'i Am Not A Dog'

Herschel Walker and his 3-year-old rottweiler, Al Capone, wind their way through the rolling hills and duck ponds in the plush southwestern Minneapolis suburb of Edina. It's an early Tuesday morning, a day off for the Minnesota Vikings but not for Walker, who is on the first of two four-mile conditioning runs. Walker, a 6'2", 212-pound running back who was a sprinter in college, glides effortlessly, prancing on his toes as if he were warming up for a race. He barely breaks a sweat. Capone, loping alongside his owner, is an awkward, beefy 120 pounds, his big butt swishing from side to side, his long tongue dangling out of his mouth.

"Come on, Blockhead," Walker yells to the panting Capone. "You can keep up with me."

Most pro football players relish their days off, taking the few hours to rest their battered and bruised bodies, doing anything to relax—not running eight miles. But Walker has always been different. He needs just five hours of sleep a night and exists on only one meal a day. Instead of lifting weights like most other players, he has a daily regimen of 3,500 sit-ups and 1,500 push-ups. He has never taken an aspirin, and he had his wisdom teeth pulled without using a pain killer. He has never tasted beer or liquor.

"When I'm running, I feel at ease. I'm in my domain," Walker says. "I don't even feel my footsteps touching the ground. It's like I'm running on clouds. When I'm running, I'm at peace."

But Walker has not been running very much on game days this season, and he is not at peace with the Vikings. For the first time in his otherwise illustrious career—from his Heisman Trophy days at Georgia to his brief romp through the now defunct USFL to his stint as a one-man offense with the Dallas Cowboys—Walker is caught in the middle of a football controversy. As the result of an extended period of weak performance, his football skills and his desire to play are being questioned in Minneapolis and around the league. Blame was first assigned to the Vikings for failing to utilize Walker properly in the team's offense. Now blame is being fixed directly on Walker.

"Jumping on the anti-Herschel bandwagon is chic right now—it's the cool thing to do," Walker said last week. "I am not a dog. Al Capone is."

A blockbuster trade on Oct. 12, 1989, sent Walker from the Cowboys to the Vikings in exchange for five players and seven draft choices, including Minnesota's first- and second-round picks from 1990 through '92. He was heralded by Viking president and general manager Mike Lynn, the mastermind of the deal, as the "missing spoke in the wheel," the savior who would lead the Vikings to the promised land. Lynn went so far as to proclaim that the trade would be judged a success only if the Vikings won the Super Bowl. There were high hopes for the team, and the expectations for Walker were off the map.

With Sunday night's 27-22 victory over the Denver Broncos, the Vikings have a 2-6 record. And Walker has hardly been worth the $2.25 million salary he's making in this last year of his five-year contract. In what for Walker has become a typical game, he had 10 carries for 58 yards and four kick returns for a 26.3 average against Denver, with six carries for 36 yards coming when the Vikes were running out the clock. For the season, he has 307 yards in 82 carries, one touchdown rushing and a 23.7-yard average for 23 kickoff returns.

"I feel like I'm more of a burden than a help to this team," Walker says. "This team never needed to trade for me. I'm in a no-win situation."

"Herschel has never been in a slump before," says Viking offensive lineman David Huffman, "and maybe he is folding under the pressure."