COLLEGE FOOTBALL ’92 : Look Who’s Talking, Again : Star Running Back Robert Smith Has Been Taken Back by the Ohio State Football Team, but Hasn’t Taken Back What He Said

COLUMBUS, Ohio —  Picture Day at Ohio State. Running back Robert Smith glances warily at the growing number of Buckeye fans assembled behind the four-foot-high metal barriers at field’s edge. Already the fans are waving at him, yelling his name, pleading for him to come closer.

“I don’t really want to do this,” Smith says as he reluctantly walks toward the crowd.

Too late. Like it or not, Smith, 20, has become the centerpiece of an Ohio State program that probably would prefer that the controversial halfback run his legs more and his mouth less. It might as well wish for a victory against hated Michigan or an end to the annual rumors involving Coach John Cooper’s departure.

In short, it isn’t going to happen.

Smith says what he wants, when he wants, how he wants and to whom he wants. In a way, he is a conventional coach’s worst nightmare: a once-in-a-decade player with a brain and an opinion.

It was a year ago that Smith, who rushed for 1,126 yards and earned national freshman of the year honors, abruptly quit the Ohio State team, charging that Cooper and then-assistant coach Elliott Uzelac mistreated players and cared about academics only when a player’s eligibility was in question.

A glowing recommendation for the Cooper and Uzelac resumes, it wasn’t.

Smith didn’t stop there. He said he would return only if the university removed Cooper and Uzelac. He said players had been stripped of their dignity and were treated with little respect. He said an assistant coach once told him, “You’re taking your grades too seriously.” He said he was reprimanded for studying after a 10:30 p.m. bed check.

Smith said a lot, enough to send shivers down the backs of every college coach and athletic director in the country. Never mind the implied blackmail--after all, Smith is not the first player to throw a public temper tantrum and storm away. But he was the first, at least in recent memory, to challenge not only a coach’s authority, but the system that provided him with that power. In one emotional, dizzying August day, Smith became a symbol, a hero, a spokesman, a malcontent or a villain. Take your pick.

“Until you put yourself in that situation, you can’t understand it,” Smith said. “Obviously with the glitter out there, people say, ‘Why would you want to give up college football? It’s such a wonderful thing. It’s so much fun.’ They didn’t realize what it is.”

The reactions to his decision were interesting. Educators applauded his nerve. Congressmen invoked his name. Ohio State fans took turns praising and blasting Smith in the newspapers and on the radio sports-talk shows. Uzelac seethed and later resigned under pressure. Cooper denied everything. Nervous teammates carefully chose their words. University officials investigated.

An image was redefined. By going public with his criticisms, Smith exposed Ohio State and himself to scrutiny. And now, 12 months after the outburst, Smith says, “I’d do it all over again.”

In the ongoing contradiction that is the Robert Smith Story, he is back on the Buckeye football team despite vowing that he would never play for Cooper again. The system that he criticized--and still does--is being used to move him closer to his eventual goal, which is an NFL contract, and later, enough money to finance his plans for medical school and a career as a surgeon.

“It’s a business,” he said. “It’s a means to an end, that’s all. The game itself is fun, but the system is out of whack.”

This is vintage Smith. He likens his outspokenness to that of NBA star Charles Barkley. But where Barkley’s comments are often dipped in humor, Smith’s remarks are soaked in venom. If his soapbox were any higher, Smith would get vertigo.

“I’m really to the point where I don’t care what people think,” he said.

If Ohio State followers are upset about his return or angry about his comments, they didn’t show it at the recent Picture Day, where Buckeye players, in full uniform, were required to mingle with the masses. Smith drew the longest line of admirers and well-wishers.

One woman thrust her infant daughter into Smith’s hands for a snapshot. The child wore a visor that read, “I’m A Little Buckeye From Ohio State.”

A man armed with a video recorder aimed his lens at Smith and yelled, “Hey, Robert, how ‘bout one, ‘Go, Bucks!’ baby!”

Smith didn’t hesitate. “Go, Bucks!” he yelled back.

A mother pushed her daughter, who was clad in a homemade Ohio State football uniform, complete with helmet, toward Smith. Smith crouched down for the photograph, smiled and then moved on to the next request.

A man wearing a Local 2867 International Assn. of Fire Fighters cap wanted an autograph. Another man blurted, “Robert, Robert . . . how do you feel this year?”

Smith barely looked up while autographing an Ohio State pennant. “Good as ever,” he said. “Better than ever.”

Another man yelled from the stands, “Give ‘em hell, Robert!”

On it went, the mugging with grandmothers, the pictures with babies, the signing of shirts, footballs, hats. For more than 30 minutes, Smith graciously honored all requests, however silly.

Nearby, sitting on a set of makeshift bleachers used for this season’s Ohio State team photograph, was Cooper. A year ago he was defending his program against the many accusations leveled by Smith. Now he spoke of putting the episode behind him.

“I think it’s over now,” he said. “I think it’s been over. He’s on the team. He’s been on the team a long time. He’s been working out with our players all summer. We’re ready to roll.”

But beneath the happy-face exteriors, there remains a certain awkwardness and the lingering suspicion that Smith isn’t through talking. Smith said it has been suggested to him by Ohio State football officials that he curtail his comments. Did the orders come from Cooper?

“Not directly,” Smith said.

And what of the reception from his teammates?

“It’s been mixed, just like the general public’s,” he said.

So Smith has put a governor on his remarks . . . sort of. When asked to detail what he would do if he were NCAA executive director for a day--a loaded question custom-built for Smith’s wheelhouse--he smiled, shook his head and said he would pass on that one. “Inquiring minds will find out one day,” he said.

