The Real Romeo, Part II: 'Perspective game'

He linked up with Terry Robiskie, joined forces with Jordan Love and — like it or not — Romeo Doubs has zero plans to change who he is as a person. Fine by the Green Bay Packers.

Illustration by Brave Buffalo

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Miss Part I? Catch up right here.

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The goal was simple. Push Romeo Doubs to the brink of mental destruction.

Here was Terry Robiskie’s recollection of his conversation with the wide receiver’s mentor, Keyshawn Johnson:

“Kill him if you have to. Make him be the best he can be. Get him ready for the draft, and then get him ready for what's coming after.”

Music to the coach’s ears. This has been his specialty since the 1980s. Before they’d even hit the field, the mind games began. Robiskie would tell Doubs to meet him at one location in Los Angeles and then — two hours prior — switch it up to a different location. Robiskie wanted the kid to be adaptable, to always be ready for What’s next? They might’ve been planning on getting work in at a high school, then… boom. Robiskie tells Doubs to swing over to UCLA’s facility instead.

In the NFL, he told him, you’ve got to be a “lizard” changing colors on that tree.

Doubs didn’t flinch. A good sign.

From there, any given day, “Camp Robiskie” could last five, six, seven hours long.

A sampling:

• Workouts that’d last 2 ½ to three hours.

• X ‘n O talk for an hour-plus.

• Another hour of drills/routes. Perhaps third-down or red-zone work.

• Foot speed drills. Blocking drills. More catching drills. This could last another two hours.

And, always, Robiskie worked in deep conversations on how this whole NFL thing really works.

Never once did Doubs express verbally or in body language that he was tired.

“No matter what I fed him, he never got tired,” Robiskie says. “The more I kept pushing him, the more he kept going. There wasn’t one time I pushed him, he ever pushed back.”

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Occasionally, high school kids would jump into the drill to give Doubs a blow. His quarterback? Jarmaine Doubs Jr. Not every throw’s going to be pristine in the pros. Robiskie saw true value in “ManMan” serving as the all-time QB. Passes were high, low and, no, Romeo would never even think about complaining to his best friend. When Romeo’s mother and sister watched on, Robiskie would point their direction. “Maybe you’re tired, but you see those people over on the sideline? All that shit they’ve been through in their lifetime, they’re tired too,” he told him. “They’re counting on you to help them get a better life.” He recited to Doubs exactly what he told Roddy White, Julio Jones, Kevin Johnson, Tim Brown, James Lofton, all of his receivers over his four decades: “Listen good and do what I tell you and you’ll make more money than you've ever dreamt you could have made in your life.”

This was quickly followed with more advice: Don’t buy a damn Mercedes Benz with that first contract.

When Doubs headed to Carlsbad, Calif., Robiskie made the 100-mile drive south and back 3 to 4 times each week. Whenever Doubs was finished throwing weights around, they’d hit the field for two hours and then return to the hotel for board work. Robiskie drew up X’s and O’s: This is how you beat that coverage. This is how you beat that front.

This old-school coach didn’t put up BS. Doubs learned that much during Senior Bowl Week. Robiskie couldn’t make the trip to Mobile, Ala., but told Jarmaine to record all of Doubs’ 1-on-1 work. That way, he could critique from afar. When the footage was forwarded, he was mortified. Right there on the screen — before a 1-on-1 rep — Doubs reached across the line to shake the defensive back’s hand.

Robiskie lost his mind.

He immediately called Jarmaine.

“Run out there to the fence by the sideline,” Robiskie told him, “and you tell MF’er I said, ‘Don't you ever in your goddamn life shake hands with the enemy across from you!’ You tell that son of a bitch he’s down here to get a job and he’s down here to make money. He ain’t here to make no g--damn friends. If you want to make friends, you should stay in LA and sit up on the corner of Crenshaw. ‘Don’t ever shake a g--damn hand again. Unless it’s you’re first cousin, don’t ever shake a hand again. And don’t let me see it.’”

The message was relayed. That night, Romeo called Robiskie.

He made no excuses. He didn’t shake any more hands that week.

