Bucs Hall of Famer Drops in on His Bradenton Restaurant

It's just another busy Friday evening at a Bradenton restaurant and sports bar as the dinner crowd begins to file in.

The mild-mannered, middle-aged guy dressed in business casual is going table to table, asking how everyone's doing, how the ribs taste, shaking a few hands here and there. Most recognize him — and why shouldn't they? His name's on the marquee outside, after all.

The place, however, is , 6510 Cortez Rd. W., and replace that gentlemen's glasses and button-down shirt with the creamsicle-colored jersey of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in the 1970s and '80s — like the framed No. 63 of his hanging on the wall above him — and you'll know him as a relentless pass rusher, a Pro Football Hall of Famer and one of the area's greatest sports legends.

Selmon made the rounds Friday at his Bradenton and Sarsasota restaurants — two of the seven he and his partners own in the Tampa Bay area — just to say hi to the staff and patrons. He doesn't make it south of the Sunshine Skyway as much as he'd like, Selmon said, but if he doesn't already know someone's name, he learns it.

"You want your customers to be satisfied, because that's what will keep them coming back," Selmon said. "I really enjoy each time out visiting the different locations and just saying thank you to the management team here and greeting customers as well. It's always a lot of fun."

Many remember him from his playing days with the Bucs, a career that began in 1976 as the team's first-ever draft pick and included six straight Pro Bowl appearances and eventually a nod as the team's only Hall of Famer to date.

Others know him only for his post-football life, which has included a stint as the athletic director at the University of South Florida, and for the restaurants and cross-town expressway in Tampa that bear his name.

Either way, those that meet him often come away impressed.

"He's such a nice guy," said Andrea Pastor of Palmetto, who had heard Selmon would be visiting the area Friday and decided to dine at both the Sarasota and Bradenton locations with her son, Nick, in hopes of meeting him.

Selmon's personality likely stems from his humble roots near Eufaula, Okla., where he grew up on a farm as the youngest of nine siblings. His parents, Lucious and Jessie, always had food on the table — some of his mom's personal recipes inspired the comfort food on the restaurant's menu — but the work was hard. It's evident in the black-and-white pictures hanging on the Bradenton restaurant's wall that show Selmon and his brothers standing in a field behind plows and other farm equipment — the old-fashioned, donkey-powered kind.

"Failure was not an option," Selmon said.

Perhaps that's how he and two of his brothers, Lucious and Dewey, all went on to star together on the defensive line at Oklahoma. Lee Roy and Dewey also were teammates with the Bucs.

"To look down the line of scrimmage and see your two brothers — that was awesome," Selmon said. "We probably didn't realize how special it was at the time, but as we got out and got older, you look back and say, 'That was pretty cool.' "

Selmon said the game hasn't changed all that much since his playing days. The current NFL lockout isn't so different from a player strike he was a part of back in 1982, Selmon said, and even though fans sometimes have a hard time sympathizing with million-dollar athletes, he doesn't fault players for fighting over salaries and benefits because of the health risks that come with an NFL career.

"We realize more and more that these bodies are not designed to go through what they go through, both in practices and in games," Selmon said.

He's already had one back surgery since he hung up his cleats in 1984, and he'll need a hip replaced at some point, too — and he's one of the lucky ones. Selmon said he's seen players from his day confined to walkers and wheelchairs; others suffer memory loss from concussions or get hooked on pain medication.

"(Playing football) has a long-term impact on your life, the reality of which is becoming more and more clear," Selmon said. That's why he stresses to the young players he meets the importance of preparing for life after football.

Still, few things in the restaurant business can compare to the thrill of competition. Selmon said he still has vivid memories of the Bucs' first playoff game against the Philadelphia Eagles in 1979, a magical season for a franchise that until that point had been a laughingstock.

"That was such a special feeling and place," Selmon said. "The stadium was just unbelievable with the electricity that was in there. And we did what was unexpected by winning the game, too."

That '79 team, which made it to the NFC title game, would be recognized by the franchise 30 years later. But the highest honor was reserved for Selmon, who became the first inductee into the team's Ring of Honor.

As Selmon looks back on that day at Raymond James Stadium in 2009, he rattles off the names of his teammates — Doug Williams, Ricky Bell, his brother, Dewey, and on and on — rather than focusing on the individual accolade. It's clear his mentality as a team player helped him find success on the gridiron and beyond.

"Truly, they are the Ring of Honor," Selmon said. "Not me, just those guys, us as a team."