Walk-Ons’ Path Not for the Weak

The young quarterback knew where he stood. He knew because it was tough getting a pair of clean socks from the equipment manager, nearly impossible to get new cleats.

These days, Jeff Krohn is the man at Arizona State, ranking among the top passers in the nation, guiding one of the most potent offenses in the game. But the redshirt sophomore, whose team comes to the Coliseum on Saturday, remembers his first season. He was issued a jersey with the number 22 on it. Not good for a quarterback.

“I was a walk-on,” he says. “I got treated like a walk-on.”

Walk-ons occupy the lower end of college football’s food chain, unrecruited and unpampered. They pay their way into school, practicing each day with scant hope of playing on Saturday afternoons. They get no free meals and do not always travel to road games. When new equipment is handed out, they are last in line.

Yet walk-ons can be of great value. They push the starters to practice harder and often man the scout team, wearing different colored jerseys and mimicking next week’s opponents to prepare the first string. They do all of the grunt work and get none of the glory, harboring long-shot hopes of climbing the depth chart.

“It takes a lot of intestinal fortitude,” says Ed Orgeron, the USC defensive line coach and recruiting coordinator. “That’s a true team member.”

USC doesn’t have a rags-to-riches story of the magnitude of Krohn’s. Few young players want to--or can afford to--take a chance at a private university where tuition and costs run more than $30,000 a year. Still, there are a few players such as offensive lineman Spencer Torgan, who rattles off year by year the famous Trojan games he watched as a kid.

“I had to come here,” he says, but adds, “Being a walk-on, you’ve got to have the heart for it.”

The journey begins with spring tryouts that attract as many as 60 or 70 hopefuls, some of them fraternity guys and others who, as Mark Jackson, director of football operations, says, “have never played football for anyone.” All but a few are weeded out.

The bigger test is being invited to summer camp. Petros Papadakis, a former tailback who led the team in touchdowns last season, recalls walking on in the mid-1990s. While other players wore shiny red shorts, a pair of “old, gray, half-Spandex things” hung in his locker. He questioned a manager and was told only upperclassmen got new equipment.

Just then, two scholarship freshmen walked by in new shorts.

Papadakis and current walk-ons say the equipment situation has improved in recent seasons, even though lineman Justin Brown recently asked for new gloves and was given a used pair, both left-handed. The greater problem is image, a stigma that shadows all walk-ons.

Maybe they aren’t talented enough. Or dedicated enough. Maybe they want nothing more than to tell friends--and girls--they are on the team.

“I felt like I had something to prove,” says D. Hale, a nonscholarship receiver the last two seasons. “I worried that the other players might not take me seriously.”

Only sweat can erase the doubt. While starters play for the roar of the crowd, walk-ons play for the respect of their teammates and an occasional nod from an assistant coach. Brown says there is nothing better than the praise he gets after making a block in practice.

“The only way to move up there is to show them you can do it down here,” he says.

Brown and other walk-ons say coaches and teammates treat them no different but they are often reminded, in other ways, that there is a difference. Many walk-ons stay home when the team goes on the road, watching the game on television. Under NCAA rules, only scholarship players eat free, so walk-ons must pay to sit at the training table. Their parents often sacrifice to cover tuition.

The last few seasons, besides going to practice and classes, Hale has worked part time to make ends meet. Right now, he is a dispatcher for a campus service that shuttles students to and from night classes.

“It’s a tough road,” he says.

Sometimes it pays off. Hale is close to cracking the rotation. Another walk-on receiver, Ryan Kaiser, plays special teams and lined up with the offense for several plays against Washington last week.

The closest USC has to a Krohn is cornerback Kevin Arbet, who was recruited by schools such as Wyoming and Portland State but sent a videotape of his high school games to USC, asking for a chance.

His performance at summer camp in 1999 so impressed coaches that they offered him a scholarship within two weeks. No one could recall that happening at USC before.

“It was the best feeling ever,” he says.

Arbet plays in the nickel package and leads the team in punt returns.

Even Krohn did not break through that quickly, spending a year on the scout team before earning the quarterback’s job last season. He threw a touchdown pass to defeat San Diego State in his first game but was still paying his own way.

“It was taking forever,” he said.

Arizona State did not give him a scholarship until several games into the 2000 season. And he still had that old jersey until new Coach Dirk Koetter issued him a more appropriate No. 5. By that time, Krohn wasn’t sure he wanted to switch.

“I kind of have a bond with the walk-ons,” he said. “The new guys come and ask me how I made it and I help them as much as I can. I can relate to where they are.”