This Heisman Gathers No More Dust or Rust

Of the 56 Heisman Trophy winners, only three have been ends or pass receivers. All the rest have either run with or thrown the football.

So Tim Brown was very special when he came out of Notre Dame in the pro draft of 1988. He joined an illustrious company, the storied Larry Kelley of Yale, who caught 15 touchdown passes in an era--the 1930s--when five passes a game constituted an “aerial circus,” and Leon Hart, a bruising blocker and rusher who carried the ball (18 times) almost as many times as he caught it (19 times) in his Heisman year.

Brown was somewhat of an experiment for Heisman voters, who tend to be more dazzled by yards-from-scrimmage statistics. The guy with the football gets their vote. There has never been a pure lineman, a guy who tackles the guy with the ball, even seriously in the hunt for the Heisman, never mind winning it. Dick Butkus and Alex Karras were the only ones who even came close.

It used to be that Heisman electors cast their ballots without a care in the world. Contradiction was not in the cards. The crown wouldn’t slip. The laurel wouldn’t fade.

But with the flowering of pro football, a new element was introduced. The trophy didn’t exactly get tarnished, but the electorate got somewhat embarrassed when, say, Pat Sullivan of Auburn or Terry Baker of Oregon State tripped over the trophy in the pros.

The public began to notice when the voters put Jim Brown no better than fifth. They began to wonder why Gale Sayers could do no better than 12th the year John Huarte of Notre Dame won, or how come Archie Griffin could win it twice in a row, but Walter Payton finished 14th in the voting.

Tim Brown won his Heisman, in 1987, in a landslide, 611 votes over his nearest competitor, quarterback Don McPherson of Syracuse. (Bo Jackson won by only 45 over quarterback Chuck Long of Iowa).

But a lot of balloters were inclined to cover their eyes when Tim Brown joined a team, the Raiders, which was already lousy with (proven) Heismans. How could Tim Brown become a standout nationally when he couldn’t even make it in the team photo? The public could be expected to wonder out loud, “Who’s the guy standing next to Marcus Allen and Bo Jackson, and what does he do for a living?”

They might deny it, but Heisman selectors think long and hard about the professional prospects of their choices. It’s not like the old days, when one of them would let you off the hook by becoming a doctor or a lawyer. They got to go out there and match skills with the also-ran s. Doug Flutie was a great college player, but a little-known receiver named Jerry Rice from Mississippi Valley State finished ninth with only 36 votes to Flutie’s 2,240.

But Tim Brown not only had trailers like Lorenzo White, Thurman Thomas and Emmitt Smith, who finished fourth, seventh and ninth, respectively, he had the past Heisman winners breathing down his neck--literally.

A lot of eyebrows were raised when the Raiders took him in the first round. In addition to being lousy with Heismans, it was a team lousy with pass catchers. Mervyn Fernandez and James Lofton, no less, were on the premises.

But no one needed to blush for Tim Brown. He went out and led the Raiders with 43 receptions. He also led the league in kickoff returns and the conference in punt returns. He piled up the most total yards of any rookie in league history--2,316. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, he just needed the football.

Then, the nightmare of every speedster, Heisman or not, intruded. A pileup in the league opener and the next thing Tim Brown knew he had a staple where his knee had been and the doctors were not pondering when he could come back but if.

In college, Tim Brown was a 4.3-second sprinter and he ran the 200 in 20.7. He was as able to change direction like a hunted fox. He was a one-man football team. He caught 137 passes for 12 touchdowns, carried 98 times for four touchdowns, returned kicks for 2,098 yards and six more touchdowns.

And, suddenly, all he had were a trophy and a limp.

The Heisman is not exactly a hex. Neither is it a guarantee of immortality. Brown seemed about to join the fraternity of those for whom the Heisman was a climax, not a steppingstone. He might one day have to explain what it was and how he got it.

The league apparently thought so, too. They gave Tim Brown the ultimate kiss-off--single coverage. They were all over Willie Gault and Fernandez on pass plays. Those guys drew bigger crowds than the New England Patriots when they went out for a long one. They let Tim Brown drift around a zone.

Big mistake. All of a sudden, Tim Brown was one-handing touchdown passes in the end zone. He was out-distancing the slow-freight coverage the league thought was all he merited.

“I have become Third-Down Brown,” Tim Brown said with a smile in the Raider locker room Sunday after he almost single-handedly broke open the game the Raiders had to win against Cincinnati. “I go in on third and long and try to draw attention away from Willie and Mervyn.”

With his team trailing, Brown scooped in a low pass from quarterback Jay Schroeder for the tying touchdown. He locked onto a 44-yard pass for the go-ahead touchdown, and it was a 20-yard catch by him that moved the team toward the field goal that put the game out of reach for the Bengals.

“I’m not 4.3 anymore, but I’m not slow,” Brown told the microphones and minicams that surrounded his locker. His three catches and two touchdowns gave him 17 receptions and three touchdowns for the season. His punt returns gave him more than 200 yards for the season.

It was a Heisman day and it all came about after Heisman I, Marcus Allen, came up to Tim in the pregame warmup and reminded him he belonged to a very select group. Heisman winners don’t have a secret handshake or a coded ring or midnight rites in Latin. They’re not skull and bones. But they have group pride, notes Allen, who said he went up to Tim before the kickoff and said, “I think you’re going to have a Heisman day.”

Grins Marcus: “I knew Timmy was feeling frustrated and anxious. He’s my friend and companion, and I wanted him to know we had great faith in him. Besides, we Heismans have to stick together.”

Brown had a Heisman day. The voters can breathe more easily.

And if he has a few more, and shows up at a restaurant with Bo Jackson on one side and Marcus Allen on the other and someone wants to know who they are, the answer may come, “Well, the one in the middle won the Heisman. I don’t know who those other two guys are. Just teammates, I guess.”