12-31-2006, 09:53 PM
Blessing in disguise
A monster hit may have saved Washington QB's life
Posted: Wednesday December 20, 2006 3:37PM; Updated: Wednesday December 20, 2006 4:09PM
Washington QB Johnny DuRocher is thankful doctors were able to remove a tumor in his brain and hopes to play baseball this spring.
Bo McNally had already picked off Johnny DuRocher earlier in the quarter, but there the Washington quarterback was, lobbing a perfect spiral right at McNally again.
The Stanford cornerback plucked the ball at midfield, DuRocher went in for a tackle, two other Cardinals leveled him, and McNally raced into the end zone, breaking open what would become Stanford's lone win of this season.
Today, Washington offensive coordinator Tim Lappano is fairly sure it was the best play of the year for the Huskies. Maybe of his 25-year career.
"I've seen a lot of crazy things," Lappano said, "but I've never seen a hit that saved a person's life."
Turns out, that's exactly what that ugly dirt-feeding, concussion-inducing thump did. See, hiding inside DuRocher's brain, under his shag of hair, was a plum-sized brain tumor.
After being taken off the field, Washington trainers put DuRocher into the MRI machine, pads and all. They saw the odd-looking mass, they showed DuRocher and the 22-year old decided he couldn't worry right then.
"I was kind of loopy," DuRocher remembered.
The junior had a higher magnet image taken a couple days later, and in November on the Friday just before the Apple Cup, he sat in Dr. Richard Ellenbogen's office at Seattle's Harborview Medical Center. His mom was weepy, his dad was nervous and he desperately tried to be serious. The tumor was benign, Ellenbogen said.
"Am I going to die?" DuRocher asked.
"No," the neurosurgeon said.
"Does it have to come out?" he asked.
"Yes," Ellenbogen said.
"Alright, cool, let's do it," he said.
When Lappano left the 49ers and first brought his offense to Husky Stadium two springs ago, it was DuRocher who cajoled the wideouts and tight ends into winter throwing sessions. It was DuRocher who logged hours picking at Lappano's playbook, going over Xs and Os and "trying to convince me," Lappano said, "to run crackerjack plays."
Before the start of the 2005 season, DuRocher split snaps with Isaiah Stanback right up until a week before the Huskies' opener. When he found out transferring from Oregon made him ineligible for the first three games. Later in the year, just as DuRocher was starting to see some time, he broke his wrist.
He lost this year's backup battle to Carl Bonnell and he probably should have faded into irrelevance, what with hotshot freshman Jake Locker on campus. Not Johnny.
"A lot of kids would've been a problem, but Johnny's the epitome of team player," Lappano said. "He became my second hand with Jake, teaching him how to watch film, how to be on campus, how to study -- he really mentored and tutored this kid.
"I love him."
Which would be a drippingly sweet sentiment if DuRocher let it be. But he insists that he's not ready for any veneration.
In three years as a starter at Bethel High in Washington, DuRocher won 34 games, threw for nearly 7,000 yards and closed his senior season as the state's Gatorade Player of the Year. Then he accepted a scholarship to Oregon. But he left the Ducks and returned home to Washington because he thought he could get more playing time. He may be the player that keeps Lappano's meeting room loose, who mocks Lappano's clothes and who wins Mr. Congeniality hands down. But when Bonnell got hurt and talk turned to burning Locker's redshirt, DuRocher felt that it was his turn to be something more than just the Huskies' designated smiler.
"Look, nobody likes being a backup. When they thought about playing Jake, I was like, 'Come on, this is my time,' " DuRocher said. Guiding the kid wasn't totally altruistic he swore, but more of a, "Well hell, if they're going to play him, I have to help him."
That self-deprecation carried him through a Nov. 30 surgery, and forced him into joking about the quarter-sized metal plate Ellenbogen put in his head. DuRocher, who never had a single warning sign, said the doctors have told him some painful -- and surely confusing -- symptoms would probably start right about now.
Instead, DuRocher's home reading mail. It figured that some of his old Oregon coaches would call him when news of his tumor broke, but Oregon fans? Washington State fans wrote him too, he's just now getting through the hundreds and hundreds of e-mails he got and the messages have definitely buoyed him through what's been a pretty boring few weeks.
DuRocher's balance is still a little screwy and playing Xbox makes his eyes hurt. Lappano's suspicion that DuRocher's wildly funny stories featuring "hordes" of female friends "were a little souped up," turned out true; once he left the nurses at the hospital, DuRocher's steady stream of female visitors stopped.
"It's definitely not a hot scar," DuRocher said, offering an exaggerated sigh.
He can't feel the plate and the three-inch scar isn't particularly tender, but he doesn't yet know if he'll get to play football next year. Ellenbogen's polling other doctors and doing some research, and although DuRocher is hopeful, he's not overly optimistic.
"I'm not very fast," he said, "so the chance of me taking a shot in the head is pretty good."
There is one good bit of news, though. He's been cleared to play baseball. That's right, baseball.
A catcher as a high school sophomore, DuRocher woke up one day last spring imagining himself on a pitcher's mound. ("I know," he said, "it doesn't make any sense to me either.") He asked coach Ty Willingham if he could give the sport a shot and Willingham told him, "If you're going to do it, make sure you go be good at it." So he started throwing, his fastball began clocking in in the mid-90s in July and the baseball team's expecting him in its locker room, and its jersey, come Jan. 15.
DuRocher doesn't know if he'll start or come out of the bullpen, he's eternally grateful his new teammates haven't accused him "of making a mockery of their sport," and he's still a little weirded out by being the most famous person on his new team.
"It is sort of surreal," he said. "I wish I was getting all the attention because I'm damn good. I mean, I'm the guy whose last pass was a pick."
