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This is Warrick Dunn in college. We never really believed he was as little as he looked.

We saw Warrick Dunn at Eats in Midtown Atlanta once. Eats is the kind of place that serves four things, charges somewhere between five and eight dollars for all of it, and serves their beverages in old red Pizza Hut tumblers. Glamorous, it is not.

It took a second to recognize him, but not from the face: same aquiline nose, big eyes, close-cropped hair and neatly trimmed goatee. He has an unmistakable face that we're unafraid to say is nigh-man-pretty. It was his physique that didn't jibe. An NFL player should have been bigger than he was, if not in height--he came up to my eyebrows, and I'm 5'11"--but in weight, with some sort of Barry Sanders bulge to his legs and shoulders, at least.

Yet, waiting in line at Eats, the dude looked no bigger than a UPS guy, a pocket-sized person in a baggy sweater and jeans. The idea that he blocked the John Randles of the world and took direct shots from NFL linebackers without dying still stuns the mind.

Warrick Dunn actually visited the man who confessed to killing his mother in prison. Here's an excerpt.

As I looked at this man who I never met, I bared my soul to him. I told him how in the years after my mom’s death I had been hesitant about being in a committed relationship, how I’ve been afraid to lose people. I’ve been in counseling for many years over this very concept of having a true committed relationship because I don’t want to lose somebody I love twice in my life. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I could suffer that pain again.

When you're made of steel, size is irrelevant. Read the rest here. It's dusty in here.