Robo No More : Marinovich’s Image as the Ultimate Quarterback Was Tarnished by USC Gossip, Leading to Friction

Marv Marinovich spent 18 dedicated years preparing his son for the moment he could accept a football scholarship to USC.

He called it parental love.

Others called the special diets, the strict training regimen and an assortment of coaching experts excessive.

Groomed from birth to be an outstanding athlete, Todd Marinovich was preordained to be a Trojan. It was in the genes.

Marv was captain of USC’s 1962 national championship team. Todd’s uncle, Craig Fertig, was a Trojan quarterback from 1962-64, a former coach at the University of Oregon, and later, a USC and UC Irvine athletic administrator.

Marinovich entered USC in the fall of 1988, full of promise and prestige. He had graduated from Mission Viejo Capistrano Valley High as the country’s most prolific--and highly publicized--prep quarterback.

But already trouble was brewing.

He was reaching out , and I think a lot of us missed it.

Scott Ross

He had been dubbed “Robo QB,” the programmed All-American teen. But when Marinovich cut loose with his buddies at Trojan watering holes, such as the 502 or 901 clubs, that image took a beating. There was talk about his possible drug use.

His mother, Trudi Fertig, occasionally heard some of the drug-related nicknames her son was called. She confronted him with the rumors. He denied them and said he had no idea why people would spread such mean-spirited gossip. She told him to be careful, that some people wanted to bring him down simply because he was a famous football player.

When spring football practice opened in 1990, Marinovich knew that the coaches also were concerned. During spring drills, an organization affiliated with the USC athletic department, Champions for Christ, held its annual recruiting drive. Some of the football players and coaches participated in the group’s Friday night chapel services and pregame team prayers every fall. Teammates invited Marinovich to attend the spring outreach meeting.

After delivering a sermon, a representative asked if anyone wanted to become a member. Marinovich and Calvin Holmes, a defensive back, answered the altar call.

And later that year, Marinovich told a friend: “I want to fly straight and clean up my life.” He said he was going to stop partying, in preparation for the coming season.

But his spiritual devotion did not last. Marinovich never attended the Friday night services, never joined team prayers once the season began.

Life revolved around football and frat parties.

SEASON ON THE EDGE

I think Larry’s (Smith) gone crazy. I just don’t know what is going on here.

Todd Marinovich to his father on his status at USC during the 1990 season

Marinovich was college football freshman of the year in 1989 and led USC to a 9-2-1 record. Nonetheless, Coach Larry Smith described the quarterback position at the start of the 1990 season as questionable. The coaching staff knew it had one of the country’s finest quarterbacks, but considered his attitude a liability.

Smith, a disciplinarian, expected players to walk the straight and narrow. He was not going to tolerate Marinovich’s partying and lax approach to academics.

He manufactured a rivalry between Marinovich and reserve Shane Foley. Smith thought he needed to challenge Marinovich to galvanize him into performing on and off the field.

At first, not much was made of the situation. Marinovich delivered Trojan victories over Syracuse and Penn State. The Heisman Trophy and NFL draft became the focus of reporters’ questions. Marinovich, through a USC sports information office release, requested that reporters stop asking those questions.

Soon enough, they did. And when losses to Washington and Arizona eliminated USC from the Rose Bowl race, Marinovich’s celebrity faded.

With it went his interest in school. As a fine arts major, he found classroom settings stifling. Once inspired, he worked until a project was done, sometimes through the night. He spent more than one all-nighter finishing a mural at Julie’s Trojan Bar and Grill near campus, but for fun, not credit.

If the creative juices were not flowing, though, he skipped class.

Part of the problem involved his living arrangements. Because he had waited too long to apply for student housing, he did not get suitable on-campus accommodations. He wanted to move off campus, but had to wait until his assigned room was filled before he could be reimbursed. So he slept on friends’ couches, moving about like a nomad and attending classes less and less.

