A No. 1 moment for the top 10
The Buckeyes' Troy Smith beats adversity to become the best in college football
Saturday, December 09, 2006 Story by Doug Lesmerises
Plain Dealer Reporter "Uncle Troy! Uncle Troy!" That's what 3J said. He's 4, named for his father, his great-grandfather and his uncle: Jesse Joseph James. The James, that's for Troy James Smith. Three-J knows his uncle is No. 10 in the red jersey. When the family parked at a rest stop on their drive from Cleveland to Columbus for the Michigan game Nov. 18, they didn't know what to think when 3J started yelling for Troy while they were racing for the bathroom. Three-J was pointing to a USA Today box. Uncle Troy was on the front page. What if you saw Troy Smith as 3J does? Without a past and always larger than life in the moment. When No. 10 in the red jersey lets loose that right arm, there are 3J's throughout Ohio, able to muster nothing more than a "Troy!" Thirty touchdowns, five interceptions, 12-0 record, No. 1 ranking, college degree, a lock to hear his name when the Heisman Trophy is handed out at 10 minutes before 9 tonight. Nearly flawless. A trust has developed in No. 10, the same feeling that envelopes 3J when Troy sneaks back to Cleveland from Columbus -- popping in without ever calling ahead -- and plops down on the couch with him to watch "Toy Story" or "Finding Nemo." You'd think they were father and son. Same smile. Why would 3J see anything other than a 22-year-old man who's a hero to his family, and on those scarlet-and-gray Saturdays, to an entire state? Three-J knows nothing of boosters and suspensions, of elbows and expulsions, of that time when No. 10 was just a kid and couldn't live with his mother for four years. Three-J knows only what he has seen. He has no questions about how so much could have changed so quickly, how a kid who has made public mistakes could shrink his world and check his ego and pull on a cloak of infallibility. There are no doubts, only a sense of wonder. Brittany, 3J's mother, is finishing her nursing degree while working at the Cleveland Clinic. One day a patient, not knowing he was speaking to the quarterback's sister, pointed to Troy on a magazine and said, "Isn't it amazing what he does?" Said Brittany, "He's been doing it his whole life." Life without mom
What if you saw Tracy Smith as her son does? Forgiven for what came before, but held tighter because of how it was.
Inside his townhouse in a Columbus suburb, the last thing Smith looks at when he walks out the door is a picture of his mother, his good-luck charm. The son has released his past because as a family, they freed their mother of hers.
Troy's life wasn't always whole, not with his biological father out of his life and Tracy heading that way. For four years, Tracy Smith, battling drugs, had to let her children go, and Troy found most of what he needed with his Cleveland Municipal League football coach, Irvin White, and his wife, Diane, who became his foster parents.
"My foster parents did a great job in raising me," Smith said, "but it still wasn't my mother, you know what I mean? Every kid wants his mother."
The family is vague on the whys, and you might be, too, when the past feels so distant. Between 1994 and 1995, Tracy was convicted for possession of crack cocaine and spent three months in jail, according to Cuyahoga County court records.
"It wasn't exactly the ideal life you'd want for a kid early on, because we had to struggle and fight for everything we had," Smith said. "We had to put forth extra effort to get food, to keep the lights on, things like that. We were without a car, so we traveled everywhere by bus."
While Tracy struggled, Troy would take his ball and go to DuPont Park or the basketball court behind what the kids called The Church.
"In my household, when things weren't going right, I would stay outside for hours and hours at a time," Smith said. "I would be outside from 11 a.m. to 10:30 p.m., just to stay away from the stuff that was going on in the house. And that's what we were doing -- I was outside playing sports."
But when Tracy was ready and pulled together a life in disarray, Troy and Brittany came back to her. It wasn't magic right away, but it was life.
"Both my children are old souls," said Tracy Smith, standing in her living room surrounded by photos, trophies and, on the wall behind the couch, two high school diplomas and Troy's Ohio State degree. "We all grew up together."
Tracy had given birth to Brittany when she was 16 and to Troy when she was 20. And while they had grown up during her absence, she was forced to be a mother to get them back, and they all found their way.
"At first it was tough, because I was so bitter and upset about her being gone," Smith said. "But things got better as the years progressed. And the thing she stressed was never be afraid to show me how you feel, don't hold anything inside."
Tracy worked in a truancy program in the Cleveland schools system, tracking down and inspiring kids who had given up on school for seven years before the program was cut. She's working now providing companionship, meals and medicine to the sick and elderly, though she's found a new job in education.
She has been in the stands in her No. 10 jersey each week, flipping Troy the double thumbs-up that has been their sign since muny league. Today, she's in New York for the first time in her life. And when Troy Smith hears his name called as the 72nd Heisman winner tonight, the first person he will think of is his mother.
"I just want her to sit back and relax and enjoy life," Troy said. "I don't think you should be tormented by tough things your whole life."
