When Marinovich Starts, Rivalry Comes to an End

I guess a winner has been finally declared in the Todd Marinovich-Bret Johnson quarterback stakes.

The Hundred Months War is over.

By way of byways and side streets, around roadblocks and detour signs, Orange County’s most famous, favorite family feud arrived at this juncture this week:

Marinovich is starting in the National Football League.

Johnson is sitting in the Big 10.

There will be no more head-to-head competition, unless the Raiders decide to scrimmage Michigan State’s second string anytime soon.

Comparisons, at this late date, might seem a bit unfair, but the football careers of Marinovich and Johnson were born of comparison. Same position, same age, same high school league, same high school headlines--with every step they took, it became more of a footrace.

Which high school developed the better quarterback--Capistrano Valley or El Toro?

Which college recruited the better quarterback--USC or UCLA?

And, ultimately, when confronted with that inevitable dilemma in life--The Troublesome Coach In The Middle Of The Road--which quarterback made the better choice?

In retrospect, 1990 marked the fork in the road for Johnson and Marinovich, the year both quarterbacks decided they could no longer play for their college coaches.

Johnson couldn’t play for Terry Donahue--as in, Donahue wouldn’t let him.

Marinovich couldn’t play for Larry Smith--as in, Marinovich didn’t want to.

So both quarterbacks bolted. And, no comparison, the riskier dice were thrown by Marinovich.

Johnson went first, before the 1990 season opener, seeking asylum at Michigan State. Johnson knew he was burning his sophomore year of eligibility--he’d already been redshirted in 1988--but he also knew he would begin spring drills in 1991 with two full seasons and a wide-open quarterback competition in front of him.

Smart move, he figured.

Marinovich was the dumb one. After a 1990 season of intense mutual intolerance, Marinovich and Smith decided to go their separate ways, with Marinovich, a mere sapling of a sophomore, declaring himself eligible for the NFL draft.

He was flushing his career, the consensus held.

He’ll be no more than a middle-round selection.

He’s signing on for a half-decade of practice-squad duty.

Funny how the tumblers shifted into place after that.

Johnson left UCLA because of the specter of Tommy Maddox, the freshman that Donahue and Homer Smith weren’t about to keep on the bench. Now, two years later, Maddox has gone the Marinovich route, taking the NFL leap as a sophomore, and replacement Wayne Cook has a season-ending knee injury. Johnson, had he stayed, could be lining up over center this Saturday at Brigham Young, taking his rightful place as senior starter at UCLA.

Justice, in the end, would be served.

Instead, Johnson is branded with the blame for Michigan State’s 3-8 finish in 1991 and watches as another man, junior Jim Miller, quarterbacks the Spartans to defeats against Central Michigan.

And Marinovich, through sheer luck of the draft, is taken in the first round in the spring of ’91 by Al Davis’ Raiders (noted risk-takers) and joins a depth chart headed by Jay Schroeder (no Joe Montana).

Put him in Denver, where Maddox sits today, and Marinovich would be waiting for ’95 or ’96 or whenever John Elway gets tired of losing Super Bowls.

But with the Schroeder Raiders, Marinovich has been always an interception or an 0-2 start away--and now, in only his 17th month as an NFL property, that 0-2 start has happened. This Sunday, Marinovich starts for the Raiders against the Cleveland Browns, amid rare Raider press conferences and the sound of trumpets ushering in a new era.

Actually, the move is staggeringly low-risk for the Raiders. At 0-2, their season is going nowhere fast. What’s the worst Marinovich can do? Make them 0-3?

The Raiders are also playing their home opener, and to start Marinovich in front of 60,000 Schroeder haters is to make a blatant, if overdue, play to the fans. Besides that, consider the opposition. Cleveland is 0-2, already a loser to Indianapolis, and quarterback Bernie Kosar is out with a broken ankle. The Buffalo Bills these aren’t.

Sunday, the Browns will be quarterbacked by a Todd of their own--Philcox, a third-year pro from Syracuse with a total of 10 NFL pass attempts to his credit.

Marinovich vs. Philcox.

If you’re Art Shell or Bill Belichick, which Todd would you rather have?

But keep those expectations cautious, Raiders. Davis might be intrigued by the apparent symmetry--his new quarterback wears No. 12 and passes left-handed--but Marinovich is no Ken Stabler. Nor is he the next Daryle Lamonica, the Mad Bomber of Oakland yesteryear. Remember, coming out of high school, Johnson was the one with the stronger arm.

If anything, Marinovich compares more closely to Jim Plunkett. If he is to survive and thrive within the NFL, Marinovich will have to rely on the same resources Plunkett had--guile, the ability to ad-lib in the pocket, a talent for thinking on his feet.

But the opportunity is there, his for the grabbing. And after all the earlier off-field misdirection, the drug mistakes, the unbridled bucking against an adolescence shaped by too much discipline and too little fun, that is no small claim.

This Sunday, Marinovich, at age 23, is one of 28 NFL starting quarterbacks. He did not take the easy way to get there.

And inside the Johnson family home, Bret Johnson no longer brings the top football credentials to the dinner table. Little brother Rob, a sophomore at USC, is now the starting quarterback in the family.

Until further notice, The Rivalry has been discontinued.