anymore. I have to have responsibility for myself,' " Manson said. "We talk about how you can be either a jock or an athlete. When a jock loses something like that, they've lost their identity. They put all their hopes into the football bucket, and then when it's gone, they look in the mirror and don't know who they're looking at. An athlete, when he loses something, it doesn't define who he is. An athlete makes adjustments. An athlete overcomes."

Savannah goes by many names now: Athlete. Man. Father. He has some growing left, but maybe he's ready to fulfill his potential.

"They say you don't appreciate things until they're gone," Savannah said. "Football was gone from me for a while. I really appreciate it more now. It's my freedom. It feels good to be back — new and improved."

Jerry Brewer: 206-464-2277 or jbrewer@seattletimes.com, Twitter: @Jerry_Brewer