johnnd05
Johnny T. works for me
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Not sure if everyone saw this ... pretty awesome (link).
A higher calling...
Morton has bigger things in mind than a pro career
ERIC HANSEN
Tribune Staff Writer
SOUTH BEND -- Bob Morton plans to be watching Mel Kiper Jr.'s mouth move incessantly and his hair not move at all during ESPN's NFL Draft coverage Saturday.
Yet if his cell phone vibrates sometime during the two-day, marathon, made-for-TV player dispersal, Morton is as apt to ignore it as he is to answer -- even if it is an NFL team on the other end
The former Notre Dame offensive lineman decided to push away the NFL dream in the days that followed ND's 41-14 loss to LSU at the Sugar Bowl, Jan. 3 in New Orleans. Instead, he is pursuing a career in the ministry, specifically working with teen-agers.
"I did go play in the Hula Bowl," Morton said of the annual college all-star game staged in Hawaii as a showcase for pro scouts. "I mean it's Hawaii. I'm not stupid. And I got to meet a lot of people from all over the country and share a lot of things. But I pretty much let teams know then, in the questionnaires, that I've chosen a path where I can make the biggest difference, and that's not the NFL.
"I think most teams caught on when I wasn't at the (NFL Scouting) Combine or the Notre Dame pro days," Morton said. "Still, I did get some calls. And when I did, I'd simply tell them no thanks or ask them what the 40-time requirement is for their chaplain."
The 6-foot-4, 298-pound (and losing) Morton was not projected to be a first-day draftee (rounds 1-3) anyway. But his versatility of playing guard and center and his experience as a four-year regular at Notre Dame would have gotten him into a camp either as a late-rounder or free agent. Yet even if first-day money had been an object, it wouldn't have been enough to put his passion on hold.
The McKinney, Texas, product has already settled in as a youth pastor at Grace Church (formerly Grace Baptist) in Granger. Former Irish teammate Derek Curry is walking down a similar path in the same neighborhood at Granger Community Church.
"The only thing that scares me about this job is the singing," Morton said. "If they put a mike in front of me, I panic and turn it off."
He won't turn off or even lower the volume on the problems vexing teens these days. Yes, he sees the same staggering dropout rate in the South Bend public schools that everyone else with open eyes does. He hears about the middle-schoolers already years into regular drug use. The under-age drinking. The broken homes. And the technology -- cell phones, instant messages and myspace.com -- to make it more difficult for parents to attack the problems.
"I think what it really comes down to is if I didn't think I could make a dent in the big picture, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing," he said. "There are teen-agers who will not listen to me, who don't think I make any sense. Not everyone wants to walk into a church on Sunday and sing the same songs and hear the same kind of message. And that's why we've got to get out of the box a little bit. That's where we can make a bigger difference in people's lives.
"The biggest thing is I'm not sure there's somebody fighting for kids in that age group. I think they're sometimes forgotten. Well, I think the most dangerous thing is when we tell teen-agers to make a difference and we don't take action with them. Because if they're not grounded, they take off and we don't know where they'll end up."
Morton didn't take action himself right away when thoughts of moving into the ministry began tugging at him in the spring of 2005. He had gone on a mission trip to Monterrey, Mexico, befriended two orphans -- 14-year-old Arturo and his 17-year-old brother Juan, and came back wondering how it all fit in his life.
"I knew at that point I wanted to work with kids somehow, someday," he said. "But I also learned you don't have to go to a faraway place to do good."
Last summer, Morton interned at Grace Church in Granger. And while that was taking place his father, Robert Clark Morton, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Less than a month later, on Aug. 22, the elder Morton left this world at age 54.
The younger Morton's emotions were scattered and frayed as Notre Dame opened the 2006 season. It was Robert's dream that Bob play in the NFL someday, but through the alternating thoughts of pain and the reassuring ones that Bob knew his dad did stand for something and something good, the Irish offensive lineman fell out of love with football.
He did love his teammates and had an intense loyalty to coach Charlie Weis, and so he vowed that his last weeks attached to the sport would be his most-efforted, if not his best.
"The people, that's what I'll miss about football," he said. "But I won't miss getting beat up. And I won't miss how I used to feel when I got up in the morning."
And somewhere Robert Clark Morton smiles, because his bigger dream than seeing his son suit up in an NFL uniform was seeing his son follow his heart.
"I do a lot of speaking." Bob Morton said, "from kindergartners to grandparents. And there have been times I haven't been exactly super-accepted. But what I've learned is when you go somewhere and say, 'I've got something you don't have,' nobody's going to listen.
"But when you go in there and say, 'Here's what I've done wrong in my life,' people can relate to falling short -- whether it's sports, academically, in life, in faith. And that's what my life has been, falling short. In fact there are times I feel like I've fallen short more then anybody.
"So my message becomes, 'Here's what I do to get through.' And some people say, 'You know what, I need something to get me through. Give me some of that. I'll have what he's having.'"
