The party was raging 30,000 feet in the air, far, far above the mass hysteria raging on the ground. Flying from New Orleans back to LAX, fresh off an overtime stunner of an NFC Championship Game, Nickell Robey-Coleman soaked in the moment. Music blared. Players danced. His Los Angeles Rams were going to the Super Bowl, and the blatant pass interference he somehow got away with was a huge reason why. Amid the beautiful chaos, the 27-year-old slot cornerback decided mid-flight to turn on his Wi-Fi, and...hello. Notifications tripped over themselves by the dozens. Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. All of his accounts were blowing up with messages on a continuous loop and, no, they were not all congratulatory. There was a Saints fan promising to burn his house down. Another vowing to "f--k you up" at the airport. Another telling him he better leave the city ASAP or he "might not see tomorrow." There were countless death threats from what he presumed to be fake names. Was he shaken? Did he alert authorities? Uh, no. And no. He closed his phone and kept celebrating. Video Play Button Videos you might like "Wolves," he says, "don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep." Everyone below might have been up in arms over the egregious non-call heard 'round the world—the cannon blast that should've been flagged, that should've sent the Saints to the Super Bowl. Robey-Coleman, frankly, never gave a damn. Not about those cowards threatening his life or about any of the other sheep, including the Saints themselves. Not about Sean Payton, whom he's heard whining since the game. "We outplayed them. We out-schemed them. And we outcoached them. ... The Saints need to hold themselves accountable. They did not play championship football. Their numbers were low. Michael Thomas had 36 yards receiving. They had 50 yards rushing. They didn't capitalize on the turnovers we made early. We capitalized on the breaks we got at the end." Not about Benjamin Watson, who called on the NFL to make a statement. "Ben Watson, you didn't even play! Be quiet. I respect you as a 14-year veteran. I respect you as a league rep. But, no, in this case. No, bro. No, bro." Not about the league itself for fining him $26,739. He finds it funny the league waited five days to fine him, as if scrambling to put on a Band-Aid only because of the unprecedented public backlash. "It's like, it's like...How could you? Come on. Five days later? I can understand next day." And he finds it downright hilarious that the league technically fined him for targeting. He tilts his head back and howls. "Targeting! Targeting! C'mon man." Not about anyone still bemoaning the hit itself. "I put his ass on a Waffle House frying pan! It was football! If you don't know the sport, well, then, news flash: We hit people. It's the NFL. And sometimes, we'd rather take a flag and hit somebody than somebody catch and score on us." Not about that petition with 760,000 (and counting) signatures demanding a do-over. What'd happen if the teams played again? "No ifs. It's irrelevant." Sitting on the edge of the Rams' practice field end zone on a perfect, breezy, 72-degree late January day, a gorgeous canvass of mountains behind him, he grins. The beauty of this all, to Robey-Coleman, is he can kill 'em with kindness. He has noticed a correlation. The wider he smiles, the more everyone can see he doesn't give a damn, the more pissed everyone gets. So he'll keep smiling, all the way to Super Bowl Sunday. Because now he's letting everyone know he most certainly does not give a damn about the New England Patriots' mystique, either. No, he sees a very beatable team and a very beatable, aging quarterback. He hates the Patriots to his core. That's right: "Hate." Robey-Coleman, formerly of the Patriots-punching-bag Bills, repeats that word several times. If you thought the wreckage he left behind in the NFC Championship Game was rough, you haven't seen anything yet. Robey-Coleman wants everyone to picture the the bar fight scene in A Bronx Tale. That's how he envisions Sunday going down. The Rams will be the Italian mobsters at the bar, the Patriots will be the visiting biker gang, and Robey-Coleman will play the role of "Sonny," Chazz Palminteri's character. The neighborhood kingpin. "We kick 'em out of the bar, beat 'em up—and the one thing he said, he looked down at a guy and said, 'I did this to you.' That's how I want to feel: I did this to you. I did this to you." Justin Edmonds/Getty Images As he says this, Robey-Coleman re-enacts