Smith waited until a game against weak Arizona State, then came down on him. Citing the missed classes, he suspended Marinovich for a week. Smith apparently hoped public punishment would embarrass Marinovich into accepting his responsibility. Marinovich accepted the suspension and sat for a week. But even though he knew Smith was right, it bothered him that other players had not been punished for missing classes.

He watched Foley lead the Trojans to a 13-6 victory at Tempe.

The next week, Smith waited until game day to announce that Marinovich would start against California. Marinovich thought the coaches were playing games.

Then came more trouble. Marinovich was late for a pregame quarterback meeting because he had a telephone call. When he arrived, the meeting room was locked. He knocked, but assistant coach Ray Dorr told those inside to ignore him. Marinovich waited until the meeting ended to talk to the quarterback coach. Dorr was terse, and Marinovich sensed his anger.

“I don’t think it is in the best interest to get in a player’s head on game day,” Marinovich said.

Said Dorr: “I just wanted Todd to do what all the players in my group did. That’s all I asked.”

The Cal game ended in a 31-31 Trojan disappointment.

In the stands at the Coliseum, Marv Marinovich was one of the most frustrated fans. He had been in a shouting match with other Trojan alumni who had booed his son. A complaint was filed and USC investigated.

Marv told Athletic Director Mike McGee: “I’m a fan. I paid for my tickets. What’s the big deal here?”

The elder Marinovich was moved to another section for the rest of the season.

Then Dorr and Todd clashed again the next week at Corvallis, Ore.

In preparation for a game against Oregon State, Marinovich wrapped his shoes in adhesive tape for comfort, then went out to warm up with the backs and receivers. Dorr told him to get off the field until he painted the tape black, so he would be color-coordinated.

The trainers had the paint in the locker room, which was some distance from the playing field, so Marinovich told Dorr he would paint the tape before the game started.

“Just let me warm up,” he said.

“Get off the field,” Dorr replied.

“It was difficult to play in that kind of environment,” Marinovich said later.

Dorr said he simply wanted all his players to adhere to team standards.

“USC’s tradition was to always wear black shoes,” he said. “I thought those things were established.”

Marinovich was lifted for Foley in the second quarter of the 56-7 victory over Oregon State. Neither quarterback was declared the starter for the UCLA game the next week until game day. Still, Smith told reporters: “I’m not a two-quarterback guy.”

Said Marv Marinovich: “It’s hard to tell who was the adult in that situation. It seemed like a destructive type of interaction was going on.”

Todd eventually got the call but said the uncertainty had made it difficult to relax the night before the game. He started slowly, but USC led after three quarters, 24-21.

Then, Marinovich and UCLA’s quarterback, redshirt freshman Tommy Maddox, went toe to toe like prizefighters, trading touchdown passes instead of punches. Marinovich had the last word in a 45-42 victory. After having endured weeks of conservative game plans that frustrated him, Marinovich had been given the chance to unleash a fast-paced passing game.

It didn’t last. USC reverted to a predictable offense the next week and lost to Notre Dame, 10-6.

Marinovich told his father: “It’s like going out there with my hands tied behind my back. Their (defensive backs) weren’t as good as last year, and we just burned them by throwing last year.”

If USC had won, Marinovich wonders whether he would have earned Smith’s praise. He felt the coaches downplayed his achievements.

“Sometimes ruthlessly,” he said.

Said Dorr: “He was on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Was that downplaying? He was a Heisman Trophy candidate.”

The coaches responded that Marinovich did not handle the obligations expected of someone getting such acclaim.

“When you’re in the eye of the public, you have a certain responsibility to fulfill, whether you like it or not,” Dorr said.

Marinovich felt otherwise. When the coaches berated him, cajoled him or lectured him, he tuned them out.

“I had to,” he said. “Otherwise, I would have gone nuts that whole year.”

