Seth Roberts’ Winding Path to the NFL May Make Him the Raiders’ Unsung Star

OAKLAND, Calif. — When Seth Roberts walked to the line of scrimmage, he didn’t have a clue. What was his route? What was this coverage? Oh no, was that his position coach scowling over there?

His first season at West Alabama, Roberts would inevitably screw up and phone home in a pit of frustration.

“There was too much mentally going through him,” said his father, Ronnie Roberts. “His mind would go blank.”

Yet here is Seth Roberts today.

There’s only one minute, 55 seconds left in overtime. At the Buccaneers’ 41-yard line, on 4th-and-3 from the slot, he smells blood. Roberts toasts his man on an ankle-breaking slant route, catches Derek Carr’s laser, busts through two tacklers and coasts to the end zone. He guns the ball at a “Bucs for a Better Bay” sign on the back wall and is mauled by teammates.

He’s not clueless. He’s a hero.

At the center of Raiders magic this season is a 6’2″, 195-pound kid from Nowhere, USA. Roberts landed in the Bay Area via Pearl River (Mississippi) Community College and Division II West Alabama. Three of his 10 touchdowns in two seasons have been game-winners. OK, so it’s a fourth overall pick (Amari Cooper) and a rejuvenated 10th overall pick (Michael Crabtree) who are really anchoring this aerial attack, but you know how the NFL postseason works.

Seasons boil down to someone else.

David Tyree pins a football against his helmet. Mario Manningham is a trapeze artist along the sideline. Jacoby Jones leaks free in the Broncos secondary with 31 seconds left to cradle a 70-yard touchdown. Jermaine Kearse hot-potatoes a catch off five body parts.

Seth Roberts could be next. He’s trending toward such a moment.

He takes a seat inside his locker and reminisces. The brutal murder of a cousin rocked his world in high school. The death of a grandmother tested him in college. The blistering-tough love of one coach was bound to pinball him one way or another.

“Ambition, man,” Roberts said. “I always had a dream. I would never speak about going to the NFL, wanting to play in the NFL, but it was always in the back of my mind. I’ve been working since I started playing.

“I think it’s paid off.”

He turns around and points to the red Under Armour cleats he’ll wear for Sunday’s “My Cause My Cleats” game against the Bills. The American Diabetes Association logo is screen-printed near the heel with “1.4 million diagnosed yearly” written in white. That’s what took his grandmother’s life.

“I’ve got a lot of loved ones watching down on me,” Roberts said. “They’re my angels. They’re guiding me.”

He didn’t land in these shoes by accident.

Killers left the body in an alley to rot.

That reality still stings.

They left him to rot.

Two men shot Shedrick Bonner in the head, and his 19-year-old corpse was found near a bike trail off Second Avenue and Third Street in Moultrie, Georgia, on March 15, 2007. The two charged were supposedly friends of Bonner, members of the same Block Boys gang. Jerrod Blackwell was sentenced to 15 years in prison and five years of probation. Ktherius Johnson received 11 years and nine.

As the Roberts family recalls, Bonner had cooperated with police on a previous investigation, so the two took him out as retaliation. Court documents, per one report, indicate the two were trying to rob Bonner of ecstasy pills.

Either way, Seth Roberts’ cousin was dead. Bonner—affectionately known as “Scrooge” by everyone—was gone. The two were closer than cousins. Like brothers. So here in Oakland, he relives the nightmare. He was in ninth grade at the time.

“Go on Facebook right now,” Roberts said, despondent, “and you’d still see ‘RIP Scrooge.'”

Of course, Bonner was no saint. He had been previously charged with aggravated assault in a shooting incident that resulted in one man’s death, the wounding of two others and four homes struck with bullets. But after a stint in jail, he told authorities exactly what had happened, serving as the main witness in the case. The prosecutor said Bonner named two suspects.

Soon after, he was dead.

Roberts believes his cousin was trying to turn his life around.

“They led him to this alley,” he said, “and shot him in the head and just left him in the alley. … He’s thinking he’s with them, and they killed him. Shot him in the head.”

When Roberts was three years old, his family moved from Moultrie to Tallahassee, Florida, but the two cities were only an hour and 15 minutes apart, so he’d see Scrooge often. Scrooge looked after him, too, driving him to see his grandmother down the street. After his death, whenever the family was back in Georgia, Dad refused to let his son drift into the streets to see old friends. He knew what it’d lead to. So he hired Seth as one of his bag boys at the Publix supermarket he managed. His son lasted three months.

Fine by Dad. But right then, they made a pact. If Seth wasn’t going to work 9 to 5 during the summer, he sure as heck was going to play sports.

From that point forward, the Roberts family was traveling to AAU basketball tournaments constantly.

“And that kept him out of the streets,” Ronnie Roberts said. “My dad wasn’t in my life. But as I grew up, me and my dad became close. I wanted to raise my son different.”

Then Kez McCorvey had a notion.

McCorvey coached football at the Maclay School, which Roberts attended. McCorvey also was a former NFL veteran, having played receiver for the Lions from 1995 to 1997. And in Roberts, he saw a freak athlete who would make an ideal wide receiver. He told Roberts he’d have a better shot at a scholarship in football than in basketball. Convinced, Roberts redirected his focus. Just like McCorvey saw in Herman Moore in his Lions days, Roberts possessed an innate ability to “high-point” the ball in flight.

From there, McCorvey used drills he learned at Florida State to harness Roberts’ wicked change of direction.

“He was raw, but he had a lot of talent,” said McCorvey, now the receivers coach at Middle Tennessee State. “A lot of natural skill.”

Florida State was Roberts’ dream school, but he was barely a blip on the Seminoles’ radar. The family thought Miami (Ohio) would offer a scholarship, but it never did. So Roberts went off to Pearl River Community College for two years. Division I interest remained non-existent.

Then Desmond Lindsey had a notion.

Lindsey, then the Division II West Alabama receivers coach, had seen some grainy Pearl River film.

“This kid,” he told himself, “has a chance to be special.”

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So Lindsey introduced himself to Roberts after a game and fired off weekly text messages to stay on his mind. A “good game” here, a “you’ll be the next great at West Alabama” there. And off to Livingston, Alabama, Roberts went. The Roberts family loaded into the car and headed six hours northwest.

Nobody thought the NFL was even possible.

“Nah. Nope. Nope,” Ronnie Roberts said. “Wasn’t even thought of then.”

Seth Roberts had no clue what he was …

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