the scene. He points an index finger down at the blacktop in front of him, and a twisted smile crosses his face. The Super Bowl cannot come fast enough. Soon, he's sure, everyone will know him for far more than one play. He rattles off his duties, one by one—eliminate receivers, mash tight ends with a two-hand shiver, blitz, break on the ball, sacrifice his body against the run, pinball all over the field—and makes it clear he wants to be the new gold standard at his position. A player who's feared. This mentality to "make history," to "change the game" in ways other cornerbacks do not, is what drives him from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep. The sound of an engine interrupts Robey-Coleman's train of thought, and Todd Gurley zips by in the end zone in the passenger seat of a cart. "What up, Lifesaver?!" he yells. He's been calling him that all week. Not bad. Robey-Coleman likes it. But he prefers to go by "Slot God." "Robey Island" never sufficed as a nickname because he does so much more. Whatever you call him, though, just know that this 5'8", 180-pound corner oozing with swagger isn't worried about what you or anyone else thinks. His life led him to this moment, and now that he's here, he doesn't intend to shrink in it. After everything he's been through, you best believe his confidence is bursting. So move along, Saints. Nickell Robey-Coleman is on to Atlanta. Death threats aren't going to faze him. Ever. Not when he has faced actual death up close. Not when he lost the two people closest to him. Before this moment in the spotlight, Robey-Coleman had seen the darkness. Twice. First as a senior in high school. Fifteen days after he committed to USC, on Feb. 18, 2010, his mother died from a massive heart attack. Then again just this season. On Nov. 15 of this year, his son died five days after birth. The reason Robey-Coleman plays and speaks and lives so freely starts here, with tragedy. He can still remember walking into his mother's bedroom before heading to class, to check on her because she was just in the hospital and had been dealing with high blood pressure. And there Maxine Robey was, passed out on the floor. He called 911. He performed CPR. He tried talking to Mom, but as her lips moved no words came out. An ambulance rushed Maxine to the hospital, and family told Nickell to go to school, to try to take his mind off this. He couldn't, of course. He soon redirected to the hospital, walked into her room, and there was his mom, his "everything," deceased at 44 years old. Nickell asked everyone to leave the room for a moment and knelt beside Mom's bed. Right then, he promised her he'd finish college, play in the NFL, live in her honor. With Dad faded out of the picture, Mom handled it all in their household. Discipline. Empathy. Love. So Robey-Coleman knows his raw fearlessness absolutely comes from Mom, that willingness to attack receivers one-on-one despite being the smallest player on the field as far back as he remembers. He'd go on to tell USC coaches to stick him on Notre Dame receiver Michael Floyd one-on-one, even though Floyd was eight inches taller and 50-plus pounds heavier. He shut him down. He kept a picture of Mom with the letters "R.I.P." on it in his locker. He eventually added Mom's maiden name, "Coleman," to his last name and continues visiting her tombstone in Frostproof, Florida, every chance he can. To chat. To continue that conversation in the hospital room. And yet, one promise he made Mom was in question. When he entered the NFL draft in 2013, not a single team was willing to use a pick on him. So to this day, Robey-Coleman still can't get one number out of his head: 254. That's the number of draft-eligible players this league deemed better than him that year. It still baffles him. He still can rattle off the names of players who were drafted instead of him. "It gave me that chip on my shoulder—being undrafted," he says. What scouts didn't account for was that this was someone who idolized the ultimate lightweight-conquering heavyweights in Allen Iverson, someone who YouTubed clips of Spud Webb winning the NBA's dunk contest and returner Dante Hall dominating at 5'8", someone who took up boxing because he knew he'd need to be the bully and throw the first punch at the line of scrimmage. He clawed his way onto the Buffalo Bills' roster as an undrafted free agent that year and never looked back. His attitude fuels his play. He's been saying whatever he wants for years. When a pass interference call on Robey-Coleman cost the