10:03—While the rest of the Raiders sit to stretch, Romo moves up and down the field with his personal stretching consultant. Some days the guy will stretch Romo for four hours, but today it's got to be quick. As Romo's walking along he'll suddenly kick his tree-trunk leg over his head like a very odd-looking Rockette.
Noon—For lunch, Romo downs mass quantities of food, carefully selected by his nutritionist, be it almond-butter-covered rice cakes or the occasional shark cartilage. Romo may spit loogies in your face—as he did to San Francisco 49ers receiver J.J. Stokes six years ago—but at least you know they're organic.
Across the way 330-pound lineman Frank Middleton is asked if any of Romo's ways have rubbed off on him. "Are you kiddin'?" Middleton says. "Man, I'm fat. I got no muscle. I got nothin' to pull, stretch, hurt or tear."
Meanwhile, a few Raiders are going to a fast-food joint. "I like it when they go there," Romo says. "Maybe that's why I'm still playing. I hope they keep going."
12:40 p.m.—Practice. Even at 37, nobody's engine revs higher than Romo's. His bursts still come straight out of 1988, his rookie year. He still sprints after Jerry Rice to the end zone and back on every play. His eyes are still the size of hubcaps, perhaps because of the CDP choline and pheryl he takes for intensity.
3:30—Most of the other players head home, but Romotron is just getting warmed up. He has another power shake—"phosphorous and colostrum with a nice root beer flavor," he says, beaming. Yummy! That's followed by 45 minutes of weightlifting and then a 45-minute soft-tissue massage.
If this were postgame, though, he'd start an IV of 50 grams of vitamin C and five of glutathione to fight what he calls the "massive amount of stress" he puts on his body. Romo has the pain threshold of an anvil—he once played with a torn oblique muscle, which is like playing with a wolf trap snapped onto your stomach.
Oh, he never missed a game in college, high school, middle school or peewee, either. When's the last time he got sick? "Can't remember," he says.
5:05—More stretching, followed by 40 minutes of hopping from a 40� cold tub to a 110� hot tub. In between Romo glugs water purified by his own portable ionizer. He'll drink two gallons today. "I had to drink bottled water the other day," he says. "Awful."
8:08—More self-electrocution, followed by a full-body coating of zinc and copper cream, then a TV interview, and it's finally time for mad little linebackers to go home. Another easy 13-hour day. As the last one at the complex, he turns out the lights.