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ROSEVILLE — Kolton Miller saunters through the front door, all 6-foot-8, 309 pounds of him, fresh off a grueling workout with his trainer, past the signed Joe Montana and Jerry Rice jerseys framed on the wall to his right. That’s correct. The father of the Raiders’ first-round pick hangs a pair of 49ers jerseys over a billiards table covered in — you guessed it — red felt.

Miller holds no beef with Dad even if his team is Oakland’s Bay Area foe. The soft-spoken 22-year-old doesn’t hold beef with much of anyone, for that matter — not the critics saying the Raiders reached for him at No. 15, not being the second offensive tackle taken, not even the fake Kolton Miller making headlines for offensive tweets many Twitterheads attributed to him.

Those who know Miller best know the likely starter on Oakland’s offensive line possesses a switch that transforms a carefree teddy bear into a pancake-ing behemoth. He lowers himself onto a brown leather couch, props his tree-trunk legs on an extendable leg rest and explains what motivates him, what really flips that switch. Because it’s hard to envision this gentle giant mustering the tenacity to manhandle any human despite his stature, let alone the Von Millers and Joey Bosas of the AFC West and beyond.

Of course he isn’t the only offensive lineman with split personalities on the gridiron and off, and he begins his answer as most others like him might. “I like competing. I like going against big competition, but yeah…”

He trails off, then pauses briefly.

“Chad, my little brother, was sort of my motivating factor up until this point.”

Chad is 16 and Kolton’s only sibling by blood. He was born with Moebius syndrome, a rare neurological condition that mainly restricts facial expressions and eye movement. He qualifies as legally blind, experiences short-term memory, fatigues easily and struggles at times with balance, among other symptoms. Chad wanted to be like his older brother, a football star in their hometown outside Sacramento, but physically could not.

Instead, he became involved with football in other ways: as a cheerleader, statistical know-it-all, coach’s helper. His mom’s motto: It’s not that you cannot do anything. It might be that you can do it in a different way. Still, that wasn’t enough. Chad wanted to play, but he got a promise from big brother as a consolation.

Kolton vowed to pursue an NFL playing career for Chad since he was the only brother who could. He wanted to use his earnings, if he made the league, to make life easier for his younger brother, maybe something as simple as paying for rent down the line. His NFL home could very well be farther away than Chad preferred and his finances limited depending on when he was taken, but it was a promise and a plan nonetheless.

“Sometimes it’s not fair”

Kolton was ready to march into the middle school cafeteria to confront Chad’s bullies. The towering high school lineman typically stayed quiet, but this was little brother. Breaking character was only right.

Karrie Miller recalls the incident, and her younger son’s nonchalant response. “No, no, no, no,” Chad said, declining Kolton’s help. “It’s gonna be OK.” He gradually learned to deal with his disability and its disadvantages, understanding he was different but not letting it define him.

Kolton has drawn inspiration himself from the strides Chad has made since an early childhood limited by Moebius syndrome: no sitting upright until 2, no walking until 4, no running in straight lines, only blended foods until nearly age 6.

Kolton didn’t fully grasp the severity of his brother’s disabilities until his early teens, his mom said, and did whatever he could to make Chad feel anything was possible. He often brought Chad around the football team, where he served as sideline assistant, water boy and chief of high-fives. “I think Chad gets to live a little bit vicariously through Kolton,” said Roseville football coach Larry Cunha, who got to witness the mutual benefits of the brothers’ bond up close.

Chad was so involved in Kolton’s college recruitment that he earned the nickname “Bad Chad” from former UCLA assistant Angus McClure for his spunk. Bad Chad asked coaches where his brother stood on the depth chart and about UCLA’s strength of schedule. On a visit to campus, he dressed in the full Bruins get-up for a photo op with then-head coach Jim Mora. The Bruins were courting Kolton, but Chad was part of the package.

“I didn’t realize how big of a part he was of the recruiting process really ‘till the end,” McClure said. “I still call him Bad Chad. He’s a big personality. He speaks his mind.”

Chad hung around UCLA’s summer practices, attended walkthroughs before gameday and stood outside the stadium exit to greet players following games. He doesn’t choose getting a helmet signed by the entire team for his birthday as his favorite memory from Kolton’s career, rather sneaking into UCLA’s locker room on Kolton’s Senior Night after lying that he needed somewhere to stay because he couldn’t find his parents. That’s how much he wanted to be like big brother.

Back home, Roseville coaches knew how badly Chad wanted to play. They added him to the roster and gave him a uniform despite never playing him in a game. Before practices, Chad hyped himself up by replaying Kolton’s best games in his head. “I see him as a football star, basically,” Chad said. He was far more vocal in the weight room and on the field than big brother had ever been, Kolton admits, and took videos and photographs for his teammates on the side.

He’s since hung up the cleats because of his disability — Karrie said he passed out a few times due to fatigue, among other challenges — but still helps out the staff. “They’ve got him in different roles which he doesn’t wanna do,” she said. “Chad wants to be out there in a uniform. In his mind, he thinks that he’s playing football because he has a very imaginative mind. That inspires them and it inspires Chad.”