And thank goodness for that.
A monster hit may have saved Washington QB's life
Posted: Wednesday December 20, 2006 3:37PM; Updated: Wednesday December 20, 2006 4:09PM
Washington QB Johnny DuRocher is thankful doctors were able to remove a tumor in his brain and hopes to play baseball this spring.
Bo McNally had already picked off Johnny DuRocher earlier in the quarter, but there the Washington quarterback was, lobbing a perfect spiral right at McNally again.
The Stanford cornerback plucked the ball at midfield, DuRocher went in for a tackle, two other Cardinals leveled him, and McNally raced into the end zone, breaking open what would become Stanford's lone win of this season.
Today, Washington offensive coordinator Tim Lappano is fairly sure it was the best play of the year for the Huskies. Maybe of his 25-year career.
"I've seen a lot of crazy things," Lappano said, "but I've never seen a hit that saved a person's life."
Turns out, that's exactly what that ugly dirt-feeding, concussion-inducing thump did. See, hiding inside DuRocher's brain, under his shag of hair, was a plum-sized brain tumor.
After being taken off the field, Washington trainers put DuRocher into the MRI machine, pads and all. They saw the odd-looking mass, they showed DuRocher and the 22-year old decided he couldn't worry right then.
"I was kind of loopy," DuRocher remembered.
The junior had a higher magnet image taken a couple days later, and in November on the Friday just before the Apple Cup, he sat in Dr. Richard Ellenbogen's office at Seattle's Harborview Medical Center. His mom was weepy, his dad was nervous and he desperately tried to be serious. The tumor was benign, Ellenbogen said.
"Am I going to die?" DuRocher asked.
"No," the neurosurgeon said.
"Does it have to come out?" he asked.
"Yes," Ellenbogen said.
"Alright, cool, let's do it," he said.
When Lappano left the 49ers and first brought his offense to Husky Stadium two springs ago, it was DuRocher who cajoled the wideouts and tight ends into winter throwing sessions. It was DuRocher who logged hours picking at Lappano's playbook, going over Xs and Os and "trying to convince me," Lappano said, "to run crackerjack plays."
Before the start of the 2005 season, DuRocher split snaps with Isaiah Stanback right up until a week before the Huskies' opener. When he found out transferring from Oregon made him ineligible for the first three games. Later in the year, just as DuRocher was starting to see some time, he broke his wrist.
He lost this year's backup battle to Carl Bonnell and he probably should have faded into irrelevance, what with hotshot freshman Jake Locker on campus. Not Johnny.
"A lot of kids would've been a problem, but Johnny's the epitome of team player," Lappano said. "He became my second hand with Jake, teaching him how to watch film, how to be on campus, how to study -- he really mentored and tutored this kid.
"I love him."
Which would be a drippingly sweet sentiment if DuRocher let it be. But he insists that he's not ready for any veneration.
In three years as a starter at Bethel High in Washington, DuRocher won 34 games, threw for nearly 7,000 yards and closed his senior season as the state's Gatorade Player of the Year. Then he accepted a scholarship to Oregon. But he left the Ducks and returned home to Washington because he thought he could get more playing time. He may be the player that keeps Lappano's meeting room loose, who mocks Lappano's clothes and who wins Mr. Congeniality hands down. But when Bonnell got hurt and talk turned to burning Locker's redshirt, DuRocher felt that it was his turn to be something more than just the Huskies' designated smiler.
"Look, nobody likes being a backup. When they thought about playing Jake, I was like, 'Come on, this is my time,' " DuRocher said. Guiding the kid wasn't totally altruistic he swore, but more of a, "Well hell, if they're going to play him, I have to help him."
That self-deprecation carried him through a Nov. 30 surgery, and forced him into joking about the quarter-sized metal plate Ellenbogen put in his head. DuRocher, who never had a single warning sign, said the doctors have told him some painful -- and surely confusing -- symptoms would probably start right about now.
Instead, DuRocher's home reading mail. It figured that some of his old Oregon coaches would call him when news of his tumor broke, but Oregon fans? Washington State fans wrote him too, he's just now getting through the hundreds and hundreds of e-mails he got and the messages have definitely buoyed him through what's been a pretty boring few weeks.
DuRocher's balance is still a little screwy and playing Xbox makes his eyes hurt. Lappano's suspicion that DuRocher's wildly funny stories featuring "hordes" of female friends "were a little souped up," turned out true; once he left the nurses at the hospital, DuRocher's steady stream of female visitors stopped.
"It's definitely not a hot scar," DuRocher said, offering an exaggerated sigh.
He can't feel the plate and the three-inch scar isn't particularly tender, but he doesn't yet know if he'll get to play football next year. Ellenbogen's polling other doctors and doing some research, and although DuRocher is hopeful, he's not overly optimistic.
"I'm not very fast," he said, "so the chance of me taking a shot in the head is pretty good."
There is one good bit of news, though. He's been cleared to play baseball. That's right, baseball.
A catcher as a high school sophomore, DuRocher woke up one day last spring imagining himself on a pitcher's mound. ("I know," he said, "it doesn't make any sense to me either.") He asked coach Ty Willingham if he could give the sport a shot and Willingham told him, "If you're going to do it, make sure you go be good at it." So he started throwing, his fastball began clocking in in the mid-90s in July and the baseball team's expecting him in its locker room, and its jersey, come Jan. 15.
DuRocher doesn't know if he'll start or come out of the bullpen, he's eternally grateful his new teammates haven't accused him "of making a mockery of their sport," and he's still a little weirded out by being the most famous person on his new team.
"It is sort of surreal," he said. "I wish I was getting all the attention because I'm damn good. I mean, I'm the guy whose last pass was a pick."
And thank goodness for that.