Nobody at Oregon will come right out and say it. Nobody wants to be the one to tell Onterrio Smith it would have been him on the $250,000 Times Square billboard -- if he just could have guaranteed no more screwups before the end of the most important season of his life. Nobody at Oregon will tell the Ducks' best player, maybe the best tailback in college football, that they've run out of fingers to cross, that they absolutely, positively trust him -- sort of.

Instead, Oregon played it safe and plastered All-Pac-10 wide receiver Keenan Howry on the prime Broadway real estate. Meanwhile, Smith gets helmet time on the 2002 schedule poster given away at the campus bookstore. The billboard gets national attention. The poster gets tacked to the back of a dorm-room door. Nobody gets hurt, except maybe Smith and his ego.

It doesn't matter that Smith's own coach calls him "a difference maker" and "the guy" on a team chirping about another national championship run. Or that a former coach at Tennessee still watches Smith's games late on Saturday nights and wonders what might have been. Or that his linemen say Smith is so good he'll get the first 1,000 yards "on his own," and they'll do the rest: give Smith a shot to break Barry Sanders' NCAA single-season record of 2,628 yards.

	Trouble seems to follow Onterrio Smith.

"I'm going to try to change the game," says Smith. But can he change himself first? Smith is a New York no-show partly because he keeps taking out a second mortgage on his second chance. "Let me ask you a question," says a Ducks player. "Why do you think he's not on there?"

His past?

"Exactly," says the player.

It's always something with Smith. Kicked out of Tennessee in 1999 for marijuana use, Smith came to Oregon to resurrect his playing career and Betty Ford his image as a gifted but clueless kid from Sacramento. Then came the DUI and suspension last season. Then he made his coaches sweat out his summer school grades this time around. "At times he's very refreshing," says Oregon coach Mike Bellotti. "At times he's very frustrating."

Bellotti wants to depend on Smith, needs to depend on Smith. The Ducks lost six offensive starters in the off-season. Maurice Morris took his 1,049 rushing yards across the border to the Seattle Seahawks. And the only thing left of Captain Comeback, quarterback Joey Harrington, is the rack of $45 replica Detroit Lions jerseys bearing his name in the UO gift shop. This July, Harrington stopped by Bellotti's office and stuck a note on the closed door. "Coach, don't you ever work?" Harrington wrote.

If he only knew. No player requires more monitoring than Smith. Bellotti issues a 20-page manual on leadership to every guy on the roster, but Smith gets extra attention: semiregular chats in Bellotti's office about schoolwork, about expectations, about the NFL scouts who will be watching his every move -- on and off the field. Just to be on the safe side, Bellotti has also told selected seniors to keep an eye on Smith. "I put the word out," he says.

Smith is worth the trouble for all sorts of football reasons. Last season, he broke Ahmad Rashad's 30-year-old school record with a 285-yard rushing performance against Washington State. He led the Pac-10 in yards per carry and became the first Oregon sophomore to rush for more than 1,000 yards. And he did it as a backup to Morris.

Tight end George Wrighster was standing next to backup quarterback Jason Fife on the sideline during part of the Washington State game. There was a third-and-15 situation from UO's own 6 early in the third period. The Ducks led, 7-3.

"What's the call?" Wrighster said.

"Trap," Fife said.

"Trap, huh?" said Wrighster, questioning the conservative play call.

Smith took the handoff, juked Cougars defenders into Idaho and gained 19 yards for the crucial first down. "The most incredible play I've ever seen," says longtime Oregon offensive line coach Neal Zoumboukos. Later on the same drive, Smith scored on a 41-yard run. Wrighster remembers exactly what he thought as he watched Smith take over the game: "Wow, I don't know anybody else who can do that."

Maybe that's why Smith's nickname is (we're cleaning it up here) "O-[poop]-y," because his teammates say would-be tacklers need Pampers when Smith is done with them. "Quickest feet I've been around," says running backs coach Gary Campbell. "He's a package unlike anybody I've had."