Chad knows he can’t be like his brother, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying. Following his every move may not lead to a career in the NFL, but watching Kolton live out both their dreams will certainly suffice.

“Sometimes as a dad, all the stuff that Kolton did, you’d like to be able to have Chad do it, too,” Dan Miller said. “But sometimes it’s not fair. He’s been a trooper through it all and he’s a part of it.”

“I just think about him and I’m instantly happy”

Karrie had returned from grabbing the boys food when she overheard their conversation from the hotel room. The family was in town toward the end of Kolton’s redshirt freshman year for a UCLA game. Kolton and Chad didn’t know Mom could hear them.

That’s when Kolton got Chad’s approval to chase the NFL, assuring he’d dedicate his journey to little brother. Karrie, hearing a “That’s really cool, bro!” from her youngest, peaked into the room as tears welled from her eyes.

“You would think they are much, much closer in age,” she said, “almost like they have a part of each other.” Get Raiders news in your inbox. Sign up now for the free Raiders HQ newsletter.

Chad may see Kolton as an icon, but Kolton views Chad the same despite their six-plus years apart. Big brother wrote down individual goals on a sheet of paper his second season with the Bruins, and they included becoming a starter and an All-American, though his ultimate goal remained the NFL. Once that became a possibility and not strictly fantasy, Kolton looked to the kid who’d always looked to him for motivation.

“I can be really good at football and go into the NFL and really provide for him,” Kolton thought. “(If I’m) thinking like, ‘Alright, this is a crappy day,’ I just think about him and I’m instantly happy. Or it’ll be my last set, I just have to think about him and that kind of gives me that extra juice to beat the rep.”

As Chad played vicariously through Kolton, big brother made it his responsibility to succeed so Chad felt like he was thriving, too. All those practices, games and recruiting visits Chad joined in on were only made possible because big brother viewed little brother as an integral part of the process.

That’s why when Miller received his generic “No. 1” black jersey after the Raiders took him in the first round, he didn’t hold onto it for long. Chad’s jersey collection consisted of former UCLA and current Jaguars linebacker Myles Jack, Odell Beckham Jr., Colin Kaepernick and Peyton Manning, among several others. Having big brother’s jersey in his possession might top them all.

“It’s been pretty awesome, an inspiration kind of, just to follow his footsteps,” Chad said. “ … Basically the whole experience, hearing ‘Raaaaaaaiiiiiders’ the whole time is gonna be…”

His sentence fades off, which is fitting, because there really isn’t one single word that can describe how much Chad watching Kolton in the NFL will mean to them both.

“Being in the media box would be pretty cool”

When Chad first strolled into the living room, he looked fresh off a nap. He slumped into the couch next to his dad, his brown hair parted in the middle and bobbing at either side. Ask him about Kolton’s exploits, though, and he’s wide awake.

Chad’s short-term memory affects hobbies such as cooking, his mom said, in which it’s safer to microwave than potentially forget a burning stove. Basic reading, too, has trouble sticking. Post-it notes are used on the bathroom mirror to remind him of daily tasks. His brother’s NFL Combine numbers are a different story.

Broad jump? “10’1.” (A combine record for offensive linemen.)

40? “4.95.”

Bench? “24.”

All correct.

When it comes to football, “He’ll remember e-v-e-r-y-thing,” Karrie said.

Now Chad is fully engaged, reliving and dissecting his thought process at the Miller family greenroom table when Notre Dame offensive tackle Mike McGlinchey went ninth overall to the 49ers.

“I’m like ‘Welp, there’s only one place where we can go now and that’s Oakland.’ I probably knew it in my head,” he said. “Oakland’s gonna pick him. Oakland’s gonna pick him. He was either gonna go there or Arizona if the trade didn’t happen.”

Chad spoke it into existence, and now he’ll be at every home game, joining those chants he’s already hearing in is head. He was a big part of Kolton’s Roseville High and UCLA teams, but being more than just a family member in the stands might be a different ballgame in the NFL.

“Wouldn’t that be dope to like…” Kolton starts, offering a suggestion for Chad to get involved.

“Be a water boy over there on the sideline,” Dan chimes in.

“No, hell no,” Kolton finishes. “Lead the team out … Maybe in my 10th year, that’d be like the one thing I could ask.”

“That would be cool,” Chad says calmly, almost as if leading the Raiders through flames under the arch is too low key. “Being in the media box would be pretty cool, though.”

Chad has thought of entering media as a writer or cameraman. The Raiders even pledged to reserve a press box seat for a game so he can see what it’s like. Chad thinks “that’d be dope” and suddenly he’s discovered his ideal spot to watch Kolton’s next journey from, even if he’s not as close as the ones prior.

Kolton beams ear to ear with a “Hoooooooooo, man!” An ecstatic Chad makes for an ecstatic Kolton, too.

He’s seen his younger brother frustrated, eager, yearning for a goal he can’t quite reach. Now he sees him teeming with excitement for one he can.

Remember the motto Chad grew frustrated with? It’s not that you cannot do anything. It might be that you can do it in a different way. Now he’s embracing it, seeking his own path — with Kolton right beside him after all.