Heisman Hopefuls
COLUMBIA, Mo. -- Students seem to recognize Brad Smith on the Missouri campus half a second too late. By the time they pass the Tigers' quarterback strolling across campus, something clicks, and they zip through their mental Rolodex before coming up with one of those, "Hey, aren't you ...?"
 | |
| Brad Smith might feel some Heisman heat from childhood friend Maurice Clarett.(Getty Images) |
But everyone figures there is so much more ahead. That includes yards, victories, bowls and celebrity status.
"A lot of people don't talk to me," Smith said of his jaunts across campus. "They might look kind of funny and then, it's kind of weird, especially when nobody says anything."
Missouri and college football aren't used to players like Smith. The history of Tigers quarterbacks is pretty much summed up by Paul Christman, who finished third in Heisman voting -- 64 years ago.
While the run-pass hybrid quarterback has become all the rage since Michael Vick made it fashionable at Virginia Tech, there are only a few since then who could be considered in the same class. Smith is one of them.
After winning the job, less than a week before the 2002 opener, Smith quickly showed in one season he was one of the best athletes in Tigers history. He threw for 2,333 yards and rushed for 1,029, breaking the school's single-season total offense record at age 18.
A season-opening upset of Illinois put Smith on national radar. A near-upset of Oklahoma (391 yards of offense in a 31-24 loss) kept him there. Only a 5-7 Missouri record kept Smith from busting out completely.
"He is the face of Missouri football," said Missouri sports information director Chad Moeller, whose job it is to promote Smith's exploits this offseason.
Moeller is wrestling with how to push a supreme talent for recognition in a Heisman climate where all the rules have been broken. The Heisman might be open to everyone, but there are unwritten restrictions: It almost always goes to a senior skill player from a major college east of the Rockies.
Things change. Last year, Carson Palmer became the first player from a West Coast school in 21 years to win the award. Ohio State's Maurice Clarett proved last year that a freshman is worthy of Heisman consideration. Had he stayed healthy, poll after poll of Heisman voters showed they would have legitimately considered him for college football's highest award.
Smith enters the discussion for this year's offseason Heisman Watch because Clarett entered it last year. Both are sophomores. Both players are from Youngstown, Ohio, and played against each other on sandlots and in high school games. Both once distributed campaign materials for Ohio Rep. Sylvester Patton. They play different positions for different schools and have different personalities, but there is no question their time has come.
Just don't look for Smith to further the argument.
"I haven't thought about me personally," Smith said. "Just as far as the award being for juniors and upperclassmen, I can see the merit in that. Having guys who stayed consistent throughout their years. It really shows how good a player is to be able to do it year in and year out."
Smith still has the humility of a sophomore but the talent of a guy who could leave for the NFL after this, his third year in college.
"I coached half-dozen NFL quarterbacks," said Missouri coach Gary Pinkel, who was under Don James at Washington. "I'd been around pretty good players before. He played at a higher level than any guy I've been associated with. Why? I don't know. He's got the right stuff."
That's the wonder/mystery/allure of Smith. A hip here, a swivel there and a quiet maturity that was evident Pinkel recruited him for Toledo at age 16.
"The only thing I didn't like about him is he almost seemed to too nice to be true," Pinkel said. "Your quarterback has to be a great competitor. You can't have Mr. Nice Guy in the arena. But he is dying to win in everything he does."
Pinkel might be the main reason Smith has gotten this chance on a national stage. Until Pinkel left Toledo and got the Missouri job before the 2002 season, Smith was being recruited by MAC and Division I-AA schools. The only other major-college program was West Virginia, which came in late. One of those mid-majors was Youngstown State, where Jim Tressel recruited Smith for the Penguins but not for the Buckeyes after moving to Ohio State a few weeks later.
Even in its infancy, Smith's story is almost too good to be true. The star who deftly dodges tacklers was born with a foot deformity. His early life was full of braces, corrective shoes and casts.
He grew up in Los Angeles in a happy family that was "semi-wealthy," according to a family friend. But the marriage between Sherri and Phillip Smith broke up. One day, for reasons she still won't discuss, Sherri took the three children to Youngstown.
It was there that Smith blossomed as an athlete. Coaches can remember him changing plays at the line of scrimmage when he was 10.
"When I was younger, they gave me the ball and said 'Run with it,'" Smith said. "In high school, they put the ball in my hands and told me to make plays."
Smith admires Joe Montana and Steve Young. Don't get excited. Smith is not comparing himself to those two Hall of Famers. He just keeps talking about their "efficiency," the ability to complete a lot of passes without a lot of turnovers.
The kid isn't doing a bad job at efficiency himself. The Missouri offense led the nation last year with only 11 turnovers. Six were Smith interceptions, against 15 touchdown passes. But what makes Smith special is his ability to pull the ball down and improvise.
"It's just kind of a feeling," Smith said. "You see an opening and think, 'I can get 10 yards on this play.' You have to feel it. It's hard to explain. Once I'm out there, I don't remember what I do."
Smith isn't quite sure how he got his faith, but it is genuine. There is a calmness to his demeanor born of a belief in a higher power. Smith has been asked by several churches in Columbia to speak about that faith. After seeing the 6-foot-2, 205-pound specimen dodge tacklers, think how much church-goers were impressed with a teenager spreading the word.
"That's who I am," he said. "That's what I'm about, realizing how God has blessed me."
Smith grew so close to church officials in Youngstown that Pinkel and defensive coordinator Matt Eberflus had to face a unique screening process to get their prize. A committee of seven family and church members had checked out Pinkel and his program when he came to the church to make his pitch.
After a two-hour interview process, Pinkel said, "(The church elder) looked at me dead in the eye and said, 'Coach you have no idea what you have here.' I've recruited for 25 years and never had anybody do that to me. We drove away, and I mentioned that at the end it might make a great story some day."
It already is a great story, one that is just now being told. Drive by the Tigers practice facility on any given night and watch Smith pitching it around with teammates. Coaches passing by in their cars late at night have seen a lone figure in the indoor practice facility throwing footballs into a trash can from a distance.
They are able to recognize Smith. A campus and nation await.
