Notre Dame's golden boy eyes Heisman, national title

The Journal Gazette                                                   September 1, 2006

Notre Dame’s golden boy eyes Heisman, national title
By Michael Rothstein
DUBLIN, Ohio – The first time Steven Osborne saw Brady Quinn walk into his hair
shop, Osborne looked at the pre-teen, laughed and wondered how this kid played football.
He was scrawny, nothing like he looks today.
The man called Oz cut Brady’s hair short at first, but eventually it grew into what kids
called “The Brady Quinn.” Before he played quarterback at Notre Dame, became the
cover boy for national magazines and the Heisman Trophy favorite, kids lined up in front
of Osborne’s shop to receive the haircut with the No. 4 attachment blade with a little
messy spike on the top, paying $14-15 each time Osborne sculpted another youngster’s
hair into an imitation of the original.
As quarterback for Dublin Coffman High School, Quinn was a legend in his city before
anyone heard of him nationwide. He still had anonymity then, even if elementary and
middle school kids idolized him.
“He was like, he was a catch, the too-good-to-be-true type,” said Lindy Slinger, a soccer
player at Miami of Ohio and Quinn’s longtime girlfriend.
Notre Dame thinks so now, as its poster child competes this season for a national
championship and to become the school’s eighth Heisman Trophy winner. It’s an award
filled with glitz and glamour and everything else befitting of a kid with looks that could
be placed in Hollywood as easily as South Bend.
He grew up in the midst of Ohio State, scarlet and gray surrounding everything football
in the suburb of Columbus, Ohio. Quinn’s presence and star quality changed that.
In the Mall at Tuttle Crossing is the Buckeye Store. It carries exclusively Ohio State-
related material with one notable exception: Brady Quinn jerseys. Seven children’s
versions hung on a rack behind A.J. Hawk replicas. In adult sizes, Quinn’s jersey
necessitated an entire wall rack, with blue, white and green facsimiles sticking out among
the red and white theme of the store. In the middle of Buckeyeland, Quinn’s jersey is a
seller – mostly to high school girls and die-hard Notre Dame supporters.
The 21-year-old Quinn is humbled by the attention. He recognizes the fame but still
struggles to be the regular guy he grew up as. Slowly, though, regular became skewed
and regular to Quinn became abnormal to everyone else.
“It’s an honor to be mentioned,” the Heisman candidate says, seriousness splashed across
his face. It won’t be the last time he says that this year.
Quinn reversed typical course. As attention climbed throughout high school and college,
Quinn became more relaxed, more confident, yet maintaining the structure he had as a
child.

Brady Quinn’s mother, Robin, needed money for milk one late fall day during Brady’s
early childhood. Son had a birthday recently and some money lying around.
It was late and Robin needed “two or three dollars” so no one would complain in the
morning.
The next day, Brady woke up and discovered the money missing. He was 6 or 7 at the
time and the kid’s room was immaculate. His bed was always made. His toys were
always perfectly placed. Everything had its place.
Brady went to his mother in tears. Robin apologized for taking the money. Brady was
upset because he saw the few dollars as the beginning of a college fund – a funny thought
now because of the scholarship he earned to Notre Dame.
The conversation left Robin with concerns.
“Who is thinking about that then?” she recalled. “Most kids are playing with Batmans
and Ninja Turtles. I just sat there thinking ‘Wow, he’ll be a basket case if he was stressed
this young.’ ”
The perfectionist nature was evident in sports as well.

As a child, Brady never appeared to have fun playing. A scowl was etched on his face
when he played for the Dublin Rocks, a local traveling basketball team. It’d be the same
in baseball or football.

Brady said he did have fun then. It was the impending criticism from mom that left him
nervous. Mom never let Brady think he was better than he was, critical of every pass,
every incompletion.

Son said the scowl came from mom. He said mom’s tough nature and her own drive for
perfection helped mold him.

“I’d be getting a drink of water and look up and she’s right there and giving me the worst
look,” Brady said. As Brady began to grow, his retentiveness lessened. He maintained his
anonymity and slowly began to relax more.