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When he wasn’t running routes for Robiskie, Doubs trained with Roy Holmes Jr. of AMP Performance. A man who had the same first impression as everybody else: “This kid is super, super quiet.” Holmes started calling Doubs “Franklin Saint,” from the TV show Snowfall and was able to crack this hard shell over time. Doubs must trust you before he opens up and that’s a problem for NFL teams. Too many prospects and too little time, Holmes explains, to truly get to know such a unique personality. A few skeptical scouts even grilled him for information, citing the fact that Doubs was so reserved in their interviews. Holmes told them he’s a kid who’ll clock in and work like crazy without saying a word. You’ll hardly know he’s there.

He likens Doubs’ approach to Barry Sanders and Tim Duncan. Too often, he believes, we want to put players into the same box because it makes us feel comfortable.

“That’s the beauty of him,” Holmes says. “He’s different and he’s so humble.”

Doubs got into the habit of saying “1 percent” to Holmes and walking on by. That was his goal. Stack 1 percents over their eight weeks together and see where he lands.

“In the world of NIL, me, me, me, all the stuff like that, he’s completely different,” Holmes says. “He’s not a receiver diva at all. He’s got Mike Evans in him where every year he’s consistently putting up yards, putting up stats, but he’s not one of those guys that gets a lot of the respect because he’s not super flashy. A lot of teams coming out in the draft process were taken back by that: How are you this talented but you don’t really say much?”

At his core, Doubs was ultra-competitive. He’d constantly ask for work — more 40 starts, more bench press. His raw explosion was jarring out of a stance. And, inside the weight room, Holmes describes a “Jim Brown mentality.” The ex-Browns fullback refused to let defenders think they ever hurt him on the field, and that was Doubs. He barely grimaced or grunted at all pushing up weight.

The only times Holmes knew this was a hard workout for Doubs was if the receiver gave him a subtle nod of the head.

“He’s never one of those guys who’s going to drop down to a knee and just be defeated,” says Holmes, “and he was never going to let you know that you were winning.”

Ah, yes. Robiskie has broken receivers before. It’s his thing. Doubs’ stone-cold reaction — to everything — reminded him of another player he worked out in ‘96. On the drive to Tennessee-Chattanooga, tired as hell, miserable, Robiskie decided to work a wide receiver until he literally puked. That was the objective: Breakfast on the field. A funny thing happened, though. As the QB himself, Robiskie threw… and threw… and threw… to the point of his own arm getting sore. He’s the one who needed a water break. Three hours in, this specimen of a receiver asked Robiskie how long he planned on working him out.

“Why?” asked Robiskie. “You getting tired?”

“No,” the player answered. “But I do have a basketball game in a couple hours.”

The player was Terrell Owens.

Recalls Robiskie: “Holy shit. I was trying to kill him.”

That night, Owens didn’t look tired at all on the hardwood for Tennessee-Chattanooga. When he got back to Washington, Robiskie told everyone in a Redskins draft meeting that Owens was a late-first, early-second round pick and was laughed away. At No. 30 overall, Washington went on to draft offensive tackle Andre Johnson out of Penn State. He never played a game for the Redskins.

Owens fell to the 89^th pick in the third round. He’s in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

This time? An NFL team listened to Robiskie. One connection sure helped.

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Back when he first entered the coaching ranks as the Los Angeles Raiders special teams assistant, ’82 to ’84, Robiskie helped convince the team to draft a speedy running back out of tiny Western State College (Col.) named Sammy Seale in the eighth round. Then, he pushed even harder for Seale to make the team as a nickel corner and special-teamer. Seale, all guts, lasted a full decade in the NFL as player. Today, he’s a national scout for the Green Bay Packers.

Naturally, Seale called Robiskie to ask about Doubs ahead of the 2022 NFL Draft.

Robiskie didn’t hold back.

“He’s got your determination,” Robiskie told Seale. “He’s got your heart. He’s got your fight. He’s got your desire. He’s got your will to make somebody’s team and to make them better. And he's really, really deep-rooted in his belief in being a good football player and making a team the same way you were.”

Other teams failed to understand Romeo Doubs. Not the Packers.

After selecting Christian Watson in the second round, they took the Nevada wideout in the fourth.  

Meanwhile, the work with Robiskie did not end.

After OTAs and minicamp, Doubs called the coach up. “When we working?” he asked. “Tomorrow,” Robiskie answered. And into July — the one chance all NFL players have to catch their breath — Doubs begged for more. He asked Robiskie to train again and Robiskie said he was heading to Denver to visit his sister. No problem. Doubs’ former head coach at Nevada was now the head man at Colorado State. Nobody was on the premises over this July Fourth holiday but Jay Norvell gave Doubs the passcode to the facility.

