The easy thing to do is crack wise about his age, which is a BYU-ish 28. That's what his teammates do at Florida State, though their hearts don't seem to be in it. They call him "Paul Blake," in honor of the codger quarterback played by Scott Bakula in the mostly forgettable movie, "Necessary Roughness." All you need to know about the move is that Sinbad portrayed a lineman and Kathy Ireland was a place-kicker. Scarily enough, both could probably start for Duke these days.
Anyway, if you want to see the heat index on Chris Weinke's forehead crack the red line, start with the old fogey jokes. But before you do, maybe there's a few things you ought to know about the guy.
Did you know he was playing first base that night in Birmingham when Michael Jordan stroked his first-ever professional hit? Jordan looked at the Blue Jays' minor leaguer and said, "What's going on, Wenk?" Weinke had to do a De Niro thing for a moment ("You talkin' to me?"), but he recovered well enough. Then Jordan said, "I better get that ball. It might be the only hit I ever get."
Weinke spent six seasons in pro ball and to this day he says that one perfect Jordan moment "was probably the highlight of my baseball career." Not the bonus money out of high school. . . not one of his own hits. . . not a spring training appearance, but the sight of Jordan reveling in the personal joy of a single, of simply saying, "What's going on, Wenk?"
Did you know that he endorsed a local Tallahassee candidate for office? Did you know he didn't blow that bonus money on cars and woofers, but invested some of it in real estate? Did you know he's one of the few people from St. Paul, Minn., who can't bowl well?
|  | | Chris Weinke has thrown for 1,244 yards and 9 TDs this season. |
Oh, and did you know he was an inch away from being paralyzed from the neck down?
Chances are you saw the abridged version of Weinke's recovery from a neck injury suffered near the end of the 1998 regular season. Remember: Weinke gets hurt in early November, has surgery, looks marvelous on the sidelines at the Fiesta Bowl, and eventually returns to lead the Seminoles to the national championship in 1999. Simple.
What you didn't see -- what Weinke didn't want anyone to see -- was the hell between the moment he wobbled off the Doak Campbell Stadium field that day to the moment he took his first snap last season. Even now, almost two years removed from the sack that nearly left him in a wheelchair, Weinke still becomes misty eyed when recounting the ordeal.
The play was called, "344 Tennessee." Weinke was trying to get the Seminoles in position for a field goal try just before the end of the first half. That's when he got sacked, hit his head against a teammate's leg and then staggered toward the Virginia sideline.
"I tried to look at the scoreboard, I couldn't read it," he says. "I had no idea what was going on."
"Chris was basically walking unconscious," says team trainer Randy Oravetz.
Pain surged up and down Weinke's right arm. "Once I got hit it felt like someone was shooting me with a BB gun. . . just nonstop," he says.
Hardly anyone noticed. The ABC cameras missed the part where Weinke walked toward the wrong sideline, but FSU offensive coordinator Mark Richt saw the whole thing from the press box.
"Get Rooster (backup Marcus Outzen) in the game," Richt said over the headphones.
"What are you talking about?" they said on the sideline.
"Weinke's hurt," Richt said.
Weinke figured he had a stinger in his shoulder, which is nice way of saying, temporary paralysis. In the locker room the coaches asked him if he'd be ready for the second half. "Sure, sure," he said.
But he couldn't move his right arm. Or his neck. Weinke's father, who was at the game with Weinke's sister, came down to the locker room. "Dad, I'm fine," Chris said. "It's just a stinger. I'll be back next week and everything will be fine."
Except that team doctors had to gingerly lead Weinke into the shower, wash him, dry him, dress him and put a neck brace on him. He spent the night in a recliner at his house. And the night after that. There were more tests on Monday.
"I was wondering why they were X-raying my neck when I thought it was my shoulder," he says. "After the X-rays were over I went and sat in a little room at the doctor's office and just waited for the results. It was probably the longest 30 minutes of my life."
Here's what they found: a chipped bone lodged against a nerve in a vertebrae, ligament damage, a ruptured disc. His season, perhaps his career was finished. An inch the other way, said the doctor, and Weinke, in all likelihood, would have been a quadriplegic.
"The first thing I did was start crying," he says. "I get emotional sometimes even now when I talk about it. I called my parents and told them I probably would never play again."
Shortly before the operation he said a prayer with his parents and the FSU team chaplain. His mom held one hand, his father the other as Weinke's gurney was rolled toward the operating room. "Don't worry," Weinke's dad said, "it's going to be all right." Weinke's mom couldn't speak.
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Somebody must have been watching over me. For some reason I'm playing this game again because someone wants me to be playing this game. ” |
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— Florida State's Chris Weinke |
Did you know he stayed on that operating table for nearly six hours, that they went in from the back of the neck and also through the front of the throat, that they fused two vertebrae and inserted a metal plate and screws? Did you know he had a reaction to the pain killers, causing him to vomit a few minutes after eating or drinking? Did you know that had a doctor not stopped by his house to check on him that a dehydrated Weinke might have lasted another 12-14 hours, tops?
He spent five weeks in bed. Couldn't move, except to use the TV remote control. A spinal fluid leak created a fluid sack the size of two golf balls on the back of his neck. And that wasn't the worst of it. For four straight weeks, from 7 a.m. until he finally fell asleep at night, Weinke endured headaches.
"When I say severe headaches, take the worst migraine headache you've ever had and multiply if by 100," he says.
He made a sideline appearance at the Fiesta Bowl, even did a TV interview. "Sure, doing great," he said. But his right arm was "skin and bones," and he couldn't grip a football long enough to throw it from here to there. A couple of his teammates watched him try to toss a ball. They turned away in awkward embarrassment.
Did you know he spent six hours a day in rehab, that throwing a tennis ball was considered a major accomplishment? Did you know that Peter Warrick asked Weinke about his health, partly because Warrick was considering a jump to the NFL? "Heck, yeah, I'm going to be fine," Weinke told him.
Says Weinke now: "Did I know that? No, I had no idea."
He secretly worked on his throwing motion with Oravetz. Tennis ball to baseball. Baseball to football. He made his practice debut in the fall, made his playing debut against Louisiana Tech. A little more than four months later, Weinke had his national championship.
"Somebody must have been watching over me," he says. "For some reason I'm playing this game again because someone wants me to be playing this game."
Did you know FSU has never run "344 Tennessee" since Weinke was hurt? Or that Oravetz had the equipment men lighten Weinke's helmet so there's less stress on his neck? And did you know old man Blake is enjoying every nanosecond of this season?
Just one request: a phone call from you-know-who, just to say, "What's up, Wenk?"
Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine.
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 Chris Weinke throws 35 yards to Atrews Bell for the TD against North Carolina.
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