9810150203
DETROIT FREE PRESS
981015
Thursday, October 15, 1998
METRO FINAL
1E
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1998, Detroit Free Press
JOHNNIE MORTON RUNS HIS OWN ROUTE
The sun always shines on Johnnie Morton. That's because he has it tattooed on
his back. Really. A massive, yellow and orange tattoo of a burning sun,
stretching between his shoulder blades. He got it a few years ago, for no
particular reason, he says, except that "the sun is life-giving." Of course,
this sun took five hours of excruciating needles. And Morton doesn't like
pain.
But that's exactly the kind of thing he does. Things you can't figure out. And
I have been trying to figure out Johnnie Morton for a while.
For one thing, he doesn't move like the other players. While they skulk back
to their lockers, Morton shadowboxes and karate-kicks.
And then there's the way he talks. While other players chat about play-action
passes, Johnnie and I had this exchange Tuesday:
Me: "What about a West Coast offense?"
Morton: "I don't know anything about it."
Me: "The West Coast offense?"
Morton: "I heard about it."
Me: "You heard about it?"
Morton: "Do they use a lot of short passes?"
Me: "You really don't know what the West Coast offense is?"
Morton (shrugging): "I'm not a big football buff."
That's Morton. A mystery inside an enigma inside shoulder pads. He caught a
98-yard touchdown pass last game, the second-longest in Lions history, yet he
caught only one other pass the whole afternoon. He has big games when he grabs
everything, then he has games where he drops more than he holds onto.
Don't misunderstand. He is a terribly nice fellow. Friendly. Philosophical.
It's true, he spaces out during conversations every now and then. But, hey,
he's from Southern California. Maybe he hears the ocean in his head.
The thing is, when it comes to football, Morton should be a major star -- at
least with the Lions. It's simple math. Opposing teams use eight men to deal
with Barry Sanders, right? And they put two men on Herman Moore? That's 10
defenders right there.
Which leaves only one guy to deal with Morton -- and Morton is fast! I mean,
track star fast. Shouldn't he be a 20-passes-per-game receiver? Shouldn't he
be leading the league?
"To be honest," he says, "I didn't even know how you got into the playoffs
until last year."
OK, maybe not leading the league.
He's a multicultural man
Johnnie is ...different. He's a fifth-year receiver out of Southern Cal who
loves "running fast and catching the ball." And that's about all.
So he doesn't really memorize the names of defenses. And he doesn't always
know what they call this or that coverage. "Even in college, when someone
yelled 'Three Sky!' " he admits, "I didn't know what they were talking about."
He doesn't put black under his eyes at home and growl at the mirror. He used
to look at linebacker Chris Spielman and shake his head.
"Chris was like straight football, son of a coach, the whole thing," Morton
said. "For me there have always been two paths..." He holds out his hands, one
left, one right. "Football," he says, "and life."
At this point, I back off, in case Johnnie is going to start sounding like a
member of the Zen Surfers again.
But then, you have to understand that when Morton does that, he's being true
to his roots. He did not have your average upbringing. The son of a black man
and a Japanese woman, Morton tiptoed between cultures his whole life. During
the week he went to a predominantly white elementary school in Los Angeles. On
Saturdays, he went to Japanese school, to satisfy his mother's desires for a
Japanese education.
"Did you learn to speak Japanese?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Can you speak it now?"
"No."
"But you're half-Japanese."
"Oh, yeah. I'm as much Japanese as I am black."
"Have you ever been to Japan?"
"No, but I think I'll be going."
He looks off into space.
"Yeah. I need to take a trip somewhere."
Come back to us, Johnnie. Grab the rope.
Still, NFL is a great life
Now, personally, I like guys who have more to them than lifting weights and
crushing heads. Herman Moore is into movies. Lomas Brown used to have a fruit
drink business.
So there's no law against Morton being into kick-boxing, appearing in music
videos, and thinking about, well, other things.
But it still seems like he should be a bigger part of this whole Lions
picture. Maybe the coaches wonder, "What makes Johnnie run?" as much as the
average reporter. Here is a guy who loves watching track but hates watching
football, a guy who lives in LA, but doesn't know the West Coast offense, a
guy who didn't know how you make the playoffs but wants to stay in the NFL.
"No matter what, football is my No. 1 priority," he says. "I take care of my
body, I never go out during the season, I watch what I eat.
"I'm smart enough to know this is like a fantasy. I mean, a job that pays you
millions of dollars to play a game and also gives you six months off?"
He smiles. "I want to maximize my time in the NFL."
What can you say? I can't figure the guy out. All I know is, the Lions will be
a much better team when he can be counted on, week in and week out, for big
plays -- especially when the defense stacks against Sanders and Moore.
In the meantime, he goes on, happily punching the air. I like the guy. In many
ways, he has an enviable life. Multicultured. Multi-talented. Besides, it must
be nice to know the sun never goes down on you. Unless you roll over.
To leave a message for Mitch Albom, call 1-313-223-4581.
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JOHNNIE MORTON;COLUMN