Cleveland Browns' Earl Little inspired by his fallen friend

by Mary Kay Cabot

Sunday May 18, 2008, 1:55 PM

Browns safety Earl Little walked out onto the practice field for the start of another season and his thoughts -- as always -- turned to his lifelong best friend, Marlin Barnes.

Oh, if Barnes could see him now.

Not only was Little playing in the NFL -- just like they had always dreamed of doing together - but now he was being coached by Butch Davis and Chuck Pagano, their head coach and secondary coach at the University of Miami.

The only thing missing, of course, was Barnes.

But deep down inside, Little knew Barnes was right there with him. In fact, Barnes was probably orchestrating this whole thing from above. Yes, he probably brought Davis all the way up from Miami just to bring a little joy into Little's life, make some of the pain go away.

The two boys had been as close as twins since they were 8. They grew up together in the projects of Miami's crime-ridden Liberty City and were inseparable. They played football together in the streets, in the Pop Warner league, in high school and in college. Through it all, they had dodged real bullets and managed to stay out of trouble.

In fact, the night before Barnes died, Little had told him the only thing that could separate them was God taking one of them.

He never meant to be so right.

The next morning, on April 13, 1996, Little returned to the campus apartment he shared with Barnes only to find him clinging to his last seconds of life.

The moment he walked up, he knew something was wrong. His truck was leaning suspiciously to the right; his tires had been slashed.

When he put his key in the door, it was already unlocked.

But it wouldn't budge.

He poked his head inside just enough to see Barnes' body slumped against the door, swimming in a sea of red.

Was it some kind of joke? Suddenly, Little's heart began to race and he started calling Barnes' name.

"He turned his head a little to try to look at me and he had no face," recalled Little. "It was so badly beaten that I can hardly describe it. It was just smashed-up teeth and bones and blood."

Fearing that the perpetrator was still inside, Little jumped from the third-floor balcony, sprinted back to his friend's house and banged on the door.

"I was hysterical," he said. "I said, 'Call the cops, I think someone killed Marlin!' "

Minutes later, when Little returned to his apartment, he heard a campus policeman saying into his walkie-talkie, "We have a homicide."

Little crumbled right there on the staircase.

But soon, he heard detectives saying there was another body. "They brought a girl downstairs, but when they showed her to me, I was in such shock that I couldn't bring out her name at first," Little said.

It was Timwanika Lumpkins, a 22-year-old woman that he and Barnes had known since high school. She died while being transported to the hospital by helicopter.

Soon Little found himself cradling Barnes' wailing mother, Charlie Mae Postell, who was like a second mom to him. He even lived with Barnes' family for a while as a kid.

"Seeing Charlie Mae like that was devastating to me," said Little.

Within weeks, Lumpkins' ex-boyfriend, Labrant Dennis -- the father of her daughter -- was charged with the double homicide. He's currently on Florida's death row, awaiting the electric chair.

Six days after the murders, Little delivered a 30-minute eulogy that had 600 mourners alternately crying and laughing. He managed to do what the five players and coaches who stood up before him could not -- finish his remarks without breaking down.

"I was trying to be so strong for everyone else," he said.

Several weeks later, he was scheduled to fly to Detroit to get away from it all, but canceled at the last minute. The first leg turned out to be ValuJet Flight 592, which crashed on May 11, 1996, killing 110 people, including Miami Hurricanes teammate Robert Woodus.

"It shook me even more," he said.

Little skipped school the rest of that year, stayed with a friend and spent every night with Barnes' mother. But he kept in touch with Davis and Pagano.

"The day Marlin died, coach Davis told me he loved me," said Little.

Pagano invited Little and his two young daughters and girlfriend to spend time with his family in the off-season in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

"Earl knew he couldn't just shut it down," said Pagano. "He had his family to take care of, and football was his means of doing that. That and his strong religious faith is what got him through it."

Little worked out harder than ever that summer in preparation for his senior year. "I knew Marlin wouldn't want me to quit," he said.

But during the 1997 season opener, he was overcome by grief. After the game, he sat sobbing on the bench, and a teammate had to walk him into the locker room.

There, he sat crying in front of his stall while the music blared and the players hooted and hollered.

A reporter, Dan LeBatard from the Miami Herald, asked Little why he was crying and he said, "There's no joy in here for me." He told of how not seeing Barnes on the field for the first time in his life was too much to bear.

A couple of weeks later, a national television reporter picked up on it, but quoted Little as saying "there's no joy in life for me."

"He made it sound like I was suicidal," said Little. "I would never even think of that. I have my girls to take care of."

Little, who had switched from safety to cornerback as a junior to help the team, dedicated his senior year to Barnes and had a great season. Wearing a T-shirt with Barnes' smiling face on it under his jersey, he never gave up a TD pass that year.

Draft experts projected him to go anywhere from the second to fourth round.

But draft day came and went without a phone call.

"It was second-worst day of my life after Marlin dying," said Little.

Even Pagano was shocked.

"He certainly had the talent to play in the NFL," he said.

But teams were scared off by his frame of mind, Little said.

"They questioned me about it at the scouting combine and I said I was fine, but I think they thought I was hiding something," he said. That, and running a 4.6 in the 40 -- slow for a cornerback but OK for a safety -- hurt his status.

Finally, the Dolphins - coached by ex-Hurricanes coach Jimmy Johnson - signed him as an undrafted free agent. Despite a fine preseason, he was released in the final cuts and cried like a baby. He was re-signed to the practice squad, but let go four days later.

He caught on with the Saints, but spent the entire 1997 season on the practice squad. The next season, he made the roster, but played only on special teams. In 1999, he was released in October and signed with the Browns.

"The first year here went well," said Little, who played safety in the nickel and dime and on special teams.

The highlight was the victory over his former team, the Saints, on Tim Couch's Hail Mary pass.

"It was so exciting," he said.

But last season, things went downhill. After one game against Pittsburgh, Palmer fined him $610 for a 12-men-on-the-field penalty that occurred during a surprise no-huddle attack. "I had made five great tackles during that game and I thought he was calling me into his office to tell me I was starting."

Despite more outstanding games, Little never got the nod over strong safety Marquis Smith, the 1999 third-round pick. "Palmer made it clear he didn't like me," Little said.

Little swears it dates back to the 1999 victory in Pittsburgh when he told reporters he was the one who told Phil Dawson to get out on the field to kick the game-winning field goal as time ran out.

Palmer chewed out Little the next day for making him look bad. "I said, 'C'mon man, if it wasn't for me, we would've lost the game.' "

Little was convinced that if Palmer was back this season, he wouldn't be.

Then came Palmer's firing and the subsequent hiring of Davis.

Before long, Davis was singing Little's praises during his opening news conference.

Yesterday, Davis gave Little kudos for two interceptions on Saturday and for his fast start at camp.

"He's just an excellent football player," Davis said.

And now he's got a chance to compete for a starting job again.

"Just like Marlin would want it," Little said.