While mom provided seriousness, his father, Ty, and Brady’s longtime friends gave relief
and laughter.

Ty played the role of one of the boys while still maintaining a fatherly presence. So many
nights in the Quinn home, Ty, Brady and Brady’s friends sat and brainstormed of things
to do. The group didn’t party much. They instead played the immature group, the type of
guys who went around Dublin playing ring-and-run on the houses of the girls they liked.
By the time Brady hit high school, all his friends – athletes themselves – knew he stuck
out. His best friend, Jake Drongowski, remembered catching for Brady during youth
baseball and bruises marking his hands after a throwing session.
They had been a standout group of athletes, losing one football game in middle school

and being equally dominant in baseball and basketball.
For relaxation, Brady and his friends would drive to Steak ’n Shake at 2 a.m. for
milkshakes and goofing around to their waitresses or Ty – who everyone calls Chopper –
taking the group to see “American Pie” in seventh grade.
They provided an outlet for Brady, something he said helped him loosen up.

“His friends probably enjoyed me more than he did,” Ty said. “He probably wondered
what type of trouble I’d get myself into.”

As Brady grew older, so did his popularity. For two years in high school, he didn’t start at
quarterback. He maintained his anonymity. Then new coach Mark Crabtree came in.
Brady became the starter, and seven games into his junior season everything began
turning.
It’s where anonymity started to shrink.

It started with a game-winning drive in the seventh game of his junior season against
Grove City in 2001. Quinn and Coffman were down 19-14 with just more than a minute
remaining. They had most of the field to go and Quinn began methodically moving the
ball downfield.
A 7-yard pass here, a 10-yard completion there and then Crabtree called for a switch
route. It would send Chinedum Ndukwe and another receiver deep after running a
crossing pattern. Ndukwe broke free and caught a touchdown pass from Quinn with less
than 30 seconds left. It led to a 20-19 victory which sparked a run to the state semifinals.
“It’s kind of cool when you can look back on a moment like that and say: ‘This is where
things changed,’ ” Quinn said. “ ‘This is where everything kind of turned the corner and
made things happen.’ ”
It left Quinn more confident and comfortable as a quarterback. It showed his city – the
one with an Irish festival every August and small green signs with gold lettering
welcoming visitors to Dublin – its next star.
It altered the career paths of Quinn and Ndukwe, who both ended up at Notre Dame.
All in one moment, one drive, and one pass.

“It’s a play we’ll remember for a long time,” Ndukwe said. “No matter how many plays
he makes here or touchdowns he’s thrown, I think that one really set the tone.”

After that moment, Osborne began fielding requests for Quinn’s haircut. He’d go around
town and be noticed now. Dublin is a football town, Osborne said.
“It was one of his better moments,” Crabtree said.
Having been accepted to Notre Dame and focused on the future, Quinn made his only
mistake.

Early in his senior season, he and Ndukwe left Coffman to head to Chipotle for a pre-
game meal, although Quinn said he didn’t eat before games at the time. They missed the
team dinner and Crabtree was incensed.

They had returned from Chipotle and Quinn went to the training room. Ndukwe came
back and told Quinn that Crabtree was angry. So much so, he held Quinn and Ndukwe
out for the first quarter of that night’s game. By then, he had become a superstar in
Dublin. When his backup quarterback, Jeff Montee, heard he’d be starting, his first
thought contained wasn’t positive.
“The whole bus ride I’m sitting in the back with my head down,” Montee said. “I had one
of my buddies sitting there talking to me. He’s like ‘What’s wrong?’ I’m like ‘I have to
start for Brady.’ He’s like ‘Yeah right, come on.’ I’m like ‘No, I’m serious.’ He’s like
‘Oh crap.’ ”

Montee fumbled his first series. By then, the crowd started chanting “We Want Brady.
We Want Brady.” Montee didn’t know that until afterward. His second drive he scored a
touchdown on a pass Quinn called “Great.”

“Right away I was kind of shocked,” Quinn said. “… I was kind of upset but I wasn’t
sure how long I wasn’t going to start for. It could be a series or two, a quarter, a half. I
tried to collect myself the best I could.”

