This
article originally appeared here on CF.C and in the Apple Cup edition of Crimson
& Gray magazine in 1998.
At most
schools, he would be considered the marquee alum. Fans would fondly
recall his legendary arm-strength, his poise in the pocket, his precision
touchdown strikes. And like proud parents, they would boast of his lengthy NFL
tenure, highlighted by a Super Bowl MVP award.
But at
Washington State, Mark Rypien -- though far from being an afterthought --
is not the first name that comes to mind when great signal-callers are
remembered.
After
all, it's a crowded huddle of big-name passers here at Quarterback U. In the
last 25 years, WSU has amassed a tradition of quarterback excellence perhaps
unequaled in college football. And while the "Fantastic Five" of Jack
Thompson, Rypien, Timm Rosenbach, Drew Bledsoe, and Ryan Leaf
is usually thought of as a lump sum, Ryp's name rarely, if ever, surfaces when
the question of the single greatest is posed.
It's
understandable why. The other four were first-round NFL draft picks; Rypien was
a sixth rounder. Three -- Rosenbach, Bledsoe, and Leaf -- led their teams to the
promised land: A bowl game; Rypien, as a junior, came about seven points short
of a bowl invitation.
And
although his name still appears near the top of a club record or two, Rypien's
career numbers -- handicapped by a run-first offense featuring Rueben Mayes
and Kerry Porter -- fall short of Thompson's and Leaf's. Even his
Super Bowl MVP award and championship ring, earned at the helm of the Washington
Redskins, are mere asterisks to Rypien the Cougar.
But in
recent months, family tragedy has offered us greater perspective on Mark Rypien
-- insights not found in bowl games or passing records. Life has placed him in a
terrifying series of "fourth and longs," and somehow he has stood tall in the
pocket, like a champion.
Wouldn't
it be fantastic if life offered us the same options as a football game? If only
we could call a time-out when faced with adversity or elect to punt when a
critical illness pinned us deep. Sadly, for Mark and his family, real life has a
harsher set of rules.
The
Rypiens have faced a degree of suffering and loss that most of us, God willing,
will never experience. Yet amazingly, through the tragedy of relentless brain
tumors that eventually claimed the life of his three-year-old son Andrew, to the
simultaneous nightmare of his wife Annette's own battle with cancer, Mark has
managed to inspire us. His strength, his devotion to his family, and his
survival of the worst single event that could befall a parent: These are the
true yard-markers of greatness.
Mark
Rypien has given us the gift of empathy -- a trait that seems in short supply in
this day and age. Because of him we've reevaluated our own lives and asked
ourselves a question too often ignored or left unanswered: Would we have the
strength to survive such heartache? And most of all, he has reminded us that
what truly is important, what really matters, is only a hug
away.
So the
next time I cast my ballot for the "All-Time Greatest" Cougar quarterback, I'll
write in the name of Ryan Leaf or some future Wazzu superstar. But I'll pause a
moment before passing over the name of Mark Rypien. And I'll
remember.
I'll
remember how, as a Spokane high school senior, he said no to football
juggernauts Notre Dame, USC, and others, so he could play for the "hometown"
team. And I'll remember 1984, his finest year as a Cougar, when he was named
first-team all-Pac-10. And in my mind's eye, I'll see his final touchdown pass
as a Cougar, to Kitrick Taylor in ice-covered Husky Stadium, to win the
1985 Apple Cup, 21-20.
And I'll
remember his son Andrew. Because that would mean the most to Mark
Rypien