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DETROIT FREE PRESS
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Friday, January 28, 2000
METRO FINAL
1E
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 2000, Detroit Free Press
SUCCESS MAY YET SPOIL WARNER'S FABLE
ATLANTA -- "Come on, already. Don't you do
i>anything wrong?"
This question, which might be unique in the history of Super Bowls, was
actually yelled at Kurt Warner, the St. Louis Rams quarterback, earlier this
week.
Taken out of context, "Don't you do anything wrong?" might sound harsh. But
considering the previous 30 minutes with Warner, in which he talked about, in
no particular order, God, family, staying healthy, surviving three years in
arena football, God, getting cut by the Packers, working in a supermarket to
make ends meet, God, faith, moving to Amsterdam to play in the World Football
League, courting his wife, adopting her children -- including a son who was
blind and brain-damaged from being accidentally dropped on his head as an
infant -- God, making the Rams, getting the starting job in late August when
Trent Green got hurt, God, opportunity, success, earning the highest
quarterback rating in the NFL this year while making the league's minimum
salary, God, winning the MVP award, doing charity work, being satisfied with
who he is, hoping his team wins Sunday, through the grace of, who else, God,
whom Warner is really here to serve -- well, you can understand the question:
"Don't you do anything wrong?"
Warner simply smiled and shrugged.
"Sure," he said. "Lots of things."
I have the ending for Kurt Warner, the storybook ending to his storybook
season. It involves winning the Super Bowl, yes, but that is not the ending.
It involves throwing the winning pass and being carried off on his teammates'
shoulders, yes, but that is not the ending, either.
It involves a trophy, a fist in the air, the tears of his wife, the champagne
in his hair. All that, too. But that is not the ending.
The ending goes like this: He wins the Big Game -- and disappears forever.
An inspirational story
Now, I know this might sound one part Hollywood, but it is nine parts real
world. The fact is, over time, fame and spotlight drag down everyone in
America, no matter how unusual. And Warner's story is not just unique, it is
so incredible, so inspirational, it deserves to be left alone, frozen in ice,
preserved like a fable.
How can any year top it? Come next fall, Warner, 28, will no longer be the
unknown. He will no longer be the unproven kid asked to step in when Green
gets hurt in an exhibition game, as he did Aug. 28, a knee injury that, at the
time, so devastated the Rams, coach Dick Vermeil recalls seeing receiver Isaac
Bruce "banging his fist on the ground and saying, 'Why? Why?' "
Warner will not stun opposing teams next year, leaving them whispering, "Who
is that guy?" -- as he did to the San Francisco 49ers in the fourth game of
this season, when he threw five touchdown passes and completed 20 of 23
attempts.
Warner will not earn the meager $250,000 he makes now. He will not be able to
say he's the poor man's MVP winner. He will not be able to walk down the
street, the best quarterback of the year, without people knowing his face.
He will no longer jolt us with his story. When he talks about working nights
in the supermarket, making $5.50 an hour, throwing rolls of toilet paper to
keep his arm limber, when he talks about living in a small apartment in
Amsterdam, walking through the red light district of drugs and prostitutes to
get to church, when he talks about covering a house in rose petals and making
an electric "Will You Marry Me?" sign to propose to his wife -- the stories
will no longer be new. They will not startle. They will not melt listeners.
Instead, people will wait for him to fail. They will watch next season's
quarterback rating and hold it up to this season's incredible numbers, which,
simply by dint of a tougher schedule, will be difficult to match.
They will watch how much money he earns, note the rise in pay, make mention of
whatever purchases he makes, house, car, stereo, as if he's violating his
image.
They will look for the slightest crack in the church-boy armor. And if things
don't go as well for the Rams next year, there might be a moment when he
snarls, or loses his temper, or gets tired of the same old questions, and
critics will quickly say, "See? He's different."
They will add to his tapestry -- and thereby diminish it.
And what a shame that will be.
From top, no place to go but down
Wouldn't it be better for Warner to finish this incredible run, and then say,
"That's it. I've been to the mountaintop. It can't get any better. Good-bye."
Wow! Talk about an instant legend! Who could ever touch that bar? To come from
the parking lot and win the Super Bowl? To join a 4-12 team as a backup and
wind up the most incredible player on the roster -- the Rams' or anyone
else's?
It would stand forever as fabulous folklore. It would take Robert Redford in
"The Natural" and render him an underachiever.
"I have never seen a quarterback mature in one season the way Kurt has,"
Vermeil said this week. "I mean, it's incredible. It's off the charts."
And there it should stay.
It won't, of course. Warner has worked his tail off to get here, and you can't
talk to athletes about story line; they just want to play. He'll come back
next season, win or lose, and he'll be another great quarterback in a league
that has a few of them. And if the balloon deflates a little, it will seem
like a lot.
This is how life works. The best you can do Sunday, if you're a Kurt Warner
fan (and really, if you're not, you probably have to explain yourself), is
wish him the best, re-check his resume, which shows one year as a Division
I-AA college starter, watch his wife in the stands, see pictures of his
adopted children, marvel at how such a big body and accurate arm could escape
the NFL for so many years, and listen to him when he says things like this:
"The biggest thing I've learned is that the Lord has a plan for me. I went
through everything I did for a reason. And I've become a better player and a
better person through the experiences I've had.
"I wouldn't change a thing. This is as good a script as anyone could have
written."
Even before the ending.
MITCH ALBOM can be reached at 313-223-4581 or albom@freepress.com. Catch
"Albom in the Afternoon" 3-6 p.m. weekdays on WJR-AM (760).
THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION MAY DIFFER SLIGHTLY FROM THE PRINTED ARTICLE.
COLUMN;SUPER BOWL XXXIV;KURT WARNER