Warner fills 'old coach' with pride

By Chip Marshall, For The Gazette - My Irish eyes were smiling Saturday night, but wearing more red than green while glued to the televised NFC divisional playoff game.

As he has done so often during his distinguished National Football League career, Cedar Rapids home boy Kurt Warner again proved the experts wrong, quarterbacking the Arizona Cardinals to a stunning, 33-13, victory over the heavily favored Carolina Panthers in Charlotte, N.C.

The Cardinals were 9 1/2 point underdogs at Carolina, but Warner tricked all of Las Vegas, its odds makers, bookies and bettors and probably more than half the country's gamblers when he engineered the Cardinals to victory by completing 21 of 32 passes for 220 yards and two touchdowns.

Like a lot of Iowans, and certainly most all Arizonans, I relished nearly every second of the game, excluding the first minute or so, when Carolina scored its first touchdown and whipped the Panthers' faithful worked up into a frenzy.

You see, one of my few claims to fame is, I was blessed to have coached Warner when he was a budding athlete. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.

This story gets better with age as Warner inches his way toward pro football's Hall of Fame.

Some 25 years ago, when Gazette sports editor J.R. Ogden and I were young and restless, we served together as volunteer coaches for the All Saints School's eighth grade boys' basketball team. Following in the footsteps of his late father, longtime All Saints and Immaculate Conception School youth coach and Gazette sports writing legend Jack Ogden, J.R. was head coach. I served as his deputy assistant. Kurt Warner was perhaps our most humble player, and certainly our best.

Kurt was sort of a post/forward on a pretty good team. He didn't act like a star might. He didn't hog the ball or demand it, like some top players are wont to do. He worked hard, kept quiet for the most part and went about his business of scoring and rebounding in workmanlike fashion. Once in a while, we would have to instruct him, saying something like, "Kurt, just take it to the basket. This is your time baby!" He'd nod his head, almost politely, and do just that.

I also remember coaching Kids League baseball teams at Van Vechten Park against Warner. Again, while he was probably the best player on the field most games, a pitcher and a shortstop as I recall, he was modest and unassuming, just a nice kid, nothing more or less, who was well-mannered and showed a genuine respect for his coaches and elders.

Later, as Warner grew up, I covered some of his high school football games when he played at Regis. He was good, not great, and always a willing, cooperative and gracious interviewee.

Kurt went off to college at UNI and I went off to Dixon, Ill., before settling in Chicago. But I followed his story, from fifth-year senior starter and Gateway Conference Player of the Year, to training camp in Green Bay with the Packers, to his years with the Iowa Barnstormers of the Arena Football League and back to stocking shelves at a grocery store in Cedar Falls.

I'd heard he was playing ball in NFL Europe, in Amsterdam, and then saw in the transactions agate that the St. Louis Rams had signed him to a contract.

Then, just as you did, I watched in almost disbelief as Warner resurfaced in 1999 as the Rams' starter, going on to win the NFL's Most Valuable Player award, a Super Bowl championship and game MVP and yet another league MVP award - all in a whirlwind span of three seasons for goodness sakes.

His success as a professional football player blew mine and a lot of other people's minds.

I was fortunate to meet up with Warner several years ago, if only for a few minutes. Kurt and his wife, Brenda, were appearing as guest speakers during the regular weekend of spiritual services at Willow Creek Community Church in suburban South Barrington. Both Warners spoke of Kurt's rise to NFL stardom, but mostly they talked about their faith. As the Warners were leaving the stage, I caught Kurt's eye from my seat below and reintroduced myself.

Warner broke into a big, friendly grin and called out to me, "Chip! Do you live up here now?"

With that, Kurt came over to the security barrier and shook my hand.

Kurt had remembered an old coach. He left me with a warm pat on the back while being ushered off. That's the last I've seen of Kurt other than on TV.

Of course, I've been telling this story a lot in recent weeks. At one time, my wife Nora was impressed. Not so much anymore. And by now, my two daughters, Grace, 7, and Bridget, 4, can repeat my fairy-tale backward.

While watching Warner picking apart the Panthers, and forcing Grace to watch every replay of every pass Kurt completed, she was impressed.

"Dad, you were a good coach."

I could only smile.

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