8902160578
DETROIT FREE PRESS
891119
Sunday, November 19, 1989
METRO FINAL
1E
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO EDITION page 1E
Copyright (c) 1989, Detroit Free Press
BO SAVED HIS NO. 1 HONOR FOR JUST THE RIGHT PLAYER
MINNEAPOLIS -- Four years ago, Greg McMurtry sat at the kitchen table in
Brockton, Mass., across from a football coach named Bo Schembechler.
"If you choose Michigan," Schembechler said, "I'm gonna let you wear No.
1."
"OK," McMurtry said. "Great."
The kid had no idea how flattered he should be. No. 1 had belonged to
Anthony Carter, the Wolverines' star receiver, the jewel of Schembechler's
eye, his favorite, the best player, he said, he had ever coached. From the day
Carter left for the pros, his No. 1 had been tucked away, like flower petals
in a scrapbook. Jim Harbaugh's number was handed out the year after he
graduated, to some freshman quarterback. And Jamie Morris' number was gone by
spring football of his senior year. But Carter. Ace. No. 1.
That was almost holy.
"I figured Bo was offering that uniform to at least 10 other recruits,"
McMurtry recalled Saturday. Not at all. He was just waiting, he would admit,
until someone special came along.
McMurtry fit the bill. Never more than on Saturday afternoon. Did you see
him out there against Minnesota? During the second quarter -- in a single
10-minute stretch -- he caught three touchdown passes, worth 108 yards, and
spun a must-win game for U-M from "close" to "rout." Three touchdowns? In 10
minutes? The balls were coming his way like metals to magnet. He held up his
hands and whomph! Another six. A 49- yarder. A 34-yarder. A 25-yarder. End
zone. End zone. End zone.
No. 1.
It was a record performance, a quick kill; only one receiver in Michigan
history, Ron Kramer, an All-America, had ever caught three touchdown passes
in a single game (1955), and nobody had done it in a single quarter. The
Minnesota defense was left staring at McMurtry's back, wondering how a man
could make himself invisible like that. His routes were precision. He made
scoring look like delivering the mail.
"Do you just get a feeling on days like these?" I asked McMurtry as he
dressed, after Michigan marched to within one victory of the Rose Bowl,
routing Minnesota, 49-15.
"Yeah, you do," he said. "The ball feels extra sticky. Every route you run,
you're thinking positive, like 'Here comes another one. Here comes another
one.' "
Seven catches, three touchdowns, 165 yards. Remember this day, folks.
Sometime soon, McMurtry will be a star in the pros, and people will be
saying, "Where did this kid go to school?"
No mystery here. I have always felt McMurtry is the best athlete on this
team -- and one of the least utilized. He has great speed, marvelous leaping
ability, and a hatred for dropping the ball, any ball. But because they run
first, pass second, the Wolverines have sipped McMurtry like champagne,
instead of guzzling him like beer. He makes the big plays, but not the
frequent plays.
And, like most good Michigan men, he waits his turn. His freshman year,
there was Harbaugh, Paul Jokisch, John Kolesar. His sophomore year, Morris, a
running back, was the offensive workhorse. Junior year, there were Tony Boles
and Leroy Hoard, grinding it out.
"I sometimes wonder what I might do at a school like Houston," he said,
folding his arms across his now-bare chest. "I guess I'd catch a lot more
passes. But we wouldn't win like we've won since I've been here."
And that was the Michigan pitch. We may not throw all the time, but when we
do, they'll count. And chances are, you'll see a few end zones.
He saw a few Saturday. Heck, he could have established residency. His
first score was a lofty bomb from Michael Taylor that hung up too long.
McMurtry had to slow down, two defenders flanked him, but he went up between
them and came down with the ball, as they fell away like Keystone Cops. He
tiptoed across the goal line. Touchdown.
Five minutes later, he ran a crossing route over the middle. Taylor zipped
it to him, on the number, and he braced for the inevitable crunch. It never
came. His feet were still moving, and next thing he knew, he had danced past
three defenders and was tossing the ball to the referee again. "Usually on a
route like that you take some mean hits," he said, "but nobody touched me."
Same went for touchdown No. 3, which he caught in the front corner of the
end zone, just staying in bounds, a 25-yard timing pattern. Up went the
referee's arms. McMurtry, a quiet sort, jogged back to the sideline.
"He's a fine athlete, isn't he?" Schembechler would say.
Nothing like an understatement, huh, Bo?
No matter. Wolverines fans should enjoy McMurtry while they can. He has but
two games left in a maize and blue uniform, this lean, smiling kid who turned
down $150,000 to play baseball with his hometown Boston Red Sox, choosing
instead to study and compete in Ann Arbor. You gotta give him credit for that.
And for accepting the burden of his uniform. Let's face it. You wear No. 1
and you're a target for something -- praise, laughter, jealousy. Or, in
Michigan, comparison. No. 1 will always be Carter here, the same way No. 77
will always be Red Grange in Illinois.
"To be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted it as a freshman," McMurtry admitted.
"The pressure and all. People come up to me and say, 'No one should have that
number. It should be retired.' I don't say anything back. I figure that's
their opinion."
"Would you like to see it retired after you're through?" I asked
He thought for a minute. "Nah," he said, "doesn't really matter."
Give it to some other young hopeful, some receiver the coaches figure will
one day be leaping in end zones and coming down with the football. And
bouncing off tackles. And running like the breeze.
And setting records. Carter may hold about three million bests in Michigan
football history, but on Saturday, McMurtry grabbed one for himself. Three
touchdowns in a single quarter?
"That might be," he said, smiling, "my best game yet."
No. 1 in your program, and doing it proud.
Mitch Albom's sports talk show, "The Sunday Sports Albom," airs tonight
from 9 to 11 on WLLZ-FM (98.7). Guests: Scott Hastings, Mike O'Connell.
FOOTBALL;U-M;COLLEGE