At 11:08 p.m. on January 22, 2002, upon my arrival in Southern California, the voicemail from Kyle Turley said:

"Seth, buddy. You’re finally in town, huh? Good. Listen, I’m picking you up tomorrow at 5 in the morning. We’re going surfing. Be ready! (Long pause.) Ahh, I’m just f---ing with you. I wouldn’t get you up that early."

This is a side of Turley that not many see, a sarcastic, funny, playful side. He may live in New Orleans for most of the year, work in New Orleans, and be loved in New Orleans, but at heart he's all Southern California. "I’m an hour from surfing and an hour from snow boarding," he says in his Riverside home.

What more could a man want?

Well, how about bedsheets? When he and his girlfriend, Stacy Harris, finally did swing by in his black Benz around noon the next day, the first order of business was to go to Ontario Mills Mall to buy bedsheets. He ordered some online a couple weeks ago, but misspelled sateen and they sent him satin sheets instead. "I jump on the bed and slide the f--- off," he says.

Kyle and Stacy shop cheap. They don’t go to Rodeo Drive; instead, to a TJ Maxx. Turley knows the value of money. His family moved around five times up and down the West Coast when he was a kid. His father, John, was a cattle rancher-turned truck driver-turned police chief. "When we moved to California," Turley says, "we were bankrupt."

So he keeps the spending down. Inside the store, he buys some house-decorating items, which total around $70. Stacy sees something she wants to buy her friend, a wall decoration for about $11. She pays separately. "She’s a very independent women," Turley says. After his first marriage -- in which he believes his wife, Kelly, was out for money -- he paid for everything. As he walked around the mall, he offered to buy her almost anything in every store. She declined every time. "He’s the most generous person I know," she says, "but he doesn’t need to buy me everything."

Later on, he would say, "See, things like that. That’s why I want to marry her."

Staying true to his SoCal soul, Turley loves malls. And movies. And whatever plastic gadgets occupy his attention. As we walked around the mall, he found plenty of them. He took a tour of the indoor skateboarding park. "It’s all I wanted to do as a kid," he says of boarding. "I didn’t even think I was going to go to college -- and this is when I was in high school. I just wanted to skate and surf."

Then it’s to a mechanical crocodile to pitch quarters in its mouth. Then it’s to sign up for a free Jet Ski. Then it’s to a candle store. Yes, it seems weird to imagine the Rifle-Armed Lineman himself looking around for candles, but he does. "Oooh," he says to Stacy, "smell this one."

Turley has some Hollywood in him. He wants to sell himself worldwide. He and his friend from college, Falcons tackle Ephraim Salaam, started a movie company called 4XL Productions. He’s started a clothing line, Trench Warfare. He has talked with some of his buddies from Slayer about starting a band on the side. And he switched from Nike to Reebok, where there are plans to blow his name up. "To me," he says as he sits on a mall bench, "I’m more marketable than a Randy Moss, because I’m not someone everyone despises."

That, of course, is open for debate. But not now. No, because now we’re heading to Moreno Valley High, Turley’s alma mater, for a jayvee basketball game. (His brother, Isaac, is a coach for the team.) He walks past the trophy case. "They’ve got a decent wrestling tradition now," the former All-State wrestler says. "I started the whole thing."

As he gives a tour of the school, he walks past his favorite class -- art. He gets on his tiptoes, peaking in through the windows at the student’s paintings on the wall. "Probably still got some of my stuff up," he jokes.

Many people wonder what Turley will do when he can’t turn people into human rubble every Sunday. He says he’ll act, paint, play guitar. He says not to worry. "You’ll hear from me," he says. "I’ll be around. Me and Ephraim got this script, this movie about a football team that sneaks a guy on board its flights, and he uses it to smuggle drugs. It’s an action film. It’ll be good."

As he walks toward the school, he points to the football field. "That’s where it all started -- right there. My coach always told me, ‘Make sure you’re on the camera.’"

Turley’s following the old man’s advice.

Seth Wickersham writes for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at seth.wickersham@espnmag.com.