There are 41,999 empty red seats in Papa John's Cardinal Stadium on this summer afternoon. Exactly one chair is taken, 24 rows up in Section 228, on the 20-yard line. In it sits a middle-aged man, with a black ballcap shading his lined, freckled face. Through owlish eyeglasses he watches the whirling activity on the field below, but he is locked in on one player at the center of it all.
On the broiling artificial turf, members of the Louisville Cardinals briskly conduct another day of off-season 7-on-7 passing drills. Skill players run routes and catch balls; perimeter defenders attempt to foil them. It's a voluntary workout that has become less voluntary each year. Teams that are able to play in space, to get their best athletes the ball in the green pastures beyond the chaotic interior, know it is the surest path to the end zone.
In college football's current Space Age, July's 7-on-7's are where powerful offenses prime for September liftoffs. And the most propulsive attack of all might be Louisville's, commanded by senior quarterback Brian Brohm, the current No. 1 pick in the 2008 NFL draft on most scouting boards.
It is he whom Oscar Brohm, the man in the stands, watches now, for what may as well be the millionth time. The omnipresent patriarch of Louisville's first football family doesn't stay in his seat long. In fact, he doesn't stay in any one place in the stadium for more than a few plays, aiming to be inconspicuous. But he's not invisible. "Oh, yeah, I know he was there," Brian says with a wink. "I know where he hides out."
Given Brian's preternatural field vision, an awareness that has enabled him to toss 35 touchdowns against only 10 interceptions in the previous two seasons, it would be hard to imagine he wouldn't have spotted his dad in the empty stands. Of course, it's harder still to imagine Brian throwing a football and Oscar not being there to see it.
From his spot on the 20, Oscar Brohm moves to an alcove on the 35 and peers out. Coaches aren't allowed on the field during off-season workouts, so Brian is running the show. His team, his dream.
In a gray T-shirt that doesn't hide the weight work that has bulked him up to 231 pounds, Brian studies a play script before calling out instructions to his teammates. First up for the offense is 30 minutes of route-running and throwing. When a receiver drops a catchable ball, the always understated Brian calls out matter-of- factly, "C'mon back," and the pattern is run again.
For a while, Brian takes a breather and his backup, junior Hunter Cantwell, dilates pupils for a bit. Cantwell fires cannon shots around the field, showing why many NFL scouts are already looking at him for 2009. When Brian returns, he doesn't patty-cake it either. He throws 60-yard go routes on a rope, highlighting the increased velocity that's been a focus for him in these workouts. More hip leverage on the delivery, more body torque. "Anything that will get the slightest ounce of extra velocity on the ball," Brohm says. "You want to get that ball spinning coming out of there."
It's the defense that's spinning as Brian runs the drills. His greatest strengths are on display: control of his unit, pinpoint accuracy, the ability to strip defenders down to their compression shorts. "I had a chance to watch Brian play a lot of football on TV the past two years, and his physical skills pop off the screen," says Steve Kragthorpe, Louisville's new coach. "But when you see him on a daily basis, you realize his football intelligence is also tremendous. He has a passion for the strategic part of the game."
Oscar has crept his way to the 50-yard line now, though he is still shaded by the alcove. In the workout's down-and-distance reps, Brian is again in full command. He drops a 40-yard teardrop into a window the size of a hubcap to the speedy and dependable Harry Douglas. He follows that by smoking the secondary with a hitch-and-go touchdown to 6'6" matchup nightmare Mario Urrutia, prompting an outburst of yapping from the rest of the guys. He finishes with a bomb he delicately places away from the cornerback and over the outside shoulder of emerging sophomore wideout JaJuan Spillman for another six. He ends the 90-minute workout 16-for-19, and that includes one drop.
FOR NEARLY 22 YEARS, the Brohm family avocation has been bringing up Brian, by five years the baby of four. His brothers, Greg and Jeff, are more involved than ever—Greg as Louisville's director of football operations and Jeff as its passing coordinator/assistant head coach. Big sis Kim and mom Donna chime in too, in frequent family gatherings at their home just 15 miles from the stadium. But nobody has pursued Brian's growth more singlemindedly, from crib to college, than Oscar.
He coached Brian in the hypercompetitive Louisville Catholic grade school league, and later as the quarterbacks coach at Trinity HS, where Brian won three state titles. He wasn't about to stop coaching his son just because Brian agreed to play for the same college that every other man in the Brohm family played for before him. Even now, as former NFL QB coach Kragthorpe has replaced proven pass-master Bobby Petrino as head coach, Oscar continues to believe father knows best. So, in the six weeks leading up to summer's 7-on-7's, the ultra-exclusive Oscar Brohm Passing Camp was again open for business. As always, enrollment was one.
