Iconic Buccaneers fan 'Big Nasty' peels off the pounds

Living large is what Keith Kunzig is all about.

As a kid playing in the Seminole Junior Warhawk football league, he was hefty enough to play against kids who were two and three years older.

In college, he would plow through three plates of food at each meal, bulking up for a spot on the team's defensive line.

And Kunzig, 42, of Seminole, is such a huge fan of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, he became the boisterous "Big Nasty" -- a hulking, 6-foot-3, tongue-wagging creation in red and black makeup. The character is so well known, he was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2001.

But fans at Bucs training camp last month did a double-take when they caught sight of the local sports celeb. His massive frame has been shrinking to the point that fans are wondering if he'll change his nickname to "Not-So-Big Nasty."

The transformation is the result of adjustable gastric band surgery Kunzig underwent after the 2005 season, along with his wife, Debbie, 38. Their weights - 426 and 276 pounds, respectively - were threatening the couple's physical and mental well-being.

The turning point, Kunzig says, came as the pair left a late-season game at Raymond James Stadium and Big Nasty's legs collapsed under his morbidly obese frame. He stayed on the ground several minutes as blood circulation returned to his legs.

"When that day happened, I said, 'We've got a problem.' Because if I can't walk, how am I going to work, and how am I going to support my family?" he says of the experience, which left his alter ego embarrassed but not hurt.

"Yeah, it's great to be a Bucs fan and all. But [without addressing the weight], how would I even be able to do all that?" he asks.

In the last three years, Keith has shed 154 pounds, and Debbie, who is 5-foot-7, lost 123. Inspired most by the desire to be around for their daughter, Destiny, 10, the couple don't regret taking out a second mortgage to pay for the surgery, which costs roughly $15,000 a person.

The surgery, also known as the lap-band procedure, restricts a person's food intake by reducing the stomach pouch to about the size of a thumb, the National Institutes of Health says. While it is reversible, many people live permanently with the band, which dramatically reduces the amount of food they can eat.

"I'm not the kind of guy that likes to be restricted, but I need to be restricted on the quantities," says Keith, who works as a financial planner. "That's my problem."

Debbie says portion control had always been an issue for the couple, who met when they both worked at a local fitness center. They didn't pare those portions down when their workouts were replaced by more sedentary jobs, a baby and a busier lifestyle.

"We would go to dinner and you would have the soup, the salad, the appetizer, an entrée, and then you've got to have the dessert," she says of the old routine. "So it just crept up on us, year after year after year."

Today, she cringes when looking at their wedding pictures or one of the dozens of framed pictures of them with Buccaneers players and coaches that hang in their den. "You look at the pictures and you think, 'Wow. I really looked like that?' Because inside, you didn't feel you looked like that," she says. "I thought I looked good."

By the 2005 season, both Keith and Debbie - who dresses for home games as "Mrs. Nasty" - were finding it more difficult to enjoy the games. Big Nasty's voluntary role required that he stop and pose for pictures with fans and lead his section in cheers. He didn't mind, but his girth was making it difficult.

"This is a pain where you can't walk real far, or it's a pain because then you get embarrassed because you are sweating everywhere," he says. At some games, he says, he would drop 10 pounds from sweating so profusely.

Debbie says it got to the point that they would get to a game and go straight to their seats. Big Nasty would stand and lead cheers throughout a game, but he would be black and blue where his legs had to squeeze in and out of the armrests each time.

"Now, he'll get up and he'll run up and down the stairs," she says.

The Kunzigs say they have been able to maintain their weight, but they struggle at times when their stomachs reject certain foods, such as breads. They also say it's hard to set a proper nutrition example for Destiny, who is growing and has decidedly different eating needs than her parents.

The tradeoff is worth it, however. The family spends a lot more time together, swimming or going out to do something other than eat. Game day, Keith says, is a blast. He is able to mingle with fans and his cohorts - dubbed the Nasty Krewe - far more now.

And he's not bothered by fans who say to him he needs to put back on some pounds. The Big in Big Nasty, he says, is all about personality.

"But 275? That's still a pretty big cat," he says and smiles. "So I don't feel too small."