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Thursday, March 3, 2005
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Passing into history
Mills moves on from PSU career, leaves behind lasting QB legacy
By Jenny Vrentas
Collegian Staff Writer
Ignore his face for a second. By now, of course, that's an impossible task -- the look of his tousled brown hair and lopsided grin has become all too familiar. But for a few moments, this man is a mystery.
He lets you into his apartment, on the other side of University Drive, where he lives alone. He's just had dinner with his friend, who is convinced the homemade tomato sauce has been spiked with hot sauce.
"Can you please tell me you put the hot sauce in?" his friend pleads.
"Yeah, but, literally, only this much," the man admits, signaling barely a pinch. "I'll make you dinner tomorrow."
You're there to interview this man, but he's never been one to talk much about himself. He'd even rather talk about you. "Do you like hot sauce?" he asks. And his answers to your questions scarcely last longer than a sentence or two. He's not being rude or terse or abrupt. He's being himself -- three parts modest, one part guarded.
But he can't keep everything inside. The outward manifestations betray him before any words have the chance: The way he grips the cloth football he's fiddling with during the course of the conversation. The pictures hanging above his bed -- Johnny Unitas -- and his closet -- Boomer Esiason. The 2004 Penn State football yearbook tucked in the bottom corner of his coffee table. His Redskins cap.
Oh, this man is a quarterback. Even if he were faceless, you would know. He is Zack Mills. He was the Penn State quarterback. You could try to ignore the connection between those two facts, pointing to everything about him currently that is very not the Penn State quarterback. He's just a normal student taking a couple of grad classes this spring. He has put off all his reading about ancient Greece until the night before it is due. He, too, downplays the connection.
"Because I'm not part of the team anymore, in some ways I'm an outsider," Mills says. "I don't go to team meetings, I don't go to lifts, I don't know a whole lot about what they're talking about."
Fair enough. One hitch though -- separating "Zack Mills" from "The Penn State quarterback" can't be done. The two are forever intertwined -- in him, in you, in all future editions of those football yearbooks.
Consider two ideas: One. Hot sauce ruins pasta sauce. Two. The spirit of the Penn State quarterback will always live inside Zack Mills, and vice versa. Facts of life.
Dear Zack:
Having followed PSU football for more than 30 years, two names have historically fallen into the category of 'hero' for me. Now there are three -- John Cappelletti, Shane Conlan and Zack Mills. I will always admire your courage, humility and class. YOU ARE ... PENN STATE!!!
Sincerely,
Leon (State College resident)
It was a night late last November, a week or two after the end of the 4-7 football season, and two friends met at the Sports Cafe, the downtown bar farthest removed from any of the campus football facilities. It went like it would for any two friends meeting at the bar -- a couple of drinks and they got to talking, about life, sports, each other.
But it was a different night for these two guys -- Mills and fellow quarterback Michael Robinson -- because, more than ever before, they let any emotional guard down.
"Mike, some of the things you do amaze me," Mills said.
More than three months later, Robinson still remembers that night, with a grin. "I never knew he felt that way about me," he said.
Ask any Penn State quarterback to define the position, and there are two things he can't help but mention. One, the quarterback will receive the brunt of the praise or the blame. Two, controversy is inherent to the job. Mills, of course, knows that as well as anyone. He's been through 5-6, 9-4, 3-9, and 4-7 seasons, and he's competed, first with Matt Senneca, then with Robinson, and then, to a lesser extent, with Anthony Morelli.
But even in that sort of high-pressure situation -- bearing responsibility for the fate of the team, the job always up for grabs -- Mills never lashed out and never strained his relationships with the other quarterbacks. Nights like the one with Robinson wouldn't have happened if he had; Senneca wouldn't have turned on the Penn State games to check up on Mills if he had.
"People used to say he and I hated each other; we'd sit and laugh," Senneca said. "We went through it; we took it on together. He was having a lot of success, I was dealing with disappointment, and he was right there picking me up at practice."
Seemingly, that's the Mills-patented formula -- a four-item combo of calmness (nothing fazed him), class (his actions earned him respect in all situations), humility (he never fancied himself untouchable) and courageousness (he weathered the worst while daring the best). To be the Penn State quarterback, such a perfect balance is needed.
He had it in October 2001, when he first captured the hearts of a Nittany Nation by trotting onto the field after Senneca had been injured and leading his team to a come-from-behind-victory over Northwestern, the first win of the season. It was there for Penn State coach Joe Paterno's milestone win No. 324, through the erasing of the 18-point deficit against Ohio State and the dramatic 69-yard touchdown run. And it hadn't disappeared -- not even the humility part -- by the time of the Nebraska victory the following September, the win that earned him a standing ovation in a Monday class.
