“I see myself being able to hold the trophy one of these days. I think it’s in there somewhere, that that’s what keeps me going,” Julius Peppers said. Credit: Gary Porter

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Green Bay — A short list is read to Julius Peppers. He likes what he hears.

Bruce Smith, the NFL's all-time sacks leader, played seven more seasons after he turned 34 years old. Reggie White had 16 sacks ... at age 37. Michael Strahan notched 11 1/2 sacks at 34 and retired at 36 with — count 'em — two Super Bowl rings.

You better believe Peppers knows his history.

"By no means am I comparing myself to those guys, but you do take a look at those lists," Peppers said. "It's not impossible. It's not impossible to have great seasons at a more mature age. People have done it. You've got the list right there.

“It’s been done. So to say that it can’t be done is not something that I believe.”

He's 34 years old (maybe you heard?), but Peppers — all 6 feet, 6 inches, 287 pounds of him — must be the answer for Green Bay. Thursday night. At CenturyLink Field in Seattle.

From the shadow of Lawrence Taylor at North Carolina to the No. 2 overall selection in the 2002 draft to the Chicago Bears signing him at $84 million in 2010 to, now, Green Bay — with its 13 NFL titles — Hall of Fame-level hype has trailed Peppers his entire football life.

His blessing is his curse. There's no one this large, this athletic, this agile in the game.

The Packers needed bite. Needed Peppers.

So here he is, reaching out with a bear-paw handshake. He's easily the most physically imposing player to ever sit in this leather chair near the media auditorium at Lambeau Field. Through an extended conversation, those four- and five-word sound bites you hear in the locker room are replaced with introspective honesty from a pro entering the twilight of his career.

He is 34. He was banished by the Chicago Bears. But the pressure, again, stalks Peppers ... all the way to Seattle on Thursday night.

"Yeah, it's a lot. It's a lot on it," Peppers said. "The thing that has helped me with the expectations is just placing them on myself before anybody else could. Always striving to be better. But even when you don't live up to your own expectations — or somebody else's — it gets tough."

Guard down, Peppers' voice picks up.

"Just people, it's really tough when somebody says, 'Oh, well, he could have been the best of all-time, but he was lazy.' Or 'He could have had 15 sacks when he only had seven or eight.' Sometimes, I'm just like, 'Well, what could you have done? You go do it.'"

The man

First, understand his past. Go back to his tiny trailer in Bailey, N.C. Peppers was raised by his mother there, and friends were sparse. For years, he didn't speak to his father, George Kurney, either. Dad was absent through middle school, high school, so Peppers shut him out.

Until about two, three years ago.

Kurney has his own problems — he was busted for cocaine possession in 2011 — but Peppers wanted his father in his life so they reconnected.

"You get older and you start realizing that people don't live forever," Peppers said. "You start letting bygones be bygones and try to cherish the time that you have left with people. So it was one of those things of, 'You know what, so what, he wasn't there as much as he could have been. But so what? It's my dad.'"

Five months ago, Peppers became a father himself. Bringing Elijah into the world further reminded Peppers he made the right call. His separated mother and father — who never saw eye to eye, Peppers said — were both present. They shared a moment.

Dad will be at CenturyLink Field, too.

"It's getting better," Peppers said. "It's getting better."

So what's beyond this physical specimen that had coaches and players gushing all summer, beyond the 118 1/2 career sacks? Truly, what makes Julius Peppers tick? His eyes slant. He purses his lips. For 13 seconds, Peppers is silent.

Basketball was a first love. Football is fun, too. But traveling, exploring different cultures, might be Peppers' No. 1 passion. Puts the burden of expectations into perspective.

"We're so fortunate to live in America, a free country," Peppers said. "We can do whatever we want to, really. Say whatever we want to. Believe whatever we want to. And other places are not like that. In certain places, you are basically institutionalized where it's, 'You've got to believe this and do this and say these things' or you get killed."

So as all hyperanalyzed how Peppers would fit into the Packers' defense, he escaped. Before training camp, Peppers spent time in Egypt and Israel.

He left Israel in the nick of time, too. Less than a week later, airstrikes began in the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip.

"When I go to these places, I try to put myself in these people's shoes," Peppers said. "Like, 'OK, what if I had been born here? What if I lived here? How would my life be? What would I do? What would be my purpose?'"

In Green Bay, his purpose is clear: prove he can still play.

The player

Without hearing "34," Peppers brings up "34." That's his age, the red flag that his career is about to reach a screeching halt.