Ndukwe said people in Dublin still bring up that game. But when that is your biggest
mistake, things could be worse. He said they sat out because people knew they were
going to Notre Dame and thought they were outgrowing their current state.

“Everyone remembers it to this day,” Ndukwe said. “Everyone remembers the one thing
you did wrong.”

The one game didn’t derail Quinn’s senior year. Quinn led Coffman to the state playoffs
in 2002, recognized by a banner in Coffman’s football facility. His name is on the left
wall as you walk into the facility, in a stencil of Ohio honoring all-league players. He’s
listed for 2001 and 2002.
Walk into the school now and a picture of Quinn sits on the school’s “Wall of
Appreciation,” honoring the school’s standout athletes. His picture, kneeling in his black
No. 10 jersey with green lettering, hangs between Amber Churchill and Pat LaMonica.
His U.S. Army All-American game helmet is in a trophy case in the back of the hall,
signed “Brady Quinn #10.”

Brady Quinn was off to Notre Dame and would lose any anonymity he had remaining.
Four games into Quinn’s freshman year he replaced Carlyle Holiday as the team’s starter.
In his first start, against Purdue, he threw the ball 59 times in a 23-10 loss.
It began a season where he completed less than 50 percent of his passes – 47.3 percent –
and tossed more interceptions (15) than touchdowns (nine).
“It was hard watching him going out there against Purdue his first start and getting

knocked down every play,” Drongowski said. “That was tough to watch.”
During Quinn’s first two years at Notre Dame, people tried making excuses for Quinn.
The team was young. He was young. Fans sat in the stands and wondered if Quinn was as
good as advertised out of high school, when he was named one of the nation’s Top 100
players by ESPN.
“In those first two years, that was tough,” Quinn said. “Even now, people are going to be
so critical if you have any mistakes or any flaws. I guess the biggest thing is you have to
take things in stride.”
It’s something Quinn couldn’t do as a child. If he had a poor game, he’d stay after with
his father and work on extra pitching or batting in baseball. Eventually, though, he grew
and started to become less serious.

During Quinn’s first two years, when the Irish went 11-13, he felt responsible for losses.
Slowly, he recognized it wasn’t all on him.
“I don’t know how many times he had to go to dinner with 20 or 25 people after a beating
and he put a smile on his face,” Robin Quinn said.
Even while Quinn struggled in those early years, people began to notice him. It’s what
happens when you’re the quarterback at Notre Dame – good or bad. He visited Slinger
his sophomore year and stayed in her dorm. Someone saw him and knocked on the door.
“We don’t mean to bother you, but we heard Brady Quinn was in this room,” the visitor
said.
It opened Slinger’s eyes to how much focus Quinn would receive. As he began to
improve, the attention grew. Soon, going out in public would become difficult. Quinn
would have to put on a hat to try and disguise himself – as much as a 6-foot-4, 233-pound
model-like quarterback can.

“Nothing shocks me anymore,” Slinger said.
Quinn traces the mass of attention back to after the USC game last year. He scored a
touchdown late, and if not for a last-second USC drive, would have given Notre Dame a
massive upset win over the top team in the nation.
People came up to him more. Going to dinner became impossible. Footballs and pictures
lined up outside his dorm and showed up at Quinn’s Dublin home – a pile Robin called
“mounting.” At Tom Zbikowski’s boxing debut at Madison Square Garden, his
teammates moved him from a seat closer to the aisle in Section 84 to a middle seat in a
middle row to shield him from the lines of fans hoping for a second of his time, a picture,
a signed ticket stub.
At Coffman, freshmen wore “Quinn For Heisman” T-Shirts in Jen Lemke’s English class.
His autograph, personalized to “Miracle For Madison,” a charity supporting the daughter
of Quinn’s government teacher Carl Reed, sold for $2,100 when combined with a signed
A.J. Hawk print last season.

All this happened as he improved under new coach Charlie Weis. He holds 30 Irish
records entering this year after a junior season where he threw for 3,919 yards and 32
touchdowns.