It persisted when he was angry, like he was in the wake of the Capital One Bowl game loss, when one mediocre team performance was all it took for Paterno to open up the quarterback job, in the post-game press conference. "That was my best season, and here he was, opening up the competition right after the bowl game was over," Mills said. "That seriously really, really bothered me as far as being angry."
He tempered his emotion, though, and Robinson never saw it. He just saw the Mills who, in spring training, was sure to help his challenger whenever he needed it, to the point where Robinson wondered, "Yo, this dude, does he want me to take his job?"
Even when Mills' confidence waned a bit, as he admits it did when he had injuries (sprained MCL, separated right shoulder, mild concussion) and when he received much scrutiny (for 3-9 and 4-7 seasons), he never let up. Calmness, class, humility, courageousness -- he had that down.
And by the end of his senior year, by the final time he would ever be the Penn State quarterback, it had become pretty clear that this Mills formula wasn't quite a formula at all. It was just Mills, in a four-dimensional way, and neither circumstance nor situation could seem to change that. He had the demeanor he needed to be quarterback, but he didn't need to be quarterback to have that demeanor.
"What you see is what you get," said Dave Carruthers, his high school coach. "I don't see him any different anywhere. And that steadiness about him is what makes him such a great person."
"People see Zack as a symbol of having heart and courage, not giving up, being humble," said Alexandra Hill, his girlfriend of more than three years. "He took everything for what it was worth. He was him."
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PHOTO: Marissa Kutoloski
Zack Mills looks to pass during the 2004 season opener against Akron. The game was the start to Mills' final season as the PSU quarterback.
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Hi Zack,
Thanks for an enjoyable three and a half years at QB! Please accept my apologies for the drunk idiots who chose to boo you regularly.
Good luck in your future endeavors,
Brendan (Penn State student)
The good about Mills' career is that, when he graduated from Penn State in December, with his kinesiology degree, he owned or shared 18 school football records, including career total offense (7,796 yards) and career touchdown passes (41).
The bad is that Mills was quarterback during the worst four-year span, in terms of record, in Penn State football history, as the team went 21-26 and played in just a single bowl game.
The ugly is everything Mills had to deal with en route to realizing both the good and the bad, from the inconsistent receivers and porous offensive line in his final two seasons to the booing from the fans and the nasty e-mail and phone messages.
Remember the first rule of being the Penn State quarterback? The brunt of the praise or blame falls on you. When it's praise, that's alright. But when it's blame, and you're being told something's wrong with you and you're being asked to pinpoint the team's problems -- the reasons behind the bad and the ugly -- that's not alright.
"It's been a frustrating two years," Mills said. "I've had a lot of ups and downs, more downs than ups. It just takes its toll on you. The stress and all the pressure and dealing with all that stuff kind of wears you down and sometimes, you just don't want to ... (pause) ... go on with it."
Even now, if you ask him to look back and discuss the team's struggles, to try to provide answers now that he has a little bit of perspective, it's hard for him. "I don't really reflect about that," he said. "When I reflect, I get the frustration back of having to go through that."
And, for as much as he was expected to start defending himself now that his Penn State career is over, to start offering explanations that, at least in part, take some of the blame off of himself, he will never do that. It's not in his character. Why spend four years playing the part of the good guy and giving the occasional half-truths, as he admits he sometimes did, if only to start passing off responsibility once his career is over?
"There's times throughout my career when I wished [the media] would have asked me certain questions," Mills said. "Or, put it this way, I wish that I could have answered certain questions. I just, even now, I have to give the company line and move on.
"If I could have said something, I would have said it's not all my fault. But I couldn't do that, that's not my personality, that's not how I am. I just kind of take responsibility for it and move on. And if people aren't satisfied with that, that's fine. That's what they're gonna get."
It's a noble approach; it's the only approach the Penn State quarterback can take. That much Mills learned from Senneca, who learned from the quarterbacks before him, who learned from the quarterbacks before them, and so on. But being noble didn't take the pain away, it just made it that much worse.
It was an overwhelming pain that didn't stop aching in his core, not in the middle of class, not on the walk home to the lonely apartment on the edge of campus. Anytime it felt like it might be subsiding, all it took was one chorus of booing or one comment from the head coach about using the backup and there it was again, back and stronger than before.