When pressed on exactly why he chose to return to a system he despised, Smith declined to elaborate on an earlier explanation.

“I’m not trying to cause any trouble,” he said.

But Smith can’t help himself. Every time he opens his mouth, there is a 50-50 chance someone will gag on his granola while reading the morning paper. It was only a few weeks ago, in an interview with USA Today, that Smith said that college athletes “are like indentured servants.”

Reminded of the interview, Cooper said: “Players are used? Well, Robert’s entitled to his opinions.”

Entitled, but not necessarily encouraged.

When it became clear that Smith wanted to rejoin the team, quarterback Kirk Herbstreit and other seniors met to discuss the matter. There was no official vote, but it was clear that a majority of the Buckeyes wanted Smith back.

“I was the only one who had a little objection,” Herbstreit said. “I want him, obviously. But we’re starting to form a winning-team camaraderie, and I don’t want that hurt in any manner. My only (concern) was that I didn’t want him to come back and hurt the team atmosphere.”

Other teammates have forgiven Smith for his supposed sins but haven’t forgotten what his absence might have cost the Buckeyes. Ohio State finished 8-4 last season, was third in the Big Ten, lost to Michigan (for the fourth consecutive time) and lost to Syracuse in the Hall of Fame Bowl. Could he have made a difference? Put it this way: Smith broke the Buckeye freshman rushing record set by two-time Heisman Trophy winner Archie Griffin. His freshman rushing totals were only 350 yards fewer than what Ohio State’s two leading ground gainers had last season.

“Robert still has a lot of friends on this team,” linebacker Jason Simmons said. “I guess there are a few people who didn’t agree with what he had to say. I was disappointed (when he quit). I felt let down.”

And then there is star linebacker Steve Tovar, who described the Smith situation as such: “Like my mother always says: ‘One monkey don’t stop no show.’ ”

But Smith, in his own way, did stop the show. His outburst last year caused athletic department administrators and coaches to re-evaluate their programs, to determine if meaningful educational opportunities were provided for its players.

“If you make one person listen, then it’s already worth it,” Smith said.

Cooper said he reassessed his program and found it to be in working order. His only fault, he said, was his lack of communication with Smith. And maybe it is merely a coincidence, but on pages 10 and 11 of the 1992 Ohio State football guide is a large photo of Cooper and the accompanying headline: “Committed to Athletic and Academic Excellence.”

Smith doesn’t dispute the claim. If anything, he said, Ohio State’s academic support system has few peers. But there still exists, he insisted, barriers to taking full advantage of an athletic scholarship.

“If you can’t stand up for what you believe in, you’re not human,” he said. “You’re a sheep and there are far too many of those.”

If it were up to Smith, spring football practice would be eliminated. Players would be allowed to work during the season. They wouldn’t be isolated from the student body. Salaries would be paid for football services rendered.

As for the argument that scholarships are reward enough for playing college football, Smith disagreed.

“It’s not a bad deal,” he said. “But what if professional football players all of a sudden were only paid $10,000 a year? Do you think they would be happy? We’re getting an opportunity for an education, and that’s up to the individual player. What they do with that money--and that’s basically what it is, money that is floating around--some people put it to an education. Some people waste it on an education. And some people take advantage of it.

“Just because you get something out of a deal doesn’t mean you’re getting enough out of it,” he said, “or getting what you should get. Just because you’re compensated doesn’t mean it’s adequate compensation. I think that’s where the problem is. And saying that the opportunity is there for that education, that doesn’t make any sense if you’re going to say, ‘Here, we’re going to offer you a chance for an education, but we’re going to stand in the way and make sure that you don’t get it the right way.’ That doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m not saying all the schools are like that. But the argument doesn’t make any sense if you say, ‘You’re getting an education out of it, now shut up.’ ”

Smith arrived at Ohio State in 1990 and instantly was hailed the greatest thing since the Buckeye band started dotting the “i” at halftime. He was smart, thoughtful, a model student who happened to be one of the nation’s most heavily recruited players. Even Griffin, the only two-time Heisman winner, said Smith was special after watching him make his college debut.

The honeymoon lasted one year. Then Smith quit the team, blasted the program, converted his scholarship to track and field and watched his image take a beating.

“It’s basically been torn down,” he said.

Buckeye teammate Greg Smith was especially vocal, accusing the running back of blaming Cooper and Uzelac for his own academic problems, which included skipping classes and struggling in a summer chemistry class.

“Yeah, I missed class . . . I still do,” Robert Smith said. “But I still get the job done. Greg’s the same way. He screwed around last summer. Nobody’s perfect.”

These are odd times for Smith. He is here because he has no real choice. He would have transferred to USC or Stanford, but NCAA rules would have required him to sit out a year. So much for an earlier promise to never play for another Division I school.

He is also here despite the presence of Cooper. And, according to Smith, he would have returned even had Uzelac stayed. Of course, nothing is forever. If the right NFL situation arose, “I’d leave in a heartbeat,” he said. “Coaches do it all the time. I don’t see why players get grief for it.”

For the moment, Smith is still a little Buckeye from Ohio State. He is good enough to win a Heisman, brash enough to get it shoved down his throat. He is a breath of fresh air. He is an ill wind. It all depends on the listening point.

But if nothing else, Smith is never predictable. Not on the field, not off it.

“I guess I’ve always seen myself as a spokesman,” he said. “I’ve always been up on a soapbox since I was young.”

True enough. His mother tells of the time her son took exception to a teacher’s methods. It seems the teacher was being, in Smith’s words, “repetitive.”

The teacher summoned Smith outside the classroom and promptly whacked him over the head with a magazine. Then Smith was sent to the principal’s office.

He was in kindergarten.