Smith, who declined four interview requests, had other reasons to be disenchanted. The drug rumors had made their way to Heritage Hall. He called Marv and said he thought Todd was using drugs.

Marv asked for evidence. Smith had none, merely suspicions. They increased, though, when someone not affiliated with USC, but close to Marinovich, told Smith that Todd was cheating on the school-administered drug tests by using someone else’s urine.

Smith asked athletic administrators to test Marinovich each time urine samples were collected. He was tested 10 times within a year by USC and the NCAA. Marinovich never tested positive for illegal drugs.

Marinovich maintains that he never cheated on the tests.

“(Athletic administrators) were down there watching us (during the tests),” he said. “It makes them look real stupid if we were (cheating). I was open to anything (Smith) did. But there was something there that just wasn’t right between him and me.”

That was clearly evident during the John Hancock Bowl last Dec. 31 at El Paso. USC was trailing Michigan State late in the game when Marinovich was pulled. The Trojans then closed the gap to 17-16 with a field goal.

When the Trojans regained possession for one last drive, Smith called upon Marinovich. And from that point, the stories differ. Marinovich said he told Smith he would play for the team, not for the coach. Smith said Marinovich at first refused to play.

Their ensuing argument was shown on national television.

Marinovich played, but the Trojans did not score.

Smith justified the sideline drama, telling reporters that heated exchanges are commonplace during games.

But Marinovich took exception to Smith’s harsh words.

“Let’s just say his mother wouldn’t be proud to hear her son talking like that,” Marinovich said.

In the locker room after the game, Clarence Shelmon, then the assistant in charge of the running backs, approached Foley, who was sitting near Marinovich. Shelmon told Foley that he had played a good game and should have been starting all season. Scott Ross, star linebacker and a close friend of Marinovich, had heard enough. He grabbed Shelmon and pinned him against a locker.

Later, in an interview with Greg Sandoval of the Daily Trojan, Smith said he felt sorry for Marinovich.

“I don’t think he’s a bad kid,” Smith said. “He just needs a lot of help.”

Smith added, though, that when he had suggested Marinovich seek guidance from a campus counselor, Marinovich replied, “Naw, I can handle my own problems.”

STREETS OF FIRE

I used to come down hard on Todd because I used to hear things people were saying about him. I think it made him a little angry that I would think he would do those kinds of things.

--Lanie Spence, Marinovich’s high school girlfriend

Marinovich’s first course of action after the season was to escape the city. He drove to Northern California to a family friend’s ranch, where he hunted, fished and rode horses. Marinovich learned to handle a gun on the ranch. He disliked shooting animals, but went along to be one of the gang.

While he was away, Marinovich missed a mandatory meeting called by Smith. He also failed to register for spring classes. As a result, he was indefinitely suspended.

Already on academic probation, Marinovich would have been disqualified had he remained in school that spring. According to a Daily Trojan report, Marinovich’s cumulative grade-point average was 1.79 on a 4.0 scale. He had an 0.70 GPA in the fall of 1990.

But Marinovich wanted to stay and play. Some goals were left unfulfilled--a victory over Notre Dame, a national championship and a college degree. So he met with Smith in mid-January. Smith gave Marinovich a long list of items that needed to be completed before he could return. Top priority was correcting his academic deficiencies. Marinovich would have to sit out spring practice, if not the 1991 season.

“Todd is an intelligent young guy,” Dorr said. “If he wants to do something, he can do it. I’m not sure the handling of Todd Marinovich would have changed (his) situation because of his inner motivation (to play in the NFL).”

Marinovich went home to Balboa for the rest of the winter break to consider his future. It was sealed within a week.

On Jan. 19, a Saturday night, Marinovich was looking for something to do. He called his former girlfriend, Lanie Spence, who plays volleyball for the University of New Mexico, but was visiting her parents in Mission Viejo. Although they no longer dated, they were close friends. He suggested a movie. But they could not decide where to meet and never got together.

