Mathis: 'I look at my baby's face and I have no regrets'

ANDERSON — From the moment Robert Mathis learned he had tested for Clomid, a masking agent for performance-enhancing drugs, he knew what they'd be saying about him:

He's a cheater, another in a long line of cheaters. This is the reason he went from eight to 19½sacks at his age. He's using the Manny Ramirez fertility defense to cover up the harsh truth of his steroid use.

He knew what they'd be saying, knew he would be suspended by the NFL for four games, knew how his reputation would be besmirched as he sat on his bathtub at home and cradled his head in his hands.

But now, he looks at his newborn daughter, Brielle, looks at that perfect little face, and the pain of the biggest misstep of his otherwise spotless career fades, along with the anger. This is why he took the Clomid, which, while it's not FDA approved for fertility, is routinely used by doctors to help induce a pregnancy for couples who have had reproduction difficulties. To have that little girl, who already has him twisted around her tiny fingers.

"I apologized for the professional side of it but from a personal side, I have no regrets at all," Mathis said Wednesday at training camp. "I look at my baby's face in my phone every day, and I have no regrets."

A moment of honesty: While I've always believed Mathis to be a man of great integrity, I had my doubts initially. Maybe that's a function of having been in the sports writing business so long, a cynicism borne of having been lied to by so many athletes, including Marion Jones and Lance Armstrong. It's always safer to believe the worst, so you won't look like a dope when it turns out your worst instincts were correct.

Well.

I believe him.

I believe he wanted to gift his sickly mother with a granddaughter to go with his twin sons.

I believe his heart was pure when he took the fertility drug in order to grow his family.

Cynics are fine to believe otherwise. It's normally my default approach to these issues. But having been around Mathis for so many years, knowing how much he has overcome as an undersized defensive end and now linebacker, having looked into his eyes when he's spoken about the issue, I believe him. If that makes me a hopeless dupe, so be it.

But yes, he screwed up in an almost unfathomable way. How does a long-time player who is as intelligent as Mathis fail to simply Google "Clomid and NFL" and learn almost immediately it's a banned drug? How does a man with his wisdom fail to seek counsel from the NFL and use its voluminous resources to learn that it's a masking agent that is not accepted by the league?

As he sat on his bathtub the day he learned he'd tested positive and would be suspended the first four games of the 2014, Mathis couldn't help but ask himself the question we've all asked: How could you have been so foolish to fail to check on this drug?

"I did (wonder how I could fail to check with the NFL)," Mathis said. "To be honest, I did. I guess all I had to do was call the right person. I didn't. So take your lumps, Robert."

At the time of the positive test and the eventual suspension, Mathis was despondent. He's built a potential Hall of Fame career, and he's done it the right way by most accounts. But now, he was contemplating the fact that he would forever be viewed differently.

"It did blow me away," he said of hearing about the positive test and the eventual suspension. "My wife will tell you, I sat on my tub and just put my head in my hands and thought, 'What am I going to do?' Because for years and years, I've been climbing the mountain, climbing the mountain, proving myself, but now it's like a lot of people will say, 'Well, that's the reason (for having a career-best year).' What people don't see is what you put into it, the heart, the blood, sweat and tears, what you put into the craft.

"It took a lot of her telling me, 'Look, the baby is going to be OK, it happened for a reason.' And that's what made me feel good.

"It was (troubling) but not now because my baby (Brielle) got here July 19 and all of it went away in the atmosphere. It all went away. She looks at me and she sees no wrong. She doesn't know how she got here, she doesn't care how she got here; she just knows she's here and then 'feed me.' That's going to be my job for the next 18 years or however long it takes. Football will be long gone and she'll still be here."

If Mathis' transparency regarding his family's fertility issues was a ruse, let's just say, it was an elaborate ruse, one that also included his fertility specialist. Mathis didn't try to hide when the word came down; he shared his and his wife's medical information with a public that didn't have an inalienable right to know. He tested dirty, but came clean on what happened and why.

"Because I know how people are going to react, what they're going to say, especially coming off a season like last year," he said. "It's human nature. So I opened my medical records and let them see it. I opened my wife's and they've seen it all. I can only control what I can. I did what I had to do."

The NFL should not be criticized for suspending Mathis for four games. The drug policy, which is collective bargained, is etched on stone tablets. Clomid is a masking agent taken by steroid users. Yes, it seems unfair that Ray Rice got two games for domestic violence while Mathis got four for wanting to impregnate his wife, an issue Mathis refused to address the other day. But the Rice suspension fell under the personal conduct heading — much like the Jim Irsay issue — and it's up to Roger Goodell to act in any arbitrary way he chooses. With drugs, whether it's a party drug or a performance-enhancing drug, the guidelines are clear and immutable.

Mathis remains terribly sorry he let his team down. He remains sorry that he failed to check with the proper people when it came to using Clomid. He's not sorry, though, that the drug may have played a role in creating Brielle Mathis. Ask yourself, "Would you trade four games and four paychecks for a baby girl?" Make that calculation.

"The timing was wrong," Mathis said. "I cost my team on a professional level. On a personal level, though, I have a lifetime worth of smiles. God works in mysterious ways."

For all the questions about his increased production last year — and a lot of it had to do with his move from the SAM to rush linebacker — Mathis had been emboldened by the support he's received, much of it local. Even after the suspension, he's continued to engage readers on Twitter, continued to answer his cell phone.

"When you (block people out), you also block out the people supporting you," he said. "I can't say how good and reassuring it's been, the support that I've gotten, and I'm still getting it. It's overwhelming. Going through this, it makes me feel better about giving up my knees, giving up my shoulders, all the surgeries, all the things you have to sacrifice body wise for this game. I don't regret a day of it."

Mathis knows there will be doubters, and there will be doubts. That's completely understandable, especially in this day and age. But when he sees his baby's face on his phone, and sees her in person when he gets back from Anderson, all the hurt and the pain will magically fade away, and it won't matter what anybody else thinks.

Bob Kravitz is a columnist for The Indianapolis Star, a Gannett company.