MANSFIELD - He's sitting behind a cluttered desk in a cluttered office, scribbling his name over and over: Steve Grogan. It was a name that led the football news for years in New England, a name that remains a favorite in Patriot Nation.
But Grogan, the longest-playing Patriot ever, a star quarterback who held several records, is not autographing footballs for fans. He's signing checks for the vendors who supply gear for his store, Grogan Marciano Sporting Goods, an old-fashioned place that sits in the center of town next to a pizza and sub shop.
"It's ironic," he says, peering over reading glasses. "I used to get paid to sign my name, and now I'm paying people by signing my name."
Number 14 is 54 years old now, and you'll forgive him if his shoulders aren't as square, his arm not as limber as a generation ago. It has been 17 years since he retired from the Patriots after 16 years with them. But he never left the Foxborough area.
"When I retired from the Patriots, it became pretty obvious that the opportunities were here, not back there," says Grogan, whose voice still carries the twang of his boyhood in Ottawa, Kan. He bought the store in 1994 and simply added his name to that of former owner Peter Marciano, brother of the famous boxer. The store specializes in equipment and uniforms for college, high school, and youth leagues.
"If we had to compete as a retail store against the big chains, we couldn't survive," Grogan says. He enjoys the business; it keeps him close to the sports world and those who enjoy athletics. His son Tyler, 27, is his assistant general manager. Vast attic and basement storerooms hold bats and balls and helmets and pads, enough to outfit entire leagues.
But the only Steve Grogan stuff for sale are a couple of white jerseys hanging on a rack. Every once in a while, a fan will come in, plunk down $65.99 for one, and ask him to sign it. Or they may just wander in and ask for the autograph. That's fine, too.
The only obvious sign of his former fame are the three framed Grogan jerseys on one wall: from the Patriots, from Kansas State, and from Ottawa High School. In a back room hangs a fraying poster from Super Bowl '86 in New Orleans, a game Grogan would rather forget. "Someone gave that to me," he says, as if to explain why it's there. The Pats were mauled by the Chicago Bears, 46-10, with Grogan going in midway through the second quarter to sub for Tony Eason. "It was a long afternoon," he says.
Besides his longevity with the team and his records (he threw for 26,886 yards and ran for 2,176), Grogan is remembered for his hard work - and hard hits. That Super Bowl season, he'd broken a leg when tackled, and played with it held together with a couple of screws. In 1988, he suffered a ruptured disk in his neck; doctors took bone from his hip and planted it in his neck. Grogan put on a neck roll and played. There were torn ligaments and sprained tendons, five knee surgeries, a broken hand, and numerous shoulder separations.
Concussions? "I don't remember," he says with a straight face. He grins. "I had a few of those."
Grogan, who at 240 says he's 20 pounds over his playing weight, will still play an occasional charity softball, basketball, or flag football game. He lifts weights, but it's getting harder. He can't run much anymore. "Something starts hurting," he says. "My knees bother me some, my feet bother me some, my back bothers me some."
Like his showroom, his office at the back of the store holds few clues to Grogan's past, though there is a newspaper article written several years ago, tacked onto a bulletin board. Among the quarterback's other records, it noted: "No one took more hits and suffered more injuries than Grogan." The taciturn Grogan gives a wry smile. "That's something to be remembered for."
About those bags of oranges and grapefruit in a corner, he says a fan in Florida sends them every Christmas. "I have two or three like that who still write me letters regularly," he says. "Old people remember me, the kids don't remember me. I'm very popular with 70- and 80-year-old women."
At a recent holiday party at Gillette Stadium for service people and their families, young people stood in line for autographs from Pats current running back Kevin Faulk, while the middle-aged migrated toward Grogan. Margie Sims from Natick, 50, was one. "I love you!" she told Grogan. The coveted photo was snapped, and Sims walked away thrilled.
Most of the photos in Grogan's office are of his three boys. Tyler, who is a bearded young clone of his father, played football at Northeastern; his father attended every game, once driving to and from Ohio in one day. When Tyler's not working in the store, he's a wide receiver for a professional indoor football team, the New England Surge in Worcester. As a boy, he watched his father being tackled relentlessly.
"Now, if you even come near a quarterback, you get a penalty," Tyler says. It's true; the rules have changed dramatically since Grogan and his counterparts were human sacrifices.
"They have so much money invested in the quarterbacks, they must protect them at all costs," says Grogan. "I think it's good. I wish they'd changed the rules earlier so I could have benefited."
Nor did he benefit from the super salaries of today; free agency started after he retired. His first year with the Patriots, he earned $25,000, which was still twice what his schoolteacher father earned. Grogan doesn't begrudge today's players their huge contracts.
"You can't fault a guy for getting what they can get," he says. "And you know what? I had fun doing what I did."
Though their pay differed - Tom Brady has a six-year, $60 million contract, while Grogan never got to a million a year - the two quarterbacks have many similarities. They're the same size - 6-foot-4 and about 220, give or take. Grogan was a fifth-round draft pick out of Kansas State; Brady was sixth round out of Michigan. Both were bench-warmers who benefited when the starting quarterback - both first picks - got injured: In Grogan's case, it was Jim Plunkett; in Brady's case, Drew Bledsoe. Both have been lauded for their work ethic on the field and their civility off.
"The differences are when you start talking about three Super Bowl championships," Grogan says. Another half-grin: "And I didn't date any supermodels, and I didn't make $10 million a year." He and Robbi started dating his senior year at Kansas State and were married in 1977. They recently bought a retirement home outside Kansas City, near both sets of aging parents. Besides Tyler, they have two other sons - Tanner, 25, trains killer whales at Sea World in Orlando, and 20-year-old Tate is a sophomore at the Air Force Academy.
Grogan, who met Brady at a charitable event, is a huge fan even though Brady has broken most of Grogan's records. "What he does on the football field is better than anything I've ever seen in that position, and that includes [Joe] Montana, [Dan] Marino, and [John] Elway. When the pressure's on, he thrives, and that's something you can't teach."
Though he has held season tickets since he was a player, Grogan attends only a game or two a year, giving his seats to family and friends. Parking's a hassle; he's been in the stadium in 20-degree weather too many times, and he says he's too old to stay up for the night games. Nostalgia is also a factor. "When you've been on the playing field, it's not as enjoyable sitting in the stands."
Sometimes, Grogan will get together with old teammates - center Pete Brock, kicker John Smith and others - who remain in the Boston area, to have a couple of beers and "talk about how great we were." Grogan, who is in the Patriots Hall of Fame, helps raise money to promote youth sports in New England, and has been chairman of an Easter Seal pledge walk in Boston since he retired in 1990. And he blogs ("Grogan's Grade") for PatsFans.com after each game.
Tonight he'll be at his favorite spot watching his favorite team: on a couch in his living room, in front of his 10-year-old TV, with a bowl of popcorn. He fully expects a Patriots win and then two more. As for tonight, he says, "I'm thinking 35-17."