Two footballs in tow, Robiskie made the 65-mile drive to campus for three separate workouts.

After picking up Doubs, the two noticed a spot off the highway where a car had apparently skidded into a ditch. The scene was vacant, but Robiskie did eye some police caution tape left behind. So, he pulled off the road, rolled the tape up and brought it to the field with them. For the first 2 ½ hours that day, Robiskie set the footballs aside and ripped Doubs through drills off that tape alone. “Routes… on routes… on routes… on routes,” Robiskie says. They climbed up the route tree. They ripped through more red-zone work. Robiskie taught Doubs how to play stronger from the 20-, 10- and 5-yard line in because that’s where everything gets compact. It’s no coincidence that Doubs has emerged as one of the best red-zone targets in the NFL.

Toe-dragging drills. Robiskie instructed Doubs to wear black shoes so the officials will always eye the difference along the boundary. Blocking drills. Robiskie had Doubs cutting blocking dummies they found in Colorado State’s equipment room. One-handed catches. Robiskie loathes those who try catching the ball with one hand on purpose. But he knows there’s always a chance the DB will hold a receiver’s arm back.

Robiskie also showed Doubs how to push off a DB with his shoulders — not his hands — so he gets separation without being penalized. Such nuance is a game-changer.

The final conversation the two had in-person was most important. Robiskie never coached in Green Bay, but calls former Packers GM Ron Wolf one of his best friends from their time together with the Raiders. He knew what awaited Doubs. He told the kid to eliminate all dreams of $50,000 Rolexes and fancy cars and gold necklaces and to buy a damn pickup truck for the winter. “When black people move to Green Bay,” Robiskie began, “they’re moving to Green Bay to win a Super Bowl. That’s the only reason black people go to Green Bay.” Next came a history lesson. Inside this booster club room — not a soul in sight through the glass window — Robiskie drove home one final message.

Up the board, he started writing the names of Packers receivers: John Jefferson, James Lofton, Sterling Sharpe, Donald Driver, Greg Jennings, Jordy Nelson. He worked out Nelson, the farmhand from Kansas State. People again looked at him like he was nuts for saying Nelson should be a first-rounder. Lastly, he brought up James Jones because this was another west coast kid with a big body who caught everything. Robiskie told Doubs that Jones was once considered too slow for the NFL but left as one of the Packers’ best receivers.

His point: You landed in the perfect spot. You have the talent to join this list. At one point, he also pointed out that the NFL’s first true star at wide receiver played for the Packers. If Don Hutson was able to perform in 12-below, there’s no reason he can’t.  

Romeo Doubs, he finished, needed to go in thinking: I’m going to be the best on this roster.

Doubs didn’t say a word. Hardly blinked. That was typically his reaction to everything.

“I could go over things with him and sometimes I have to ask him: ‘You listening to me, you hear what I said?’” Robiskie says. “And he didn’t react to nothing at all. But he always had it. He got it. It was on his mind. He heard what I said and he knew it.”

Doubs is on track. His Year 1 and Year 2 numbers mirror Jones, and he’s done it with the Packers transitioning from an aging great to a quarterback making his first starts.

Robiskie cannot help himself. He still shoots Doubs texts during games. After the wideout caught a ball between two DBs on a corner route, he wrote: “You’re doing what you’re supposed to do. I love it.” After Love threw an interception and Doubs stopped running, he didn’t bother thumbing through a text message — Robiskie left a voicemail. MF’ed him. Told him that kind of laziness embarrasses Love. Demanded Doubs chase down that DB “and take him to the g--damn ground. Don’t you ever stand up and watch a DB do that again as long as you live. Don’t ever do it.”

Doubs called him back to assure the message was received.

But here’s the thing. Doubs hasn’t had many opportunities to chase down a defensive back.

Love has thrown one interception on his last 300 pass attempts.

This offense is exceeding the wildest of expectations.

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Youth was the CODE RED concern. The entire Packers wide receiver room wasn’t even born when the team drafted Driver. They’re all 24 years or younger. All offseason, all September, all October, riiiight up to mid-November, the wideouts were universally belittled as a position of weakness.