Bills a 2015 win in London, against the Jaguars, he shredded the officials. He called it "the worst call I've ever been a part of in my life," and the league basically admitted it was bogus by not fining him for his scathing comments. He'd be doubted again. One of Sean McDermott's first orders of business in March 2017 was (inexplicably) to release Robey-Coleman. He was quickly scooped up by the Rams and became a voice to follow on one of the league's best defenses, earning a three-year extension ahead of this season. Size be damned. Matthew Emmons-USA TODAY Sports The Rams have a $135 million defensive tackle (Aaron Donald) and another (Ndamukong Suh) who once inked a deal nearly as large, and they coughed up a load of draft picks for the enigmatic Marcus Peters and Aqib Talib and Dante Fowler Jr. But talk to those in the locker room, and this is the kind of personality that was desperately needed. A gnarly, brash throwback who serves as the glue for all of this talent and keeps everyone hungry. Always. "You need guys like Nickell and the energy that he brings. That spark," says safety Lamarcus Joyner. "Whether you feel like coming to play or not, just seeing him doing his job can always motivate you." Adds cornerback Troy Hill, "He's got that heart." Its strength never clearer to teammates than this November, when Robey-Coleman lost his son. After L.A. took down the Seahawks at home, 36-31, Robey-Coleman received chilling news. His son-to-be, Nickell Jr., was arriving a month early, and an emergency C-section was needed. He arranged for the best medical care possible, then headed to Colorado Springs with the Rams to prepare for their game against the Chiefs. The situation back in L.A. worsened and worsened, though, and on Nov. 15, five days after his son was born, Robey-Coleman hopped on a plane back to L.A. to be there for his son. Upon landing, he learned Nickell Jr. had died due to collapsed lungs. "A very, very empty feeling," Robey-Coleman says. "A feeling that I don't want anybody to go through." Empty because he knew those traits Mom passed on to him—her fight, her determination—were going to live on in his son. Now he was gone too. Was Robey-Coleman depressed after each of those tragedies? Absolutely. There are days he thinks about the son he won't have a chance to raise. The memories Sr. and Jr. will never share. Just like there are still so many days he thinks back to Mom. To her cooking, to rubbing her sore feet at night, to her unconditional love. Says Robey-Coleman: "There were times when my son passed that I was depressed. I was down.<doc-sep>ATLANTA — Nickell Robey-Coleman wanted to clarify a few things Monday night. The Los Angeles Rams cornerback who already drew outrage (think: he’s received death threats) for a missed pass-interference call in New Orleans made more waves this week with comments on Tom Brady. “Age has definitely taken a toll,” Robey-Coleman told Bleacher Report of the New England Patriots quarterback. “For him to still be doing this is a great compliment to him. But I think that he’s definitely not the same quarterback he was. “Movement. Speed. Velocity. Arm strength. ... He’s not doing as much of that anymore.” At Super Bowl Opening Night, Robey-Coleman walked back those comments. “I was asked the question about when I was in Buffalo how Tom Brady feels from then to now — I said his age,” Robey-Coleman clarified. “I said nothing about he’s too old, can’t do anything. “Age is the only thing that changed from now to here. His skill and arm is still strong. He’s still the GOAT.” SUPER BOWL OPENING NIGHT:53 things we learned Rams general manager Les Snead told reporters “I think we told him not to say anything else.” Brady said he had nothing to add to comments. Robey-Coleman played Brady’s Patriots twice annually in four seasons with Buffalo, winning just twice while losing six contests. He averaged fewer than three tackles per game, and recorded a pass deflection in one. But playing Brady so often taught Robey-Coleman about elite quarterback play. “He’s the face of the league almost,” Robey-Coleman said. “To go against a guy like that is an honor, but also a great challenge as well. I can’t wait to go out there and actually go against him well and face him again like old times. He was one of the greatest quarterbacks and I went twice a year — looking at other quarterbacks, you appreciate him from the standpoint of he knows how to make checks, he sees things other quarterbacks really don’t see. “When you go against quarterbacks other than