Guys like Quinton Jackson, who sat out the FCS semifinals this weekend with his Montana teammates. Their plans to play in Friday night's national championship were pinched two weeks ago by Wofford.
That has been hard to live with for Jackson, a cornerback who finally broke into the starting lineup as a senior and finished his career with flare, intercepting a pass against the Terriers.
That game got rough six years ago when his guiding light was snuffed by breast cancer. Debra Beed was more than Jackson's mother and sole guardian. She was his compass, directing him down a path she trusted would bring out the best in her boy.
"Mom was always there, making sure I was playing a sport and everything was OK with school," Jackson recalled. "A 3.0 grade point average and staying positive, those were her rules.
"She told me she knew from the time I was little I would play sports. When I figured out how to climb out of the crib, I turned the TV to ESPN."
Beed's death turned Quinton's life upside down at age 16. He flunked classes and was forced to live with an aunt and two grown cousins in a tiny one-bedroom house, sharing sleeping quarters in a garage.
"Where I was at, there could have been numerous times when I could have really gone downhill," he said. "Growing up in urban Seattle, there's a lot of different temptations. I still have friends that aren't on the right path."
Things improved for Jackson after he moved in with his older brother, Maurice Beed, at age 17. As a high school senior he played QB and safety on the football team, finished his third season of varsity basketball and won a state 400-meter dash title. He also improved academically by taking online courses.
But college football recruiters shied away from Quinton and his checkered past. It put him in a purgatorial state he couldn't understand.
"It was bad because schools showed interest and then they'd just stop calling or tell me they signed somebody else," said Jackson, whose football coach at Renton High in Washington was former NFL great Terry Metcalf. "It was painful. My dream was to go play sports in college."
Jackson was planning to walk on at Washington when Montana called in August of 2004 with a full-ride scholarship offer. Eleven hours later, he arrived in Missoula with a lot to prove.
His freshman football season was, by his own admission, horrible. His sophomore year was difficult because he made a switch from receiver to cornerback.
As a junior he played in all 14 games and had three interceptions. Then his persistence paid off with a starting role as a senior.
"Montana took a chance on me and I want to thank them for that," he said. "All the people who wanted to associate me with people who make bad decisions. It's been like that my whole life.
"I get joy out of proving people wrong in that aspect. A lot of people thought, 'He's a troublemaker and hangs out with the wrong people. He's a thug.' It's funny, you can't judge a book by its cover."
Too often success stories like Jackson's drown in a media cesspool of well-documented failures. Folks read about the players that went to jail on Page A1, while the Quinton Jacksons go largely unnoticed.
You know the familiar criticism: (Team name) never should have taken a chance on (fill in the blank) because he stumbled in the past and he's a risk. Somebody must have been asleep at the wheel to recruit him.
Sound familiar? Of course it does. That's why it's important testimonials on players like Jackson reach the public.
Think back on your life and try to remember if someone showed faith in you. Can't think of a time? Think a little harder.
It should make Griz fans proud that an underdog like Jackson has thrived at Montana. It serves to reinforce what most Missoula transplants judge to be true about the area.
"People are a lot more friendly over here," Jackson said, comparing Missoula to Seattle. "People say 'Hi.' "
"It's a slower pace. It gives you time to adjust."
Jackson's "game" is ongoing, and he certainly hasn't won yet. He hopes to graduate by this time next year.
"I was thinking of maybe becoming a counselor at a high school and possibly coach football," said the sociology major. "I don't like to give up. I've never quit anything. It's not in my genes."
In light of what has happened this year with Griz players running afoul of the law, it's a good bet Montana will be even more careful screening recruits. That's great, but I hope we never see the day when future Quinton Jacksons are penalized by a handful of wayward ex-players.
That would be tragic.
"If I wasn't here," Jackson said, "I don't know what I'd be doing."
Columnist Bill Speltz can be reached at 523-5255 or at bill.speltz@lee.net.
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