Mills didn't let himself read the papers, the ones he knew all those fans in Beaver Stadium were seeing, because he wanted to avoid those inevitable twinges he would have felt when seeing his struggles analyzed. He might have tried to mask his emotion, and it worked often enough, but he's not a robot -- the way his pale eyes would scan the floor after games and his voice would falter on 9:30 a.m. media conference calls all too often betrayed him.
Others around him felt the pain, too, those who most care about him, like Carruthers, who admits "I felt bad I encouraged him to even get involved with Penn State and do this, I felt so bad to do this to him." Mills always reassured him, saying he shouldn't feel that way, that everything was just fine. No matter how strong the pain got, though, he could never bring himself to succumb to it, even though his predecessor, Senneca, did, when he walked away from Penn State football, in January 2002, with a year of eligibility still remaining.
"No way was I coming back, no way was it even worth it to me," Senneca said. "But he must have seen some kind of hope in coming back, he followed what he believed in, and it worked out fine. I never heard that kid say he couldn't do something; I never heard those words come out of his mouth."
To encourage him to do just that, to ignore the pain and follow his beliefs, Mills needed that support group he so often mentioned -- to them, he could talk; to them, he didn't have to be noble, because their support was unconditional.
He would call his parents in Maryland once a day during the season, at night or midday, and they would abide by their policy of not talking about football unless their son brought it up.
He would meet with Penn State sports psychologist Dr. David Yukelson, who helped him "keep the right mind when things aren't necessarily going the right way." He had weekly conversations penciled in with Carruthers every Thursday night, and, before games, Senneca would call and leave a message: "I'll be watching you; go out and play the way you and I know you can play."
And there was, of course, Hill, who, in compensation for spending the fall 2004 semester student teaching outside Philadelphia, would rearrange her schedule to be available when she thought Mills would need to talk. They had a before-game ritual, in which Mills would call her once, then twice, and even at 3 a.m. the morning of a game, if he happened to wake up.
"We stressed to him that regardless of what the pressures were, regardless of what the feedback was," his dad, Eric, said, "the people that really cared were the ones who were a part of his support group.
"He's faced pressure and scrutiny that most people will never face, and I truly believe that. All his blemishes and good traits are out there for everybody to see, and he did that between the ages of 19 and 23, and it's only going to make him a stronger person and a better person. I truly believe he will never back away from a challenge -- he might not succeed, but I don't know anybody in life who does succeed in everything."
I don't pray too often for a football game, but I prayed today that you had a good final game because I thought you "deserved" one. Thanks for giving your heart, your soul, your body and your all for Penn State! I know it is only a game, but for this middle-aged Penn State grad, players like you make me proud I graduated from Penn State.
Sincerely,
Darrell (Penn State Class of 1975)
For that one day, on which there were overcast skies and a mist suspended in the air, it was as though all the stars were perfectly aligned for the creation of something fantastically wonderful.
That, or the gods of college football had conspired to cast a shadow of relief on a far-less-than-Happy Valley. Or, perhaps, it was simply all 101,486 individuals, who were lining the metal benches for the final time that fall, offering up prayer to whatever higher being in which they put their faith, for that Saturday to be truly magnificent.
It was Mills' last day as the Penn State quarterback, the conclusion to a seemingly everlasting career, and, by whatever means it happened, supernatural or not, November 20, 2004 was, in all senses of the word, a truly magical afternoon. For it to have been any other way would have been less than fitting.
Kickoff was at noon and the opponent was Michigan State, a team that had recently dismantled the once top-of-the-conference Wisconsin Badgers and needed just two more victories to become bowl eligible. Penn State was supposed to be one such victory, "the practice squad before their bowl game," as the Spartans trash-talked on the line of scrimmage. That expectation wasn't meant to be. A happily emotional Senior Day for Mills was.
Mills did everything for the last time that day -- sitting in the front seat of the first bus, the spot reserved for the Penn State quarterback; catching the eye of his family members as the bus rolled past their traditional perch on Hastings Road; running out of the tunnel in front of the sea of fans wearing that trusty blue No. 7 jersey. These little actions, performed countless times before, had pieced together his career, and, on that November afternoon, they were piecing together his finale.
The stadium remained somewhat tense throughout the first half, and, with a halftime score of MSU 6, PSU 3, nothing was guaranteed. Then came the third quarter -- a 28-0 Penn State scoring run, three Spartan balls intercepted, one Spartan punt blocked -- that was so mind-blowing, it's hard to believe it was anything but heaven-sent. Things that were a rarity all season, like 12-play, 75-yard offensive drives and rushing touchdowns by Mills, suddenly seemed so simple.