The package is 5'10", 204 pounds, runs a 4.4 40, benches 360 and looks indestructible. But the package still gets unraveled about the day he was summoned to Tennessee coach Phillip Fulmer's office and told, "Son, we've got to release you." And while the package remains quick with a smile and a laugh, he is careful with his trust, defiant when it comes to micromanaging by Oregon coaches. "I really don't need them to nag me," he says. "I'm my own man. I'm going to do what I'm going to do."

What he's going to do -- what he's always done -- is walk the chin strap-wide line between daring and immaturity, pride and stubbornness. "He'll push something as far as he can, stop right at the edge of the cliff, look at you and say, 'Thought I was going to fall off, didn't you? Nope, I'm not,'" says Wrighster, who used to room with Smith.

Smith laughs and offers another explanation: "I like pressure. As you can see, these past five years there's been pressure, hectic moments. I like to be the one with the load on my back. I call it fighting off the ropes."

But wouldn't it be nice to do the fighting in the middle of the ring for once? Instead, Smith fathers a daughter before traveling cross-country to play football, gets pooch-punted for smoking dope, can't get a sniff from the dozens of schools that had begged him to sign two years earlier, sits out a season on the Oregon scout team. And when he does get cleared to play, he gets slapped with a DUI and struggles in the classroom. "I think everybody on the team hopes it will work out," Wrighster says. "But how many lives can you have?"

Life No. 1 began when he had to pick a college. As usual, it didn't come easy for Smith. Nothing does, except when someone hands him a football. Oregon was going to recruit him as a defensive back until Campbell stopped the VCR after watching only two plays of Smith running with the ball in a Grant High uniform. "Who is he? What city is he in?" he asked an Oregon assistant. After that, Campbell was in Sacramento nearly every week.

Tennessee discovered him later. No dummies, UT coaches invited Smith to take his campus visit the same weekend the school celebrated its 1998 national championship. Smith walked with the Vols as they made their way to Neyland Stadium for the ceremony. On that same Vols team was redshirt freshman wide receiver Donté Stallworth, who had played with Smith at Grant High. Recruiting-savvy Tennessee fans shouted Smith's name ("I know they planted people," says Campbell).

Oregon was in trouble. A nervous Campbell called Smith. "Onterrio, I need a tailback," Campbell said. "Do I need to go out and look for a tailback?" The answer would come soon enough. Ducks coaches were initially so sure Smith would come to Eugene that they all but included him on the preseason depth chart. But the more Campbell talked to Smith after the UT visit, the more it became clear Smith had verbally committed to the Vols. They chatted on the phone until nearly 1 a.m. the night before National Signing Day. "Hey, if that's where you feel like you need to go, go with my blessings," said Campbell. "But if anything ever goes wrong, you're welcome to come back to Oregon."

Smith showed up for the Signing Day press conference with two letters of intent, one from Tennessee and one from Oregon. He was having second thoughts. So nervous was Smith that he had a small freak-out session, leaving the room for a half-hour just so he could control his breathing. Then he picked up the pen, "and my hand went that way." Toward Tennessee. Afterward, he panicked again, thinking, "Man, why did I sign that paper?" Too late. He talked to Fulmer ("Coach sounded real jolly") and started to think about life in Big Orange Country. "So off to Tennessee I went," he says.

Smith was special. Everyone could see it. "One of the most explosive players I've ever seen," says Stallworth, the 13th pick of the 2002 NFL draft. "I think he's the Walter Payton of college football." Tennessee had Travis Stephens, Jamal Lewis and Travis Henry, but still Fulmer and running backs coach Woody McCorvey found carries for Smith as a true freshman. He averaged 6.1 yards and scored four times in two games, but he also led the team in most visits to Fulmer's office. By Smith's count, his tardiness and 'tude must have had him over there two or three times a week. "He probably got tired of seeing me," Smith says.

Then in April 2000, trainer Mike Rollo told Smith that he had tested positive for marijuana, and he needed to report to Fulmer's office for a noon meeting. Smith figured he was going to be suspended for a few games. Instead, Fulmer told him his career was finished at Tennessee. "My heart just dropped completely out of my body," says Smith.

