Former NFL quarterback Todd Marinovich will never make it to the Hall of Fame in Canton. Still, he has an incredible story, which he shares in his raw memoir, Marinovich: Outside the Lines in Football, Art, and Addiction (with Lizzy Wright).
Not a familiar name these days, in the ’90s, Todd Marinovich was synonymous with wasted talent and drug addiction, not necessarily in that order.
After the Los Angeles Raiders canned Marinovich following a failed drug test, he was in and out of rehab, often without a home. Indeed, it’s a minor miracle that Marinovich is alive to tell.
But Marinovich’s life and book are much more than an addiction memoir. It’s the story of a father and son. Todd’s Dad, Marv, a former NFL player and fitness guru, was overzealous about young Todd’s strictly regimented training, which began when Todd was one month old. In Marv’s world, eight-minute miles were on the menu, and McDonald’s was forbidden. No doubt, Tom Brady would approve. But when the media got wind of Marv’s methods, Todd was deemed the “Robo QB” while Marv was vilified as an off-the-rails stage dad.
While Todd earned the starting quarterback position as a freshman at his southern California high school, which is no small task in hyper-competitive Orange County, he struggled to fit in with his older teammates. Todd started drinking at parties, and alcohol and Todd’s addictive personality proved to be a Molotov cocktail. Soon, Todd was smoking weed – a lot. At one high school game, the opposing fans heckled him, chanting, “Marijuanovich.” But pre-social media, Todd’s habit remained under the radar.
Courtesy Amazon.com
As expected, “Robo QB” was one of the most sought-after high school players in the country. It came down to USC, where Marv captained the 1962 national championship team, Stanford, and the dark horse, the University of Miami. Miami coach Jimmy Johnson, the coach with the perfect hair, made a valiant, Hail Mary recruiting plea, even going so far as to delay a plane from taking off, so that Todd would hear him out.
At USC, with Marv not in the next room to mandate push-ups and protein, and all that LA had to offer was at Todd’s fingertips. Despite unofficially leading the Pac-10 in bong hits, Todd helmed the Trojans to the Rose Bowl in his freshman season. But SC coach Larry Smith was on to Todd, and they clashed. Everything came to a head in the final minutes at the Sun Bowl, where ESPN cameras caught Smith and Todd bickering. After the Sun Bowl loss, Todd declared for the NFL draft.
With the Raiders, the reputed bad boys of the NFL at the time, it was SC all over again, this time with a paycheck. Following his inaugural training camp, Todd footed the bill for a team party of Sodom and Gomorrah proportions. Elder statesmen like Marcus Allen tried to rein Todd in, but it was all for naught.
After a win over the New York Giants, Marv told Todd that he was proud of him. And with that, Todd was essentially done with football. Earning his father’s approval was everything.
Well, not exactly, not exactly at all. Todd still needed his fix, and now he wasn’t burdened with the NFL’s mandatory drug tests.
As he descended into the minor leagues of professional football – the CFL and arena – Todd continued his drug use, partaking in black tar heroin, among other substances. In one memorable episode, he couldn’t stop defecating on himself during an arena game.
At a low point (graphic courtesy YouTube)
Enter ESPN, which featured Todd in a 2011 documentary, The Marinovich Project, which is a nice companion piece to Todd’s book. However, it’s clouded by the fact that Todd now admits that he was still using it at the time.
After several run-ins with the law and countless rehab stints, Todd finally did get clean. How he did this is not an exact science. Certainly, therapy didn’t hurt, and becoming a father helped a lot. His painting, which Coach Smith encouraged him to pursue at SC, also played a significant role.
Ultimately, though, I believe that Marv – his greatest advocate through all the highs and lows – made all the difference. In his later years, Marv needed a caretaker, and Todd stepped up, ultimately finding his purpose.
Instead of chasing athletic perfection, this imperfect duo created lasting impressions. While Todd painted, Marv sculpted, side by side.
It was the ultimate high.
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Jon Hart is the author of Unfortunately, I was available illustrated by Coverkitchen