Instead, Marinovich went to neighborhood taverns near his home with Trojan players Craig Gibson and Adam Sweeney, and Marc Fertig, his cousin and Alpha Tau Omega fraternity brother. On the short walk home about 4 a.m., police stopped them yards from the house.

Officer Joe Heppler of the Newport Beach Police noticed Marinovich move his hands. He wrote in his report that he had thought the suspect was going for a weapon. He conducted a search and found about half a gram of cocaine and traces of marijuana.

Marinovich was charged with misdemeanor counts of possession of cocaine and marijuana. The family retained attorney Gary Pohlson, who handled some of Orange County’s biggest criminal defenses.

Pohlson petitioned Newport Harbor Municipal Court to allow Marinovich to enter a drug-counseling program designed for first-time offenders. Marinovich, who started counseling shortly after his arrest, was allowed into the program in April. The charges will be dropped next April if he avoids further criminal charges and passes regular NFL drug tests.

More than once, he wondered, “Is it worth all this?” He was embarrassed and beaten. The family was in turmoil and pointing fingers. Many newspaper letter writers and radio talk-show callers blamed his father, citing Todd’s unorthodox upbringing. A classic case of a son rebelling, they said.

The family fervently debated what to do next. Some said forget football, return to school. His father wanted him to try for the NFL draft. At 21, he was being pulled in opposite directions again.

But this time, he was close to ignoring everyone. If he caused this much family dissension, perhaps he would quit altogether.

“Just bail on everything,” he said.

Despite all the trouble, though, he decided that quitting football would be more difficult than continuing. He decided to focus on the draft.

He returned to his father’s gym in Anaheim and began repairing his body and mind. He signed with an agent, Mike Barnett of International Management Group, who helped rebuild the image.

And with the support of those he trusted, Marinovich regained confidence.

His 6-foot-4 frame started filling out and he felt good again. He trained feverishly. When draft day arrived, he was projected as a second-round selection. But Al Davis, owner of the Raiders, thought otherwise. He picked Marinovich in the first round, hoping the past was the past.

And gambling on the future.

A BALANCING ACT

These guys are playing a kid’s game, so why grow up? How couldn’t I fit into the situation? That’s me.

--Todd Marinovich on being a professional football player

After some negotiation, Marinovich joined the team at its Oxnard training camp. Marinovich, a pale, lanky, 22-year-old with stringy strawberry-colored hair, wore a baseball cap, T-shirt and baggy pants to camp. He carried a day pack over his shoulders, looking more like a kid going to a college class than a Raider rookie, and the older players teased him about being a surfer.

Marinovich, who lives a couple of hundred yards from the surf in Manhattan Beach, rides longboards before practice and on days off. He can hardly believe that he is being paid good money to play football--a signing bonus of $1 million and incentives if he passes all of his mandatory drug tests.

Yet the road to stardom--he is a reserve who has yet to play a down--is long and arduous. Marinovich is having a good time traveling it again, but knows there are potholes along the way. He frequents South Bay bars, but not as often as he did in his years at USC.

“I can’t help not to,” he said.

He has decided that the negative publicity and rumors of the past will not deter him from having a good time.

“Everybody who has run into me knows I like to go out and have fun,” he said. “I don’t think that is a negative aspect for a person to have.”

According to Manhattan Beach Police records, officers have responded to complaints of loud parties at Marinovich’s home four times since September.

The Raiders are quietly watching. On the road, Marinovich rooms with veteran Don Mosebar, a former USC star and strong family man. Mosebar goes to bed early, setting an example for Marinovich to follow.

“They’re not dumb,” Marinovich said of the Raiders.

And neither is Marinovich, who realizes he is sitting on the precipice. The next time he slips, people--and football--will not be as forgiving.

So, for now, his life remains a work in progress. He may turn out to be a masterpiece. Or merely another piece destined for an NFL garage sale.

Times staff writer Jerry Crowe contributed to this story.