Judging by the numbers, Mills was fantastic: 105 yards passing, 74 yards rushing, and three touchdowns, two on the ground and one in the air. Judging by the crowd, he was the hero of the day, as there was not a single boo, but, rather, a standing ovation when he came off the field in the fourth quarter. And judging by the look on his face when his parents, sister and girlfriend came onto the field during the final minutes, he was, rightfully so, superbly content.
"Most games where he plays well, you can't tell, he doesn't show it," Hill said. "But the last game, you could tell."
In the travel bag he takes to games, Mills carries an e-mail from his mom, with the words to several hand-picked verses from scripture. The last is Psalm 27:14 -- "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord."
Final Score: Penn State 37, Michigan State 13.
Congratulations on a great game and a great PSU career Zack! While your career from a win-loss standpoint didn't turn out the way you probably planned, you gave me some of my fondest PSU memories over the past 4 years. My 5 year old son and I were in the stands Saturday proudly wearing our #7 jersies. He has been running around the house with that shirt on chanting "Zack Attack" since he was 3 (yes ... he heard me say it). I graduated from Penn State 22 years ago and every once in awhile a player comes along who reminds me why I am Penn State Proud!!
All the best,
Phil (Penn State Class of 1982)
"Zack" was only seventh or eighth on the list of potential baby names that Tom and Nicole Kovalchik had compiled in preparation for the birth of their first child. But on the November day in 2002 when their son arrived, the pre-decided name of "Garrett" suddenly didn't seem to fit.
The newborn had a full head of dark hair, and both mother and father had pictured a "Garrett" having light brown or blonde strands. It was then that the name "Zack" -- not "Zachary," not "Zach," only "Zack" -- was again considered.
"Nicole, he doesn't look like a Garrett," pleaded Tom, a Penn State graduate and, by extension, fervent football fan. "Zack fits much better."
"I know you want to name him that," Nicole said. "He'll be daddy's little boy."
Two days later, the little boy -- Zack Thomas Kovalchik -- received his first tiny No. 7 jersey, courtesy of a classmate of Tom's. "Watching him play, the way he came in as a freshman," Tom said of Mills, his son's namesake, "he's the type of person I want my son to grow into."
There are some individuals for whom Mills has indelibly impacted the course of their lives, some for whom he transcends the narrow scope of being the Penn State quarterback, 2001 to 2004. Sometime, somewhere, they found in him something they could love and, once they did, that was it. Forever linked by having experienced the Mills era, this is their bond: All can say they loved him at one point. Most can say they will love him for life.
His good character had adults hoping their sons and daughters would grow up to be just like him. "I will always tell my own sons and the many young kids I coach, if they would want to emulate someone," one fan wrote to him, "you'd be the man."
His role as the field general combined with his approachability had children idolizing him, like the little 6-year-old who threw a Zack Mills-themed birthday party last winter, complete with a Zack Mills piñata, a Zack Mills birthday cake and the innovative game of "pin the No. 7 on the jersey." Imagine his surprise when Mills himself showed up to play basketball with the invited guests.
His innocent good looks made many a girl go wild, including the foursome with the "Got Mills?" shirts, who baked him chocolate chip cookies before his final game, and Nicole Karasek, who proposed to him at the 2004 Blue-White game. Her shirt read: "I'll miss you Zach! Marry me?" He signed, "Yes!"
And his fame on campus ensured that, for anyone who was a Penn State student when he was the Penn State quarterback, from those who graduated in December 2001 to those who enrolled in August 2004, Zack Mills defined Penn State football just as much as Joe Paterno. "When I think of Penn State football," said Gina Villani, one of the "Got Mills?" girls, "that's who I'm going to think of."
This man who has been so loved is about to move on now, though -- that's the way being the Penn State quarterback works. You have your time, and, when your duties are done, you have other dreams to which you must tend. Mills might go on to make an NFL roster -- that's the dream for which he's currently training -- or might become some 15-year-old lefty's high school football coach.
But after he leaves, he might find that, years later, there on a shelf in his new home is his senior banquet gift from Hill, a compilation of more than 100 of the encouraging e-mails he received over the last year of his Penn State career. Messages of love, thanks and admiration for the Penn State quarterback. Open it up, and the words pour out.
Zack, You've given us some of the most thrilling moments we've ever seen in Blue and White...
He'll flash his lopsided grin, flip his Redskins cap backwards, and sit down to read some more.
The Penn State quarterback will never leave him.
PHOTO: Natalie Tranelli
Penn State quarterback Zack Mills (7) looks past the field to the thousands of cheering fans in the waning moments of his last home game at Beaver Stadium.
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