Opponents gashed the Bears for 5.3 yards per carry in 2013, the NFL's worst run defense since 2006. Peppers lacked pop. He didn't have a sack in 12 of the 16 games. Scouts questioned his desire. The freak from Carolina was fading, so the Bears released Peppers and his $13.9 million salary.

Unprompted, Peppers steers this conversation a new direction.

"It wasn't, all of a sudden I turned 34. Or I turned 33, I was 33 last year at the time," Peppers said. "OK, I turned 33, all of a sudden I don't have it anymore? That's what people are going to say. That's what they said. That definitely wasn't it."

He understands that with enormous contract comes enormous responsibility. That's been the backdrop to his career.

"So if people want to blame me for everything that went wrong on defense last year," Peppers continued, "so be it. That's fine. It's somewhat of a responsibility to take the fall when things happen to the part of the team you're supposed to be the leader of."

What went wrong? Peppers points to "injuries, loss of key personnel, loss of key coaches." All of it compounded. Peppers said he never spoke to anyone in the Bears front office prior to the release. They moved quickly, quietly. He's not sure how coordinator Mel Tucker could have used him better. The 2013 was very frustrating, though.

Doubts built for the first time. And those doubts irritate Peppers.

He's no fan of the assumption that, at 6-6, 287, he should rag-doll tackles on demand.

"It's not as easy as people think it should be all the time," Peppers said. "So if I should go out every game and have one or two sacks, then what about the guys I'm playing against? Are they there to serve me and help me get whatever I'm supposed to get?

"I've done a good job of blocking it out. But if I actually listened to everything that everybody said about me, I'd be going crazy right now. It gets tough at times."

There was immediate interest after the Bears let him go. Peppers probably could've gotten more guaranteed money, more guaranteed years elsewhere.

Yet after four days as a free agent, he signed with Green Bay to a three-year pact that — by his and the team's design — is actually a year-to-year decision.

The agitation leaves Peppers' face. He smiles. Briefly, he envisions how this career could end.

"Who's to say," he said, "after this season — after we win the Super Bowl — I wake up in the morning and say, 'You know what? I don't feel like playing anymore.' ... We both can walk away whenever we feel we don't want to be in it anymore."

The future

The slow-motion image of the Patriots' Adam Vinatieri splitting the uprights with a 41-yard field goal on Feb. 1, 2004. The sight of Green Bay's Sam Shields swiping away a ticket to the Super Bowl on Jan. 23, 2011.

He doesn't consciously replay these memories. Subconsciously, however, they're having an effect.

Said Peppers, "I see myself being able to hold the trophy one of these days. I think it's in there somewhere, that that's what keeps me going."

A listed outside linebacker, Peppers will migrate throughout the Packers' front seven. Thursday night, defensive coordinator Dom Capers finally unwraps the unknown. To date, Peppers has been spotted sprinting past another No. 2 overall pick (Greg Robinson) from right end to tattoo Sam Bradford and smoking nine-year veteran Kevin Boothe on a power move inside from an upright stance.

He didn't look 34 then.

Words such as freak, physical specimen and special flow repeatedly from teammates. Peppers has caused jaws to drop since May.

Asked why Green Bay is a good fit, Peppers cuts in with a different word.

"I think it's a great fit," he said. "I think it's an ideal situation. I couldn't have asked for a better situation to be in, with everything. Not even talking about the offense, not even talking about Aaron (Rodgers) and having not to worry about that. That speaks for itself."

Peppers repeats that he always wanted to play in a 3-4 defense since he left Carolina. Opposite Clay Matthews. Twisting on the same side as Matthews. It's about creating mismatches and dictating what the opponent's offense does.

He didn't have that in Chicago. And the Packers sure didn't have that in 2013.

"It's not necessarily about 'What are they going to do to us?'" Peppers said. "It's 'What are we going to do to them and how are they going to respond?' I think it's the perfect fit, being able to do what I want to do, play with the guys that I want to play with. And just be on a team that has a real chance at winning."

Chicago let him go, moved on.

Painted as a scapegoat, Peppers bites his tongue. Mention the Bears ... sweet revenge ... a chance to prove a former employer dead wrong, and Peppers doesn't take the bait.

Instead, he brings up the Seattle Seahawks. For him, for Green Bay, meeting expectations starts here.

"They are the champs," he said. "They're the best team in football. Those are the games I want to play. I want to play against the best teams."