If Rypien Keeps Passing Tests, Schroeder May Be Passed Along

A trade of Jay Schroeder wouldn’t even be considered without lumbering Mark Rypien, the Washington Redskins quarterback-in-waiting whose only RFK Stadium pass was at a cheerleader.

That he eventually married this Redskinette named Annette is significant, because the Redskins appear about to create their own holy matrimony with Rypien, especially if Schroeder ends up with the Los Angeles Raiders or anyone else.

If they trade Schroeder, the Redskins would be giving a vote of confidence to Rypien, who would then only be an injury to Doug Williams away from the NFL fire. Coach Joe Gibbs has handed Rypien the football all pre-season, telling him: “Mark, make the decision (on which quarterbacks to keep) easy for us.”

Rypien’s engaging 16-of-27, 210-yard second half against Pittsburgh last week was a successful Phase I, but Saturday night’s nationally televised contest in Miami serves as an equally imposing springboard. Rypien was expected to get close to another half of work, and he suspects the Redskins are wondering, “Let’s see if Pittsburgh was fact or fiction.”

Even if it proves to be fact, Rypien knows any one of the three quarterbacks could go. With Annette seven months pregnant, Rypien wonders if he’ll be the odd signal caller out, for he recently bought a Virginia home on a 30-day contingency plan.

“You don’t ever take anything for granted,” he said. “I don’t want to buy a house (without a contingency plan) and have (the Redskins) give me an apple and a road map and send me on my way.”

Rypien is where Schroeder was three seasons ago, a swashbuckling kid with a clipboard whose warmup tosses bring a thousand sighs. His cumulative duties the past two seasons have been to keep Gibbs company on the sidelines, signal in the plays and look busy. Of course, one day while Gibbs wasn’t looking, Annette waved her pom-pon at Rypien, who winked and waved back, the rest being history.

“When I was in high school, it said in my yearbook my dream was to marry a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader,” he said.

The comparisons between him and Schroeder end with arm strength. Unlike Schroeder, Rypien can’t run. “Doug (Williams) is probably the same way as me,” he said. “We’re not world-class sprinters. I couldn’t run a 4.8 downhill from 35 yards, never mind 40 yards.”

And, unlike Schroeder, his passes tend to wobble to-and-fro. “I’ve been known to throw ducks,” he said.

Yet the raves come daily because at 6 feet 4,234 pounds, he has a Romanesque body, not to mention the lean Romanesque face-high cheekbones, closely cropped brown hair.

One of his most telling abilities is his courage to take a hit in the pocket. “He’s a tough sucker,” Williams said. Of course, that millimeter longer that he’s willing to wait in traffic enables Gary Clark or Art Monk to scamper free downfield, the results often being touchdowns.

And the other thing dear to Gibbs’ heart is Rypien’s uncommon maturity, gathered most recently from an offseason’s worth of trouble, when in June his beloved father died and Mark drove home to Spokane, Wash., to become the family patriarch.

Williams, whose first wife died of a brain tumor, often claims pain is for a person’s gain, and Rypien gained a few figurative yards for his performance at home. His father, Bob, was a native Canadian who played hockey and baseball and loved to fish.

After marrying, Bob settled his family of three boys and two girls in Calgary, then relocated in Spokane, where he took a number of sales jobs to support his troops. According to Rypien, often, they were wanting; often, he was laid off.

But Bob kept his sons going in sports. Mark, the oldest, threw an 88-mph fastball, was a 6-3 high-school point guard (playing against current Utah Jazz star John Stockton) and called his own plays as football quarterback. Two other boys, Tim and Dave, became accomplished baseball players, but were shorter and bulkier than Mark. Tim, a catcher, reached the AAA level with the Toronto Blue Jays organization before recently retiring; and Dave, another cather, is now traveling with the Canadian Olympic baseball squad.

But Bob Rypien drove Mark the hardest of all. Mark’s curfew on weekends was 1 a.m., and one night when he was watching TV with a neighborhood girl at 1:10 a.m., Bob drove by, shined his lights in the window and motioned Mark home.

Yet, when Mark attended Washington State, where he was stymied by a veer option running offense, Bob was his largest booster, a father who never missed a second of play.

So, it was this spring when Bob was laid off of work again, only his three athletic sons and his fishing pole to keep him going. His blood pressure often was high, Rypien said, so he stayed on medication. In early June, Bob went to a cousin’s wedding in his hometown of Coleman, Alberta, and didn’t even dance, though he’d always enjoyed dancing. The next day, he went golfing, but used a golf cart (and didn’t walk all 18) for the first time in years. Yet, he said he was feeling so great, he didn’t need his blood-pressure medicine. Trying to lose a few pounds, he went on an eight-mile walk.

“The Canadian air is making me feel super,” he told family members.

Then, on June 8 -- all by himself at the lake where he fished -- he collapsed and died of a heart attack. At age 52.

He was found 100 yards from the jeep Mark had just given him, grasping that fishing pole. “I think he died happy,” Mark said. “There were some fish in his bag.”

Mark found out when he’d been driving cross country to Spokane and happened to call his agent, Ken Staninger, who was beginning to negotiate a new Redskins’ contract for him. “Call your mom,” Staninger said.

“Why?”

“Just call.”

“Why?”

“It’s your father. He died.”

Mark Rypien immediately handed the phone to Annette and “went in shock,” he said. Driving 16 hours straight -- through to Spokane, he sobbed a lot, but the minute he entered the house, he divied up his support.

“He took over,” little brother Dave said this week. “He took care of mom.”

So, in the aftermath, Rypien has dedicated this season to Bob. “Since my dad passed away, I’m kind of setting my mind to go after” the Redskins’ starting job, he said.

Rypien was looking straight ahead now, sitting on a practice-field bench. “You know what my mom told me the day before he died? She said, ‘Mark, your father loves it up here in Canada. I don’t think he’s gonna come back (to Spokane).’ ” He paused for five thoughtful seconds and said, “But she didn’t mean for him to die. ... “

Then, all at once and probably for one of the few times in public, Mark Rypien’s tears flowed freely.