As he improved, his anonymity shrunk to almost nothing.
“The kid can’t even order his meal,” Drongowski said. “People come with their phones
and everything. I always tell him, ‘If you don’t like the attention, throw some
interceptions.’ ”
Drongowski jokes, of course. But Quinn recognizes this is what must come with the tag
of Heisman Trophy contender. It must come with being the quarterback of a team with a
rabid, fickle fan base.
“I try to have fun with it,” Quinn said. “But there are obviously some times you want to
be alone and get away, but at the same time, that is the sacrifice you make when you
choose to do different things in our life. That’s just what I chose.”
Osborne hasn’t been asked to cut “The Brady Quinn” in years. Quinn grew his hair out,
having a shag hairdo now (save for a Mohawk shaved as a fashion faux pas before the
2005 season).

The hair returned and now the poster boy is ready for a run at two things: the Heisman
and a national championship.
He’s not supposed to talk about the latter, as Weis wants all focus to be on Georgia Tech.
But he can’t help it. It’s why players come to Notre Dame – to win a national
championship.

“Without a doubt,” Quinn said.
An appearance in that game could almost guarantee Quinn a spot in New York as a
Heisman finalist, where the glamour boy will once again have a chance to do his hair
perfectly, to put on a suit and possibly win an award that no one in Dublin has had before.
It’s easier for him now. He takes all the attention, all the hype, all the pressure of this
season without many emotional highs and lows.
His parents helped him with that. So did his friends. In a situation where Brady Quinn
could have changed, he hasn’t.
Besides the autograph seekers and inability to escape attention, he is the same kid who
arrived in South Bend as a precocious freshman.
He’s still the same kid who used to stay after practice to bomb footballs from his knees at
the goal-line to teammates standing 50 yards away. It’s all an effort to improve, because
if anything, that’s what Brady Quinn is about.
“It is part of his growth and growing up and handling those types of things without

getting a big head,” Weis said.
“He’s done an admirable job with how he’s handled all the hype and media attention.

“It’s tough not to root for this kid.”
Sure, Weis is biased. He’s his guy. But Quinn has more than that. An entire city has got
his back.

The Chicago Sun-Times                                                      October 11, 2006

Buddy system connects at ND
By Vaughn McClure

The thump Brady Quinn hears as he walks into the house always signals shoes blocking
the entrance -- and the shoes aren't his.

Notre Dame's quarterback will walk a few more steps and discover crumbs littering the
kitchen counter. Then he'll spot a dirty, empty plate in the living room.

Yep, ''Nedu'' must be home.

''He's definitely the messiest,'' Quinn said of his roommate, Irish safety Chinedum
Ndukwe. ''At least his bedroom is closed off so I don't have to see it.''

Ndukwe laughed about being dubbed a real-life Pigpen.

''I'm a clean person; I'm just not uptight about stuff, like Brady is,'' he said. ''There will be
one cup in the sink, and he'll wash it. He'll get up from what he's doing and look in the
dishwasher. He's just strange like that.''

Quinn and Ndukwe -- best friends, high school teammates and now first-time roomies --
are Notre Dame's version of ''The Odd Couple.'' The seniors share a three-bedroom, off-
campus house located on the river, a place that has evolved into the hot spot for ''Monday
Night Football'' gatherings.

''It's always a fun time over there,'' said safety Tom Zbikowski, one of the team captains.
''I just love being around Brady and Nedu. Brady's anal about football, always thinking
about football. Nedu's real relaxed. And when you get him alone, he always has some
good dirt on Brady.''

Quinn has taken some playful shots at Ndukwe, too, several times poking fun at his
roommate's ineptness on the pool table. Quinn even had the nerve to call out Ndukwe for
stealing swipes of his deodorant stick.

''He'll try to act like he hasn't, but there's evidence,'' Quinn said. ''His hair is on it. I'm like,
'That's not my hair.'

''I don't know what he's thinking sometimes.''

The two can rant about each other for hours. Ndukwe swears Quinn parks his Ford
Explorer sideways, taking up all the room in the lot. But Quinn contends Ndukwe, who
drives a Mercury Mountaineer, hogs the space.