Angry, stunned, demoralized, Smith didn't bother asking for another chance. Instead, he made the short walk to his Gibbs Hall room, crawled into bed and didn't get up until the next morning. His best friend Stallworth brought him food. "You know how, when a boxer gets hit, he's kind of dazed, kind of out of it?" says Smith. "That's the way I was feeling. I wasn't in my right state of mind."

Smith later called his mother, but could barely speak. "What's wrong with you?" his mother screamed. Then she called her mother, and Smith could hear her say, "Mom, he won't tell me what's wrong with him." That's when Smith broke down. His tears had hardly dried before he was back in Sacramento.

Stallworth was so upset with Smith's dismissal that he briefly considered transferring. "A lot of guys on the team still talk about him," Stallworth says. "It's like, 'What if Onterrio was still here?'" McCorvey does the same thing: "Even though we had Travis Stephens, sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have both of those guys together."

But Fulmer says he had no choice. "I think the world of Onterrio, but he had some issues," Fulmer says. "There are lines you don't cross. When he stepped over it, there was nothing left to do. It was at the point, does the dog wag the tail or does the tail wag the dog?"

The tail is getting over it. Slowly. "It was my fault to the fullest," Smith says. "I couldn't be mad at him for the decision." But ask him what he'd tell Fulmer if the Tennessee coach walked into the room, and he says, "I'd be kind of sarcastic with him and tell him, 'Thanks. Thanks for jump-starting my career.' I don't know. I'd probably mess with him, say, 'See what you missed out on.' Kind of irritate him a little bit." Fulmer doesn't bite. "I hope he's doing real well," he says. "I know he is. I'm proud of him."

Smith still talks to Stallworth and, on occasion, even gets a call from McCorvey. He still has his 2000 UT Fiesta Bowl jersey and sometimes orders the Vols on the weekly pay-per-view TV package. But his heart now bleeds green and yellow, thanks to the standing offer left by Campbell and Bellotti. "When they accepted me back, I've never been more happy," Smith says.

The feeling was mutual. For the Ducks, it was like getting a really good deal on a used car. Smith was humbled, not as "young and dumb," as he puts it. He didn't complain once as he slogged his way through the 2000 season on the Ducks' scout team. He didn't go into a funk when Bellotti told him Morris was the starting tailback in 2001 -- end of discussion -- even though, if you took a vote for best back at season's end, "I'm pretty sure everybody would have said Onterrio," says wide receiver Samie Parker. And he didn't say a word when Bellotti suspended him for the first half of two games last season because of the DUI. "He's 100% different now than he was when he got here," says Campbell.

Different, but not totally cured of his judgment lapses. Bellotti and Campbell make a special point of saying they're not sure Smith can carry the running back position by himself. Can he stay healthy? What will he do without his unimpeachable running mate, Mr. Do-Good Morris? Will he have another knucklehead moment?

Smith's teammates aren't as worried. Parker calls him a team leader. Wrighster says Smith will flourish in the spotlight, that he doesn't need a weekly lecture series from UO's well-meaning coaches. "Onterrio's a lot smarter than people give him credit for," he says. Offensive guard Corey Chambers predicts huge numbers. "Forget 1,000 yards," he says. "He's going to get that on his own. We're starting at 1,000 yards and working up: 1,500 ... 2,000. I think with him, anything is doable. You're going to see a different Onterrio. This is his last year. He's going to do it." Actually, Smith will have another year of eligibility in 2003. But the early NFL draft scouting reports have him rated highly, so barring injury or another brain cramp, this should be Smith's final season in Eugene.

First, he has some running to do. That's the only way he can put more distance between himself and his past, the only way he can close the distance between himself and the great Sanders. Smith can recite Sanders' 1988 Oklahoma State stats by heart. He has the record-breaking numbers taped on a cabinet inside his apartment. He knows that Sanders was a first-time starter, that Oklahoma State was worried about whether he could replace the reliable Thurman Thomas. Now here's Smith: first-time starter, set to replace the reliable Morris. "Kind of crazy to look at his situation and mine," says Smith.

So Smith begins his countdown to changing the game. "Anything is possible," he says.

Except a billboard.

This article appears in the September 2 issue of ESPN The Magazine.

Buy this issue now!