The dearth of experience, it appeared, was stunting Jordan Love’s development.

This theory was then cannon-blasted into the arctic sky. Green Bay is two wins from the Super Bowl. This starting quarterback doesn’t ice out receivers or force-feed anyone specifically.

“Everybody can play in our room,” Doubs says. “Not even bragging about it. At some point, that was the question: ‘Oh man, can this guy Jordan play? Can these receivers do something? Dude, everybody in the NFL is going to have their slumps. They’re going to have the best of times, the worst of times.

“Everyone’s getting involved. Everybody can ball.”

Brian Gutekunst’s gamble as GM was that his handpicked QB would genuinely grow with young receivers from the ground up. Growing pains were real, but something clicked from Thanksgiving on. All the reps receivers got in with Love during the offseason started paying off. Doubs took his maniacal training mindset from Robiskie in ’22 to Love in ’23. Nobody has caught more passes from the QB than him. Both are Cali Cool. Both played in the Mountain West. Given their laser-beam, flat-line demeanors, it’s no shock they hit it off over endless offseason work together.

Doubs repeats it several times: All of his reps have come with Love.

He won’t discuss his own game, but he’ll sure praise his QB.

“Jordan, his poise is insane,” says Doubs. “And I talk to him all the time. He can have a bad play and his mouth is closed. I’m not saying he’s a robot. Obviously, if he makes a mistake, he’s going to talk through what he did wrong and then learn from it. But even if he makes the best of plays, he’s still on the iPad.

“His consistency is through the roof man. To witness it, it’s amazing.”

After Aaron Rodgers, this brand of leadership must be a breath of fresh air. Love, the same age as the playmakers all around him, doesn’t get too high or too low. Rodgers had a very specific “standard,” Doubs explains, and fully expected everyone to meet that standard. That’s not a knock. He enjoyed their time together, too. But what this crew clearly needed was patience. A full 2 ½ months within Matt LaFleur’s offense. Not Rodgers’ improvisational interpretation. Now? This unit is humming. Against the Vikings, Bo Melton (6-101-1) stepped up. Against the Bears, it was Dontayvion Wicks (6-61-2). In the playoff blowout over the Cowboys, Doubs went off.

Again, Doubs is not one to manifest. He never closes his eyes and envisions himself utterly dominating cornerbacks. That’s what gives Robiskie pause, too. Deep down in his heart, he isn’t sure Doubs has the confidence to be Sharpe or Lofton or Davante Adams. If those receivers are 10s, he calls Doubs an 8.5 because he’s not sure the receiver has the confidence to say point-blank, “I’m going to the Hall of Fame.”

“I think he’s just playing the game to catch a lot of balls, to help the Packers win,” Robiskie says. “I don’t think he goes out on Sunday to dominate that guy across from the line.”

He brings up the Senior Bowl handshake.

“That other group of guys I just called for you, they ain’t shaking nobody’s hand,” Robiskie says. “They’re kicking people’s ass. I don’t care if it was Deion Sanders or Rod Woodson, Charles Woodson. They’re going to beat his ass in the ground. And they’re going to put a dagger in your heart. James Lofton would put a dagger in your heart. Davante Adams today is still putting the fear of God in people. I think that Romeo Doubs goes out there with a mindset of ‘I’m going to bust my ass. I’m going to do what I got to do today to help my team win the game.’ I don’t think he’ll go the game and say, ‘I’m going to catch 11 for 192 and two touchdowns. I’m going to destroy this boy.’ He takes his time and he lets the game come to him.”

He is not sure Doubs ever can ever get this mindset, too, saying he’ll humbly catch his slant, his comeback route and would rather pluck a fade route over a DB’s head from the 10-yard line than embarrass a corner on a post for 80 yards.

Maybe Robiskie’s correct, and Doubs lacks the malice to make defenders pee down their leg. But the man who brought these two together, Keyshawn Johnson, finished with 10,571 career receiving yards in his own career by bringing such malice to the playing field. And he believes. No, Doubs did not author his own “Just Give Me The Damn Ball!” tell-all as a rookie. Johnson used to inform cornerbacks straight-up they’re about to be on SportsCenter, make a play and shout, “I warned you!” That’s not Doubs’ personality, but he sees a quiet fight in his mentee and points to other receivers wired the same way: Marvin Harrison, Eric Moulds, Tyler Lockett.