''It's bad enough when you can't drive around him without going through the grass or
almost hitting the dumpster,'' Quinn said. ''I'm taking out shrubs because he won't pull
over enough.''

Quinn said the only time his roommate cleans is when Ndukwe's parents come to town.
Ndukwe -- who wouldn't allow Quinn to bring a cat in the house -- agreed Quinn does
most of the tidying up. But he said Mr. Perfectionist is not flawless.

''This dude will leave his hair products all over the bathroom,'' Ndukwe said. ''And he has
this collection of like 30 different colognes. Sometimes, I'll spray them all just to mess
with him.

''And he always tries to jump on me for leaving stuff around. That's about when I flip him
on his back, let him know Daddy's home.''

As if the shoes at the front door weren't indication enough.

Fast friends
They playfully tease each other like brothers because they have developed that type of
bond.
Ndukwe remembers the first time he and Quinn met: during the seventh grade, when
Ndukwe and his family, originally from Nigeria, moved to Ohio from Tennessee.
''To be honest with you, I thought Brady was Native American,'' Ndukwe said, ''because
he gets so dark in the summertime.''
Quinn recalled how the friendship blossomed. He and Ndukwe sat next to each other in
the same junior high French class and told the teacher they took the class for the same
reason.
''To sweet-talk the ladies,'' Quinn said. ''Nedu was quiet up until that point. That opened
him up.''
The pair grew closer through sports. When they played on the same traveling baseball
squad, Ndukwe usually needed a ride because his parents worked early hours. So he'd
pop up at Quinn's house early.
Very early.
''I'm punching in their house code at 4 a.m., and they've only known me a couple of
months,'' Ndukwe said. ''That tells you the kind of people the Quinns are. And that's the
type of relationship Brady and I have had since we first met.''
In football, Quinn was the star quarterback and Ndukwe the stud receiver for Coffman
High School in Dublin, a suburb of Columbus.
''They'd go out and throw routes with one another when no one else was around,''
Coffman coach Mark Crabtree said. ''Sometimes in the games, they'd stray a little bit
from the play-calling. But they knew it never worked when they did.''
Off the field, they were virtually inseparable. Well, sort of.
''Senior year, Nedu was so attached to his girlfriend that he really didn't hang out with the
guys as much,'' Quinn said. ''He was one of those guys.''
Ndukwe's response?
''That's true,'' he said. ''I was like that.''
For once, they agree on something.

Common goal
For all the differences they have around the house, Quinn and Ndukwe share some
similarities.

Both are involved in long-distance relationships with their high school sweethearts (sorry,
ladies). Both like to watch ''Entourage'' on Sunday nights. Both like to hit golf balls off
the back porch of their new house. And both eat healthy.
''When people come over,'' Ndukwe said, ''they think it's a bunch of girls in the house
because there are no fatty foods.''
And both have aspirations of playing in the NFL. Quinn (6-4, 233 pounds) is projected to
be a first-round pick, maybe even the top overall pick. Ndukwe (6-2, 209) has improved
his stock dramatically while dropping 20 pounds from last season. He's no longer an
afterthought when NFL scouts talk to the Notre Dame coaches.
''Two years ago, when he was here for Christmas, Chinedum told me he wanted to play in
the NFL,'' Crabtree said. ''I think he realized that time is running out on him. He came to
the conclusion that he is good enough. He's in a perfect spot right now.''
Quinn certainly endorses his best friend.
''I feel bad that he doesn't get more attention,'' Quinn said. ''He's worked extremely hard
to get to where he's at. When you look at him -- the weight loss, the change of positions
[from wide receiver] -- he deserves a lot of credit for what he's done, how he's played.''
The reality is, Quinn and Ndukwe are unlikely to be on the same team this time next
season, unlikely to share a house. Quinn will not miss cleaning up Ndukwe's messes.
''I'm sure we'll stay in touch, remain close,'' Quinn said.
''We need to be able to help each other through the tough times, like we have in the past.
''I know he's got my back.''
That's what a best friend is for.