The site varied, from the family's backyard to a patch of flat grass at Iroquois Park to wherever Oscar (Louisville QB, 1968-69) could unite Brian with a pair of reliable hands, often either Greg (Louisville WR, 1989-92) or one of Brian's uncles. The camp is considerably kinder than the Brohms' infamous Thanksgiving Day Turkey Bowls of years past—one of which ended with Oscar in the emergency room with broken ribs—but no less pressure-packed. Brian throws and Oscar stands right in front of him, scrutinizing his delivery. "He'll watch 20 throws and come up with one tip, one little thing," Brian says. "He's seen almost all my throws, all my life, all the way up."
WHAT IF MARV MARINOVICH had gotten it right? What if he'd piloted his prodigious son Todd's trajectory, without becoming obsessed with it? What if he had, like Oscar, watched from a distant bleacher or darkened tunnel? Would the finished product have looked less like the famously selfdestructive "Robo QB" and more like Brian Brohm?
Asked about Marinovichs' sad saga, Brian says he's never heard the tale, and doesn't see any similarities to his relationship with his dad. "Away from the field, it's not all football all the time," he says. The family didn't even bring a pigskin on their annual summer trip to the beach in South Carolina. Of course, that was by accident; they forgot to pack it. "But it's not like we went out and bought one," Brian says. "We just decided to lie on the beach."
That marks some rare downtime for the Brohms. For all the football prowess, there were always other games to play. Greg played three sports at Trinity. So did Jeff, who was chosen in the MLB draft and played minor league ball before spending seven seasons on the sideline in the NFL. Kim played three sports at nearby Spalding University. And Brian was a starter on a Trinity basketball team that was the first to advance to the 16-team state tournament, as well as the MVP of a baseball team that made it to the state semifinals. "But you knew right away he was going to be good at football," Greg says. "I can't pinpoint exactly when, because he was always advanced for his age. When we took him to games as a young kid, he wasn't running around. He was watching."
Louisville was a third-tier D1 program when Oscar Brohm played for the school. But by the time Brian was a senior at Trinity, John L. Smith had made the Cardinals into an annual bowl team, and there was serious talk of a move to the Big East. The opportunity to play right away at Notre Dame or Tennessee was there for Brian, but family ties were stronger. He announced in front of Trinity's all-male student body and a wall of minicams that he was staying home. He wanted to win a BCS bowl and a national championship as a Louisville Cardinal. "When Brian said that, we knew how many doubters there were," Oscar says.
"But Brian believed it."
Now, Brian is returning for his senior year after a 12—1 season that included a Big East title and an MVP honor in the Orange Bowl. And the Cards are, in fact, legit national title contenders. "I think we've got a shot," says Oscar.
Early last winter, though, one more season was no sure thing. Brian's name was listed alongside JaMarcus Russell's and Brady Quinn's among the top NFL quarterback prospects. And given his injury history—a blown knee his sophomore season and damaged ligaments in his right thumb last year—he had to give the draft a look. Oscar convened the family to weigh the pros and cons, as he'd done when Brian chose a college. The final decision was Brian's, after plenty of feedback.
At roughly 2 p.m. on Jan. 7, Brian told his dad he was going to return to Louisville. At 9 p.m., news broke that his coach, Bobby Petrino, was going to the Atlanta Falcons. The Brohms took a few days to reevaluate Brian's decision, even as Louisville athletic director Tom Jurich was working out a deal with Tulsa's Kragthorpe. Only after satisfying themselves that Brian would fit into Kragthorpe's system and that Jeff and Greg could remain on staff did the decision stand. "I have some unfinished business," explains Brian, who will graduate in December. "I could've been satisfied with winning a BCS bowl, but I've always dreamed of a national championship."
WHEN THE 7-ON-7 IS OVER, Brian doesn't get 10 steps into the football complex before he's greeted by Jeff. Time to debrief. Big brother wants to know if Brian worked on keeping the ball from going behind his head when he cocked to throw. Brian assures him he did. For a guy who's been tabbed a natural since grade school, there's still a whole lot of coaching in his ears.
Meanwhile, Oscar is upstairs in the football complex, his arms full of binders that feature Brian's picture on the cover: sales portfolios for prospective agents. One is in town today to meet with Oscar. "Brian isn't taking any calls," Oscar says, referring to all those who are circling now to represent the best QB in next year's draft. "I'm taking all of them."
And he'll be watching all the throws, too, from the most trivial practice tosses to the highest pressure passes of November and beyond. Oscar Brohm can't count how many times he's seen his baby boy's right arm send a football spinning gorgeously through the sky. The number doesn't matter, anyway.
"It never gets old," he says.