For the most part, it’s the cookies I will remember most.
It was September 1st, 2012, and I sat by myself, eyes fixated on the TV in the press room, high above the multi-colored turf of Autzen. It was my first on-site coverage assignment, and I was going to make the recap of Oregon-Arkansas State the most talked about piece of journalism that had ever poured through the cracks of this state.
It wasn’t. And looking back, my mind still drifts towards those little bites of something I can’t describe; fluffy, buttery, with just the perfect amount of frosting.
Those cookies still resonate today.
That night also marked the debut of Marcus Mariota and, in reality, 20 years from now, that will be slightly more prominent in my mind. Because it was that night, under the casted, illuminated shadows, when his legend began.
It was, as we will find out next Saturday when the Heisman finds its way to his hands, the beginning of something more than special.
But don’t take my word for it. Take, for example, his head coach, Mark Helfrich. He should know, because there he was, visiting the beautiful islands of Hawaii in 2010 to recruit another player, when he saw something in the lanky, 6’4″ kid who had yet to start a game for his high school.
He gave him a chance and the rest, as they say…is history.
After Mariota helped the Ducks defeat the Arizona Wildcats on Friday to secure the team’s fourth Pac-12 Championship in six years, he sat side-by-side with the man who gave him his shot. Per usual, Mariota was quick to pass praise.
Helfrich wouldn’t let him.
“If this guy isn’t what the Heisman Trophy is all about,” he said, “I’m in the wrong profession.”
He will win it, and it could be by a record margin.
For much of the country, the award will appear to be handed down due to his on-field antics; his sprawling, ducking, diving methods, and his gaudy stats.
They would be right. But they would be missing the other half of the picture.
They would be missing the people who have passed him on the street, only to be greeted with a smile and a shy “Hello.” They would be missing the interns, the young men who work their tails off for the Oregon football team, who sing the praises of Marcus, as he makes them feel just as much a part of the team as he is.
They will miss the half of the story that people around the state of Oregon already know, and won’t soon be forgotten. They will miss the fact that as good as Marcus is on the field, perhaps he is even better off it.
His on-field performances have earned him the Heisman. His off-field behavior only justifies it.
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I was driving home from school last December, rain splashing off my windshield as I drove too fast down a blurry highway, wipers flying a million miles an hour. I was pushing the limits because word has just come through the speakers. It was official, but the ramifications not yet realized:
Mariota was returning for his junior year.
I knew instantly that it would make the team better. I knew it meant good things for Helfrich, a man I greatly enjoyed, yet was in the middle of a public pounding for, gasp!, suffering two losses in Year One. What was not clear, however, was just how much one kid — who no school wanted out of high school — would turn a state, and a sport, on its head.
But that’s what Mariota did; not because he did outlandish things, or was transcendent in the personality department. He accomplished it being a parents dream, and a rivals nightmare. He made fans from other teams simply shake their heads and say “damn,” because he did nothing wrong.
He patted the rear-ends of opposing players. He high-fived scout-teamers who got to smell the field and taste the glory in front of a live crowd.
And he did it all, that perfect SOB, in a way that cannot be described, and will not be appreciated, until long after his time has ended. The stats will live in print: 10,000 yards and over 100 touchdowns. His name will be on plaques, Heisman’s and potentially a national title. Those are in the now, and will be shared with teammates and coaches, faculty, fans and the like.
But it’s the other part of Mariota, the part that WE get to see on a daily basis, that will live on, will transcend his time on campus.
So, until it ends sometime next month, we should live in a bubble. A bubble that is filled with highlights and speeches by a kid who doesn’t get how good, how rare he is. Perhaps that, above all else, is what makes Mariota one of a kind. He doesn’t believe the hype, because it’s not what’s important to him.
He may not see how special he is. For the rest of us, however, it’s as crystal clear as the trophy he is still aiming for.
Gunderson Sports 