A higher calling...
Morton has bigger things in mind than a pro career
ERIC HANSEN
Tribune Staff Writer
SOUTH BEND -- Bob Morton plans to be watching Mel Kiper Jr.'s mouth move incessantly and his hair not move at all during ESPN's NFL Draft coverage Saturday.
Yet if his cell phone vibrates sometime during the two-day, marathon, made-for-TV player dispersal, Morton is as apt to ignore it as he is to answer -- even if it is an NFL team on the other end
The former Notre Dame offensive lineman decided to push away the NFL dream in the days that followed ND's 41-14 loss to LSU at the Sugar Bowl, Jan. 3 in New Orleans. Instead, he is pursuing a career in the ministry, specifically working with teen-agers.
"I did go play in the Hula Bowl," Morton said of the annual college all-star game staged in Hawaii as a showcase for pro scouts. "I mean it's Hawaii. I'm not stupid. And I got to meet a lot of people from all over the country and share a lot of things. But I pretty much let teams know then, in the questionnaires, that I've chosen a path where I can make the biggest difference, and that's not the NFL.
"I think most teams caught on when I wasn't at the (NFL Scouting) Combine or the Notre Dame pro days," Morton said. "Still, I did get some calls. And when I did, I'd simply tell them no thanks or ask them what the 40-time requirement is for their chaplain."
The 6-foot-4, 298-pound (and losing) Morton was not projected to be a first-day draftee (rounds 1-3) anyway. But his versatility of playing guard and center and his experience as a four-year regular at Notre Dame would have gotten him into a camp either as a late-rounder or free agent. Yet even if first-day money had been an object, it wouldn't have been enough to put his passion on hold.
The McKinney, Texas, product has already settled in as a youth pastor at Grace Church (formerly Grace Baptist) in Granger. Former Irish teammate Derek Curry is walking down a similar path in the same neighborhood at Granger Community Church.
"The only thing that scares me about this job is the singing," Morton said. "If they put a mike in front of me, I panic and turn it off."
He won't turn off or even lower the volume on the problems vexing teens these days. Yes, he sees the same staggering dropout rate in the South Bend public schools that everyone else with open eyes does. He hears about the middle-schoolers already years into regular drug use. The under-age drinking. The broken homes. And the technology -- cell phones, instant messages and myspace.com -- to make it more difficult for parents to attack the problems.
"I think what it really comes down to is if I didn't think I could make a dent in the big picture, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing," he said. "There are teen-agers who will not listen to me, who don't think I make any sense. Not everyone wants to walk into a church on Sunday and sing the same songs and hear the same kind of message. And that's why we've got to get out of the box a little bit. That's where we can make a bigger difference in people's lives.
"The biggest thing is I'm not sure there's somebody fighting for kids in that age group. I think they're sometimes forgotten. Well, I think the most dangerous thing is when we tell teen-agers to make a difference and we don't take action with them. Because if they're not grounded, they take off and we don't know where they'll end up."
Morton didn't take action himself right away when thoughts of moving into the ministry began tugging at him in the spring of 2005. He had gone on a mission trip to Monterrey, Mexico, befriended two orphans -- 14-year-old Arturo and his 17-year-old brother Juan, and came back wondering how it all fit in his life.
"I knew at that point I wanted to work with kids somehow, someday," he said. "But I also learned you don't have to go to a faraway place to do good."
Last summer, Morton interned at Grace Church in Granger. And while that was taking place his father, Robert Clark Morton, was diagnosed with stomach cancer. Less than a month later, on Aug. 22, the elder Morton left this world at age 54.
The younger Morton's emotions were scattered and frayed as Notre Dame opened the 2006 season. It was Robert's dream that Bob play in the NFL someday, but through the alternating thoughts of pain and the reassuring ones that Bob knew his dad did stand for something and something good, the Irish offensive lineman fell out of love with football.
He did love his teammates and had an intense loyalty to coach Charlie Weis, and so he vowed that his last weeks attached to the sport would be his most-efforted, if not his best.
"The people, that's what I'll miss about football," he said. "But I won't miss getting beat up. And I won't miss how I used to feel when I got up in the morning."
And somewhere Robert Clark Morton smiles, because his bigger dream than seeing his son suit up in an NFL uniform was seeing his son follow his heart.
"I do a lot of speaking." Bob Morton said, "from kindergartners to grandparents. And there have been times I haven't been exactly super-accepted. But what I've learned is when you go somewhere and say, 'I've got something you don't have,' nobody's going to listen.
"But when you go in there and say, 'Here's what I've done wrong in my life,' people can relate to falling short -- whether it's sports, academically, in life, in faith. And that's what my life has been, falling short. In fact there are times I feel like I've fallen short more then anybody.
"So my message becomes, 'Here's what I do to get through.' And some people say, 'You know what, I need something to get me through. Give me some of that. I'll have what he's having.'"
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