ShareThisBy JOHN MCGRATH
Jeff George is my hero.
As quarterbacks go, he's never drawn comparisons to Bart Starr's poise, or Joe Montana's moxie, or Bob Griese's brains, or Roger Staubach's resourcefulness, or John Elway's passion.
But you know what? All those guys were retired before they turned 39.
Jeff George will be 39 in a few months, and while you get the sense he'd be perfectly happy if he never took a phone call from another general manager, the National Football League - the most successful and efficiently operated professional sports enterprise in the history of the world - won't let him be perfectly happy not taking calls from general managers.
The Seattle Seahawks signed him as a late-season backup in 2002, as did the Chicago Bears in 2004. On Monday, the Oakland Raiders became the third team to clear a roster spot for somebody who last appeared in a football game five years ago.
My hero.
I can relate to Jeff George in a way I can't relate to many other professional athletes. I mean, I hear tales of valiant rehabilitation efforts to overcome potentially career-threatening injuries - the countless hours spent in gyms and weight rooms - and while I admire such persistence, I also ask myself: Who are these people? Why aren't they content to cash in their signing-bonus money and confine their sweat to six-foot putts on the 18th green?
George is different. OK, he's got a rocket arm and I don't, and he's accumulated millions of dollars and I haven't, but the two of us are on the same wavelength.
When he quit Purdue after his first season, it reminded me of the time I quit my first summer job - mowing lawns for a small landscaping company - because the boss complained that my grass-cutting lines weren't straight enough.
When George transferred to Illinois - only to leave college a year early - it reminded me of the time I went to college and had to stay a year after all my classmates left.
When he appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated as the NFL's No. I draft choice in 1990, it reminded me of the time I almost made the cover of Sports Illustrated. (A photo of Michael Jordan in midair that contained a foggy glimpse of the press row beyond him. I missed the cover by two heads).
When George threw a hissy fit on the Atlanta sideline and got suspended by Falcons coach June Jones for the balance of the 1996 season, it reminded me of the time my fifth-grade teacher required me to write "I will not disrupt class" 100 times on the chalkboard.
When George bounced around four teams in four years - he went from Atlanta to Oakland to Minnesota to Washington - it reminded me of the time I arranged last-minute travel plans to fly from Seattle to Boston: There were layovers in Atlanta, Minneapolis and Washington, and it took almost four years.
But when George was acquired Monday by the Raiders, five years after throwing his last pass, it reminded me of, well, not much of anything. I can't imagine going into virtual hibernation for five years and being wanted.
That's why he's my hero. By doing nothing more exotic than hanging around his house and answering the phone, Jeff George realized the last and most grandiose aspiration of any man's life:
When you're no longer around, they're still thinking about you.
I can hear the conversation at Raiders headquarters between owner Al Davis and head coach Art Shell.
Al: "We're doing some salary-cap restructuring, and we need a backup quarterback who's not in anybody's plans for this season."
Art: "Sure."
Al: "Any ideas?"
Art: "Tommy Maddox?"
Al: "Any others?"
Art: "Jeff Blake?"
Al: "Keep thinking."
Art: "Rick Mirer?
Al: "We're getting warm. Keep thinking."
Art: "This may be out of the blue, but what about Jeff ... "
Al: "Perfect!"
Art: "Hostetler?"
Al: "No! I want Jeff George! He's a Raider! He's worn the Silver and Black!"
Art: "With all due respect, Al, he's also worn the Blue and White, the Red and Black, the Purple and Gold ... "
Al: "Let's get Jeff George! He's a Raider!"
Since he reported to Purdue almost two decades ago, George has infuriated coaches, baffled teammates and fueled cynics. He's argued, he's held out, he's sulked, he's issued demands.
But what the heck, anybody can make a mistake or two in college, and anybody can make a mistake or two after leaving college, and anybody can make a mistake or two everywhere he's been welcomed with open arms and a clean slate, only to detour the open-arm embrace and the mess up the slate.
Jeff George has done all that, and yet, the Oakland Raiders have determined he's worthy of a cushion job on the basis of ...
Who knows?
My hero.