Tom, you prey on quarterbacks like that.” And the Patriots “hatred” he told Bleacher Report he fostered in Buffalo wasn’t personal — just a division rivalry. “Nothing purely negative to say about that team,” Robey-Coleman said. “I want to be sure I’m a class act, there’s mutual respect. “I want to be a class act when it comes to something like this. I don’t want it to get out of context that I don’t respect that team. I’ve got nothing but respect for that team.” Follow USA TODAY Sports' Jori Epstein on Twitter @JoriEpstein. If you love talking football, we have the perfect spot for you. Join our new Facebook Group, The Ruling Off the Field, to engage in friendly debate and conversation with fellow football fans and our NFL insiders.<doc-sep>
ATLANTA — Nickell Robey-Coleman had a meeting with Los Angeles Rams coach Sean McVay on Monday, and it wasn’t to discuss the infamous non-call on Robey-Coleman’s pass interference in the NFC championship game. Robey-Coleman was in the headlines for a different reason on Monday. A Bleacher Report article had him sharing his thoughts on the Patriots (“I naturally hate them”) and the most explosive comments might have been that age was “taking a toll” on Tom Brady. Nickell Robey-Coleman tried to put the genie back in the bottle on Monday night. (Getty Images) “[McVay] said, ‘Robey, I know you’re a different guy, you’re not that type of guy, you’ve got way more class that that,’ which I do,” Robey-Coleman said at Super Bowl opening night on Monday. “He’s like, ‘Just answer the questions tonight, another day at the office and move on from it after tonight.’ ” Robey-Coleman said, predictably, that his comments on Brady were taken out of context. “You can never talk about somebody that’s like, the sensei of football,” Robey-Coleman said. “It’s a respect level. At this point I feel a little disrespected that people think I would disrespect Tom Brady. I got nothing but respect. I’m a class act when it comes to that.” Brady, predictably, wasn’t taking the bait. “Yeah, I don’t have much to add,” he said when asked about the comments Monday night. Perhaps it was because of his chat with McVay, but Robey-Coleman had nothing but great things to say about Brady on Monday night. He said the comments about the 41-year-old Brady’s age were “taken out of context, period.” “He’s a great quarterback,” Robey-Coleman said. “We know he’s got a lot of championships, we know he’s got a lot of accolades. He’s a future Hall of Famer. What’s different about Tom Brady is he puts his teammates in the right position to make plays. That’s why he’s Tom Brady, that’s why he’s great. That’s why I respect him.” The same goes for the Patriots as a whole, he said. “I’ve got nothing but respect for their team,” Robey-Coleman said. “It’s something that got taken out of context. I cleared the air for all the rumors and how the story was created.” Story continues Oh, and then there was the other big story that made Robey-Coleman a household name. He wasn’t called for a pass interference on a key call against the Saints, and that controversy hasn’t slowed down. He also was fined for a helmet-to-helmet hit, also uncalled, on the play. “I don’t make the calls,” Robey-Coleman said about the unending controversy. “When I see things on social media, I just ignore them.” All of a sudden Robey-Coleman went from a relative unknown to one of the more talked about players in Super Bowl LIII. “It’s pretty surreal,” Robey-Coleman said. “You’ve got a call that wasn’t made, five days later I get fined, then a few days later this happens with the out-of-context article. You’ve just got to look at it for what it is, and can’t get distracted.” The comments about Brady will die down, perhaps. Brady, like many great players, finds motivation in many different ways. Robey-Coleman was asked if his comments will make his job tougher on Sunday. “Ummm … maybe,” Robey-Coleman said with a smile. “I’m ready. We’ll see.” Los Angeles Rams defensive back Nickell Robey-Coleman (23) celebrates in the locker room after the Rams won the NFC title. (AP) More from Yahoo Sports: • Saints player still upset: His Pro Bowl shirt says it all • Golfer loses nearly $100K for questionable penalty • Funny ending to rain-soaked, blooper-filled Pro Bowl • Reigning MVP backs out of White House visit Subscribe to The Yahoo Sports NFL Podcast Apple Podcasts• Stitcher • Google Podcasts – – – – – – – Frank Schwab is a writer for Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him at shutdown.corner@yahoo.com or follow him on Twitter!