The Golem of the Gridiron (for Todd Marinovich)
Around 40 years ago, a guy around here had an idea. He wanted to create the perfect athlete. Specifically, he wanted to make the ultimate football player. He chose a wife appropriately. His first child was a daughter; unimportant. The second was a boy. Immediately a rigorous conditioning and training regimen was applied. For the child’s entire life he was fed, schooled, exercised, and drilled with one goal in mind: stardom as a football quarterback.
The experiment was a success. The boy went to a prestigious college, where he was a star player. He then proceeded to the National Football League, headed for a glorious career.
Then, of course, the entire project collapsed. Drug addiction with its attendant legal and publicity problems arrived, and the NFL career blew up. The kid went through rehab and came back, and relapsed. And relapsed. And relapsed again. And left sports. He tried to be a rock ‘n’ roll singer at one point, and made a stab here and there at being famous for a living.
A couple of weeks ago, at the age of 35, he was once again busted for speed and syringes and is currently doing 90 days in the local county lockup.
I hear through the grapevine that his father is trying again, with another baby, by a new and improved mother. On his sports training company’s website there is no mention of his son.
September 30th, 2004 at 9:08 am
Marv’s a great big dick, all right.
October 4th, 2005 at 2:03 pm
I am so sad about Todd’s demise. His parents really f’d him up. I know this guy, he lives in my neighborhood and I’ve sat on the beach with him while he plays his guitar.
There’s no doubt he’s hooked on just about every horrible drug out there, homeless and running. But whenever I run into him, I feel his positive energy and sit with him, or grab my bike and pedal around with him in the alleys.
I wish so bad that there was something I could do to help him.
I hate his dad.