Building trust
What if you saw Troy Smith as Ted Ginn Sr. does? Alive with potential yet still seeking direction.
Smith doesn't have a relationship with his biological father. But after he was tossed off the St. Edward High basketball team his junior year for throwing a vicious elbow at an opponent, he came back to a school and a man who welcomed him home. You can't make enough mistakes for Ginn to give up on you.
Ginn will see your pain, decide what you need and force another chance on you, his way.
During Smith's senior year at Glenville High, with Ginn as his football coach, that included sleeping in the extra twin bed in Ted Ginn Jr.'s room when circumstances called for it. When Smith left for Ohio State, that included a key to the front door.
When Smith griped about his backup status early in his sophomore season at OSU, then later was suspended for two games after taking $500 from a booster, that included Ginn Sr. driving to Columbus for a face-to-face. "I had to fight with him, to say, This is not a dress rehearsal, this is your life,' " Ginn Sr. said.
But there is no limit to the chances, and never will be.
The cocoon Smith created in Columbus this year, a world of family, teammates, coaches and a handful of tight friends, came at Ginn Sr.'s urging. That came because the coach is still working on tearing down Smith's hard shell without exposing him to the world in the wrong way.
"I think he fought it, and I think he still has that. You don't know how to trust people. You trust somebody and they let you down," Ginn Sr. said. "It's hard to learn to recognize who's trustworthy and who's not."
Ginn Sr. sees amazing results in the work they've done, but knows the work is never complete -- that's the case with any father. And when Smith stood to speak at Ohio State's senior banquet Sunday about his parents, he spoke of Tracy Smith and Ted Ginn Sr.
"That's his daddy," Tracy said.
Troy Smith doesn't want to be defined by his past. But he says he wouldn't change it, because it made him who he is today -- that's straight from Ginn Sr.'s heart, too. For him, any player or student at Glenville can do what Troy Smith had done. And when you follow that path, Ginn Sr. will take that end product over anything out there.
"If I was trying to find me a warrior, would I find me a warrior in the suburban areas?" Ginn Sr. said. "No, I would find me a warrior down on the street, where you've got to walk past all types of situations and have enough sense to shy away from it and a become a great warrior. I know he can fight past it, because he's seen it."
Set priorities
What if you saw Troy Smith as he sees himself?
If only you knew how that was.
Tracy Smith rises from her couch and strides into her kitchen. That's where the magnet is, on the white refrigerator door, just below the freezer, holding up a Plain Dealer article about Troy. She's lived in this home since 2000, and the refrigerator, magnet attached, has moved with her. So the magnet's slogan isn't an Ohio State creation.
TEAM ABOVE SELF.
"That goes for his family team, his football team, any team," Tracy said.
But what of the grumbling two years ago when Justin Zwick beat him out for the starting job? That has given way to Smith cheering on the sideline when Zwick leads scoring drives in blowouts.
Has his success allowed him to revel in the achievement of others because he knows his place is secure? Is it the natural maturation that happens with any college student . . . an attitude he has assumed as a team leader? An act?
Smith's occasional bluster gave way to a nearly senatorial bearing straight from the Jim Tressel playbook. And every drop of praise or hint of Heisman talk Smith hears, he redirects back to the team.
Receiver Anthony Gonzalez remembers sitting at lunch with Smith this summer before the start of preseason camp, reading a college football preview magazine featuring Heisman candidates.
"I guarantee you you're going to win this thing," Gonzalez said. "I promise you you're going to win this thing."
"Man, I hope so," Smith said. "That would be awesome."
So Gonzalez made it one of his goals to help Smith achieve that. And Smith never spoke of it again.
"That's not lip service," Gonzalez said. "His thing has always been the team. And since this football season started, I never heard him talk about winning awards or going to New York to accept the Heisman. He's a team-first guy."
You just need to earn the right to see that for yourself -- through a 6 a.m. football team workout, or family blood, or a friendship that started in muny league.
"I would love to meet and greet and be friends with however many people I can be friends with," Smith said. "But not everybody is going to treat you the same, so you can't let everybody be a part of your life like that. If you do, you set yourself up."
So Smith is careful. Because in the end, who he is, is determined by how he is seen by the rest of the world. Their perception -- accurate or not, good or bad -- becomes his reality. It's his nephew, his mother, his father figure, his teammates, his coaches, 105,000 fans in the stands and millions more on TV.
Maybe some of them see into the heart of a boy who lost his mother and got her back, who made mistakes but found success. Maybe some of them don't. Maybe some of them only think they do.
Tonight, when Troy Smith stands up in New York, without a written acceptance speech, determined to speak from the heart, only he will truly know what's in there.
From the outside, everyone will see the same thing.
To reach this Plain Dealer reporter:
[email protected], 216-999-4479
They positively need to address their line needs though and could definitely use some young punishing legs like AP's. If our corners would stay healthy, we wouldn't have such a CB issue, though McCutcheon is getting older and past his prime anyways.