The name of the proposed place will be something like "The 7 Grill," to play on Roethlisberger's well-known uniform number.
They could just as easily call the place "Redemption."
A well-known athlete lending his name to a restaurant venture is nothing new. It happens all the time, something obvious in the presence of Jerome Bettis' Grille 36 in the same area.
It's usually a pretty safe investment. The player may put up some money, but often there's just an agreement to hand over a percentage of profits in exchange for using a popular name to draw customers to the place.
The news here is that Roethlisberger has sufficiently repaired his image to the point that a business with his name on it is a viable concept. People will willingly go to a place they associate with Roethlisberger.
It wasn't that long ago that Roethlisberger had two consecutive offseasons in which women claimed he had forced himself upon them. The second incident, which involved buying drinks for a college student who was not old enough to legally drink, drew the wrath of the NFL.
Roethlisberger was never charged with a crime. However, the league suspended him for the first six games of the 2010 season, a penalty that was later reduced to four games.
Roethlisberger was a virtual poster boy for the kind of creepy behavior and sense of entitlement that afflicts a lot of athletes who get too famous too fast.
Bill Cowher was enraged when Roethlisberger accepted an invitation to be a guest on David Letterman's show. Cowher believed that Roethlisberger's sudden celebrity had exceeded his level of accomplishment. Roethlisberger was free to make the trip to New York on an off day, but Cowher made it clear he didn't like it.
Roethlisberger wasn't widely liked within the Steelers locker room. By the nature of their job, quarterbacks are supposed to be consensus builders, leaders who find ways to help teammates bond and buy into a common goal.
Roethlisberger didn't care much about that. He was close with some of his linemen and tight end Heath Miller. His relationship with Hines Ward was notoriously frosty, and Bettis wasn't a big Big Ben fan, either.
Defensive players? Roethlisberger may have needed to consult a roster to match names to faces.
Things changed radically -- and for the better -- after the second offseason incident, the one in Georgia.
Whether it was inspired by outside influences or his own soul-searching, Roethlisberger became a new man. He repaired rifts in the locker room. He settled down and got married. He and his wife now have two children. Once deliberately distant and perfunctory with the media, he signed on for a weekly radio show and tries to be as candid as football paranoia allows.
If there have any missteps off the field, they haven't come to light. In an era of cell phone cameras and scandal-loving websites, it's hard to believe any significant misbehavior has gone under the radar.
He's a kinder and gentler Big Ben. The transformation has been complete, and it's admirable.
He's gone from a guy who gathered a posse and went crudely marauding through a college town to someone whose name is likely to be in neon lights atop a restaurant.
And people won't have any qualms about taking the family there for dinner.
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--JUST ASKING
What does it say about the state of college football when Notre Dame vs. Temple is suddenly a marquee match-up?
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--DOWN THE FLOW CHART
Ruben Amaro Jr. was fired after six years as the Philadelphia Phillies' general manager.
He has signed on to be the first base coach for the Boston Red Sox.
This is like going from being the ringmaster of the circus to being the guy who follows the elephants with a shovel.
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