Here's a good article on Joe Jurevicius. He spoke up for himself, and was rewarded with the increased playing time he deserved, and led his team to victory. He didn't do it the way so many blacks do -- by publicly bitching, or privately yelling and threatening -- but by politely reminding Jon Gruden of how good he is. White athletes, especially in the "taboo" positions, can learn from what Jurevicius did.
JUREVICIUS RETURNS A LITTLE SOUL TO THE BUCS
By GARY SHELTON, Times Sports Columnist
Published November 22, 2004
TAMPA - Start with the simple image of a man in an end zone. Nothing unusual there. A long time ago, he used to spend a lot of time in end zones.
Consider a routine pass in a run-of-the mill game. Nothing exciting, really. Just a 9-yard throw and an easy catch.
Remember it as another successful play against an overmatched opponent. Nothing to brag about. Just another grin on a day that went right.
To tell the truth, the rejuvenation of Joe Jurevicius didn't look like anything special.
Why, then, did it feel so much like the healing of a football team?
This was the way it used to be, remember? Jurevicius was in the end zone, and the crowd was roaring, and the plight of the Bucs didn't seem so bad. That was always Jurevicius' gift. He would catch a memory, and his team would ride the momentum.
This, then, was like old times. Jurevicius had reached the promised land, and there was faith, patriotism, talk of angels in the air. Jurevicius scored once, then again, and his team looked cool and coordinated around him.
Did you see his face? Did you see him run across the end zone and give the ball to the Air Force captain? Did you see him salute? Did you see him, um, dance?
This is the way it used to be for Jurevicius, for the Bucs. The last time he was special, back in last season's opener against the Eagles, was the last time the Bucs were special.
Remember him that night? He was the guy who made catches with the hands of a juggler, the feet of a tight-rope walker, the body of a contortionist. The Bucs were a team that looked, for a night, as if they might repeat their title.
Oh, but that was long ago. For Jurevicius, the past 14 months have been spent in that shadowy region where broken players go. He injured his knee, then hurt it again. He hurt his back. He went from favorite to forgotten. As for the Bucs, well, they spent a little time limping themselves.
"It's been a rough 14 months," Jurevicius said. "It's been frustrating. You play this game because you love it, and you realize that you only have so much time. When you work hard, when you have setbacks, it's hard."
Going into Sunday's game, Jurevicius hadn't had a great deal of impact on the Bucs since his return a month ago. He had only six catches, none particularly memorable.
This week, he talked to Bucs coach Jon Gruden about his situation. "Don't forget about me," Jurevicius said. "I'll make a play for you."
No, Jurevicius said, he didn't "light up" Gruden.
Instead, he lit up the 49ers.
His first touchdown came midway through the second quarter, when he caught a 9-yard touchdown pass from Brian Griese. Jurevicius immediately ran toward Air Force Capt. Ryan Silver and gave him the ball.
"I absolutely love the military," Jurevicius said. "I figured the least I could do was give the man a football and say thank you to our military. That's not just for him. That's for the whole military.
"As far as saluting, I don't know if that's appropriate to salute if you're not in the military, so I just gave this half-a-- salute. I don't want to offend anyone. It was my way of saying thank you."
Silver, with the 333rd Flight Squadron, seemed moved by the gesture. He plans to put the ball in a glass case and display it beside an American flag he used when he flew over Iraq on a mission four years ago.
Silver's job Sunday was to coordinate the flyover. After that, he was just another Jurevicius fan.
"He's a role model," Silver said. "I think if you have a child who you want to play football, you look at Joe Jurevicius. He's a quality, quality guy."
For Jurevicius, it is always that way. For a quiet man, there is an openness to him that allows you to share his emotions. It was that way late in 2002, when his late son Michael was ill. It was that way last year, when Jurevicius came back too soon from his knee injury.
It was that way Sunday, too. After the game, Jurevicius talked about his infant daughter, Caroline, born during training camp. He talked about Michael, too. Before each game, Jurevicius kneels and writes his son's initials in the end zone.
"My angel upstairs," Jurevicius said. "I always think of it as taking a ride with Dad. Today, he took a ride."
Just before the half, Jurevicius caught his second touchdown, a 42-yarder from Griese. As he was catching the ball, he took a hard shot from a 49ers safety. He rose and began to dance.
Jurevicius has plans for that ball, too. He wants to paint it pink and give it to Caroline.
Oh, and that dance? Said Jurevicius: "I opened myself up for a lot of abuse."
Perhaps this is the reason Tampa Bay has embraced Jurevicius during his time here. Other receivers catch more balls, other receivers make more money. But Jurevicius has struck a chord.
Still, even Jurevicius' fans do not realize just how far back he has come, just how hard his rehabilitation has been. It is a million-mile journey, a hundred days and a dozen setbacks, sweat and pain and doubt and frustration. It is being exiled to the fringe of the sport and having to walk on glass to get back.
"You can't put into words how hard he has worked," running back Mike Alstott said. "A lot of players would have retired."
Jurevicius didn't. He figured he had a few more plays in him, a few more moments. Maybe there are still a few cheers for him out there.
Who knows? Maybe you can say the same for the Bucs.
Edited by: Don Wassall