Johnson grew up in L.A. himself. He knows everything that fueled Doubs to this point.

“I always think that the best football players are the ones that have been through some stuff,” Johnson says. “That’s been my motto for years: ‘That dude can play, man. That dude has been through some stuff.’ You don't have to be from South Central. You can be from a little old country town somewhere and just go through the grind and the heartache and pain of not knowing where your next meal might come from. Those are always the guys I want. I want those guys. Because those are guys I can rely on.

“We grew up in the same area. It’s from knowing — been there, done that.”

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If the Packers do start feeding Doubs the ball 10 times a game, Johnson sees multiple Pro Bowls in his future. Holmes, too. He trained Brandin Cooks, Julian Edelman and sees “generational” potential in Doubs. His comparison? Ex-Jaguar Jimmy Smith. His only hope is that people do not misconstrue silence for complacency. To him, there’s beauty to such a talented wide receiver not pounding his chest.

Robiskie might’ve been telling Doubs to look at his mother on the sideline and imagine a better life for her one day. But even back to middle school, Doubs never once said that he wanted to get to the NFL “to change my family’s life.” That’s not a motivator. He repeats, again, that he’s literally taken life one… day… at… a… time. Fans, trainers, coaches, media. Doubs admits this isn’t what people want to hear.

Forget Canton proclamations.

Asked broadly where he sees his life heading, Doubs has no answer.

“Some may say you’ve got to manifest it,” Doubs says. “Yeah, I get that. But sometimes that’s just the way how life is. You can sit here and say you want something and ultimately you don’t get that? That’s where the struggle starts. I’m a completely different guy when it comes to stuff like this. You’ve just got to let it come. Whenever the time is right, the time is right. I can’t sit here and say, ‘I want to be this All-Pro guy.’ And I get it: As an athlete, that’s the mindset. You want to be the best ever. But that’s not who I’ve been. I have to stay true to that. And people lose that at some point in their lifelong journey.”

He’s dead-on correct, too. Fame changes an endless number of athletes. People may view him as “quiet,” he says. “Square’ish.” That’s fine. Doubs refuses to become somebody he’s not.

The man he is — a man living in the now — is doing pretty damn well.

He cares most about the two ladies at his side. Doubs gained an entirely new appreciation for women during Andrea’s pregnancy. He didn’t know what to do when she was in pain. But he tried his best. When their infant baby cried through three long months of colic and doctors had no answers? They got through it, together, one day at a time. He’s very close to his mother and speaks to his father every once in a while. His Dad found a job and, Doubs says he’s doing “solid.” Obviously, his success has lured South Central peers out of the woodworks. Names he’s never heard before. He’s got no problem ignoring texts from those claiming to be his pal back in the day. And if people need him, they know to go through Jarmaine Jr.

This playoff run is foreign terrain — his spotlight will only brighten — but he genuinely does not care.

The concept of “legacy” means nothing to Doubs. He’ll never be the ex-pro reliving old war stories to an adoring audience.

“Not saying there’s something wrong with that,” Doubs says. “But I’m just talking from the shape of who I am. I had the spotlight in high school. I didn’t give a f--k about that. I had that shit in college. I did not care about that. So having it here, the only thing I can be appreciative for is the fan base. Especially with it being owned by the fan base. But forget the spotlight, man. And even if I do want it? It ain’t time yet. In my eyes, it's not time yet.”

Doubs promises he’ll never look too far ahead.

His focus will not blur.

“I’m telling you, man. The perspective game? It’ll take you places.”

He looks at his daughter.

“I need to teach her, man. I need to teach her the perspective.”

One day, he’ll lift up his head and appreciate what this day-to-day patience has provided. He’ll realize his rise convinced kids in South Central not to hang with that gang the first time, let alone a third or fifth. They’ll envision a different future before it’s too late and lock into the present. He’ll share this perspective. Maybe Robiskie or another trainer even uses the name “Romeo Doubs” in the same breath as those Packer greats with a future draft pick.

There’s a chance he’ll even look back at this 2023- ’24 season as something special.

For now? Doubs is perfectly content catching that 10-yard slant route from Love for a first down, finishing a nice meal with his family and bundling up his daughter in her pink coat for the winter chill.  

There’s no reason to think beyond tonight.

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