Hometown heroics
By GEOFF HOBSON
June 18, 2006
Posted: 11:45 a.m.
It could be a graduation party in Anderson Township or Forest Park. Or a first communion picnic in Price Hill, or a wedding reception at Sharon Woods, or a block party in Covington.
There is beer and soda stuffed in tubs. Montgomery Inn sticking to the ribs, Graeter’s Ice Cream in cups, and Dave Lapham talking in the background.
It is Cincinnati all the way Saturday at the Carson Palmer Cornhole Celebrity Classic because Carson Palmer is Cincinnati all the way.
Remember his first day as a Bengal, when Palmer, the sun-torched Californian, said Cincinnati was his kind of town? Three years later, this is the weekend we discover just how much influence the next-door-neighbor superstar has on his team and in his community.
First of all, they are playing cornhole on the grounds of Paul Brown Stadium. On the grim road of his recovery from reconstructive knee surgery, the Bengals listened to his input and have reviewed how they handle similar injuries. After giving him a six-year extension last December, the Bengals are making decisions based on a quarterback who is here slightly shorter than a stadium lease (2014-2027). When he speaks, there is weight.
Lapham, the voice of the Bengals who played with one franchise guy in Ken Anderson, sees Palmer wielding the same kind of influence as the other one, Boomer Esiason.
“Not as public,” Lapham says. “Understated.”
But then, that’s Palmer, right? The guy who’s not sure where his Heisman Trophy is located. (It’s not here; he thinks it’s with his mother somewhere in a box.)
“Steve McNair is like that. Just a guy from Mississippi and he was never flashy,” says defensive tackle John Thornton, taking a break from throwing the bean bags. “That’s how Carson is. He makes everyone feel the same around him.”
Tory James, who won a ring in Denver with a Hall of Fame quarterback, has seen this act before.
“(John) Elway was the same way,” James says. “Just like him.”
He’s the big-timer who doesn’t big time.
“It’s the middle of the baseball season and the Reds are home and contending,” muses a man who has covered both teams for both newspapers in town. “But if you look at the coverage of Carson this weekend, I think you’d have to say he’s the No. 1 sports personality in town.”
Coverage?
Just imagine a Sean Casey who hits 50 homers.
As Palmer took the first significant snaps of his rehab at the club’s mandatory minicamp Thursday and Friday, it was a cross between the New Hampshire primary and, yes, a midseason series at home with the defending world champions managed by a voluble guy named Ozzie.
“Even though he’s hurt right now, everybody is still looking at him; he picks practice up,” Thornton says.
Making a difference in the community
Just like he has picked up kids everyone else likes to forget. Kids on the fringe. Some kids with not even a name.
“They’re a Godsend. That’s all you can really say,” says Bob Mecum of Shaelyn and Carson Palmer, a young couple that wanted to help.
It was a week after Mandy Casey called and told him, “Bob, I’ve got terrible news; we’re moving.” Mandy’s husband, Sean, had just been traded by the Reds to Pittsburgh, and Mecum was losing two of his biggest supporters for Lighthouse Youth Services, Inc., a state agency assisting physically and emotionally abused children.
It wasn’t a good couple of days for Mecum, the long-time president and CEO who has piloted Lighthouse into national prominence.
“Then a week later,” Mecum says, “Carson Palmer comes into our lives.”
Saturday is Palmer’s first throw to raise money for the group and, like he does everything else, it comes off so well it’s like he’s not even trying.
But, of course, he does. Right down to the tents offering shade on the baking Astroturf of the PBS practice fields.
“This shows how the Midwest has rubbed off on him,” says Jordan Palmer, his brother who has come straight from the Coast with no idea what cornhole is until he arrives this morning.
“He thought he was coming to a golf tournament,” Shaelyn Palmer says. “We have a golf tournament in California and that can get kind of repetitive. This is something we really thought we could get the community excited about.”
Her husband suggested the idea to Mecum. Cornhole is Cincinnati. Why not a tournament? Palmer liked the idea of the intimacy of it. Everybody does a golf outing that can take up to seven hours to play, but there isn’t much contact with people.
Plus, Palmer has always been intrigued by the game ever since he first saw it when he walked into a preseason game as a rookie and saw the fans playing it in the parking lots.
“They’ve been playing since they were five years old,” Palmer says. “They’re here today as ringers. Just like these kids. They’re awesome.”
The kids are with the sponsors. There are no Lighthouse kids here because alcohol is present. But they are why Palmer is here.
When the Palmers looked at putting their energies into a Cincinnati charity, they wanted to help children with the same problems they helped at Hillview Acres in California. Kids looking for a start in life, or even just a loving family. They asked the head of Hillview to scout Cincinnati and he recommended Lighthouse. He called Mecum that awful week the Caseys left.
“We were also looking for something that didn’t have a major sponsor or donor,” Shaelyn Palmer says. “It’s something we hope to make better and better year by year.”
It fits. Palmer may have big numbers, but he likes underdogs. He overcame critics and struggles at USC. He had to sit his rookie year in the NFL. He leads a team that always seems to be proving something. These kids and Palmer go perfectly together, just like Palmer and Cincinnati.
Mecum brought the couple to the Lighthouse Youth Crisis Center to meet 15 of the residents and told the kids he had some people waiting to talk to them.
“Carson Palmer and his wife,” Mecum says. “About three or four knew who he was. The rest didn’t. I told them to tell the Palmers what life was like on the streets of Cincinnati. And they were terrific.”
Those meetings always seem to hurt Palmer. He never wants to talk about them, although they clearly affect him. He knows the names won’t be used, but he still doesn’t want to reveal their pain.
“The stories don’t belong out there,” he says. “It’s very uncomfortable. It’s something I’ve never been through. They’re 12, 13, 14 years old. It’s tough.”
The streets of Cincinnati mean something to them. Even more now.
“We love it here; the people have always been great,” Shaelyn says. “But the support since Carson’s injury - oh my gosh - it’s been amazing to us. We didn’t expect it. The mail that was left at our door in California. It had never crossed our minds it would be like that.”
Her husband loves playing in a football paradise.
“It’s a great football town,” he says, “even though we’ve been through ups and downs as an organization over the years. It’s the middle of baseball season, the baseball team is doing great, but all the fans are talking about on sports radio is the Bengals.”
But Palmer doesn’t want to hear that he’s Cincinnati’s No. 1 sports personality.
“I don’t know about that,” he says. “I think the Bengals are a big draw in this town. There are passionate Bengals fans.”
Decide for yourself. In front of about 4,000 fans at the PBS Open House on Saturday, the biggest cheer of the day came when Palmer emerged from the tunnel to join the team at midfield with Sam Adams and Jonathan Fanene. Thornton said the guys were teasing head coach Marvin Lewis that Adams was getting the biggest cheers, and he was, but everyone knew it was a salute to Palmer, too. Fanene’s day is coming.
Thornton has spent some time talking to David Dunn, Palmer’s agent who also now represents him, and they agree that he has matured in the past few months.
“In three years, he’s really grown up,” Thornton says. “He knows he’s our leader and that’s how he comes in every day. It’s amazing how far he’s grown in those areas just from knowing how he affects everybody. He has the perfect personality for that.”
Thornton looks around the turf. The music. The food. Lapham calling out the rounds.
“It's genius,” Thornton says. “This is a big thing in the Midwest. There’s not a better way to get in touch with the people. He’s doing it right.”
He may have been hitting the board a little right all day, but on Saturday Palmer left no doubt he had put the beanbag straight through the heart of town.
http://www.bengals.com/news/news.asp?story_id=5303
Palmer Cornhole Classic?????
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