Difficult Times Inspire Louisville Football Star

LOUISVILLE, Ky. - For Tyrus McCloud, it was as if he had learned that she had died.

The news was so chilling, so poignant that he can still hear the persistent sound of his telephone ringing off the granite walls of his dormitory room that cold, gray January day in 1994.

He can still remember picking up the receiver and recognizing the soft voice of his eldest sister, Ann. She never called, but she was calling now.

The quiver in her voice at once alarmed him. As she forced small talk, Tyrus knew something must be wrong. But he never expected the news she quietly revealed.

"Daphne," she said, gasping for air as she broke down, unable to continue.

"What is it?" he asked, fearing that the life of his other sister, the one he referred to as his twin, was over.

"She has AIDS . . ."

He can still remember dropping the phone, hearing it crash to the floor. He can still feel the tears well in his eyes as he collapsed in a chair, choking back his sobs.

That moment lies at the melancholy core of his existence, and he has been living with it for nearly three years.

Tyrus McCloud is one of the finest linebackers ever to play at the University of Louisville. At 6-foot-2, 251 pounds, the senior is so physically strong and gifted on the football field there is little doubt he will be a first-round choice in the 1997 NFL draft next April.

Mel Kiper Jr., ESPN's pro football expert, ranks him the 17th-best player in the draft, the ninth-best senior and the No. 1 inside linebacker.

He is a finalist for the Butkus Award, which goes to the nation's best college linebacker; a certain All America; and a virtual lock for repeating as Conference USA's Defensive Player of the Year. No doubt he'll lead the Cardinals in tackles for the third consecutive season.

Tyrus McCloud can play. His accomplishments are in spite of, or possibly inspired by, an upbringing that often was difficult in a poverty-stricken neighborhood in Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

He dreams of building a house for his family - his mother, stepfather and six siblings - that has a bedroom for each of them, central air conditioning and a view of trees and hills. It is a world without drugs, homelessness and bullets.

And he dreams of taking care of Daphne, if she can just hold on a little while longer.

Tyrus McCloud burst into this world on Nov. 24, 1974, at nine pounds, 11 ounces, the fourth - and by far the largest - of Armie McCloud's six children. Two years later, his father, Tyrone, left the family, and his mother worked two jobs to keep food on the table.

The small house was a revolving door of rambunctious, hungry kids who bickered over the last slice of bread.

While his brothers and sisters were drawn to the street, Tyrus usually stayed behind in the safe confines of his home. "I was intimidated by the street kids," he said, unapologetically.

When he was six years old, in an effort to get him out from under her feet, Armie enrolled him for $25 in a football league at nearby Apollo Park.

He had long, black braids and fair skin and was far more sensitive than most of his teammates. He would come home after practice in tears.

"The coach cursed me," Tyrus would say through sniffles.

"Tyrus, you have to get tough," Armie told him. "That's how the real world is."

So at the behest of his mother, the woman he adored, Tyrus persisted.

Equally tough on him was Daphne, his elder by one year. While they rough-housed on the living room floor, he recalled, she would playfully smother his face with a pillow. Inevitably, the wrestling match would turn into a giggle fest, with Daphne the instigator of the jokes.

"They were two terrors," Armie said.

Terrorizing complete, brother and sister would sit on the front porch and wait for their father to come home. He never did.

"That affected both of them a lot," Armie said. "Before we divorced, Daphne was always daddy's little girl. Then suddenly Daddy's not around."

Daddy wasn't, but grandmother was. Hattie Morris was a strong, patient, adoring woman who took the pressure off her daughter by caring for her grandchildren.

She lived around the corner, an easy walking distance, and most of her days were given over to appeasing Tyrus' ever-growing appetite - with collard greens, corn bread, whatever the boy wanted.

Tyrus grew quickly, and when he was a student at Nova Middle School, he played center for the Nova High team. Eventually, he played linebacker on a Nova team that included Autry Denson, now the starting tailback at Notre Dame, and Kahlid Abdullah, a sophomore fullback at Florida State.

It wasn't, however, the same Tyrus McCloud that Louisville fans know.

"I played for self-gratification in high school," he said. "If I made points and tackles and we lost, hell, I won in my mind. I didn't care about anything but myself."

"He always had a feeling that everybody was against him" said Willie Dodaro, his high school coach who now is the defensive coordinator at Olympic Heights High in Boca Raton. "Once he got that negative stuff behind him, he developed a bond with us as coaches and teachers. He had these dreams - he wanted to be the best in college at his position."

Nothing could stand in his way.

Daphne got HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, from a needle.

Tyrus isn't sure what type of drugs she did, where she did them or how often. "It wasn't crack," he said. But it was something. And while the drugs themselves didn't kill her, the AIDS almost surely will.

It was a more than a year after Ann's phone call before he saw Daphne. They had avoided each other, the emotional pain too great. But Tyrus finally went home to Pompano Beach and was sitting in the house when his youngest brother, Norman, came running inside.

"Daphne's here! Daphne's here!" he gleefully shouted. Tyrus' heart dropped into his stomach.

When their eyes met, they both broke down.

"Just seeing her at that moment made me cry," he recalled. "You have to think about the situation she's in, and at the time I wasn't educated about it. Just to love her so much and her being in that situation..."

McCloud could've been dating a barbell with as much time as he spent in the weight room at Louisville. He ferociously lifted, bulking up considerably from the day he stepped onto the campus.

He is the strongest player that strength coach Ray Ganong has seen in his 11 years at Louisville.

He bench presses 510 pounds and squats an extraordinary 620 pounds.

Be strong, play hard

In late August, Hattie Morris lay peacefully in her bed at North Broward Hospital in Pompano Beach, not feeling the cancer that was about to take her life. At 82 years old, she had fulfilled her God-given duty, raised a family and spread His word.

But there was one thing left to do.

Her young Tyrus, whom she loved and cared for as if he were her own son, had come to visit, escaping from football practice 10 days before the Cardinals' season opener against Kentucky.

He had feared Coach Ron Cooper and the other assistants wouldn't understand his need to go home.

"I thought, `What if the coaches say she's not dead yet, so what's the point in going to see her?' Usually somebody goes home when the person dies. But I couldn't wait. I'd have felt bad if I hadn't gone until she was dead."

Cooper gave his blessing, then Hattie gave hers.

She told Tyrus to be strong, play hard, and have a good life. She'd be watching over him.

Tyrus McCloud broke down in tears. "We had to pull him off the floor," Armie said. "It's kind of hard to see him in games hitting people because he's not that way at all."

Hattie died the following Thursday. Her funeral was Saturday afternoon, hours before the Louisville-Kentucky game. Having been with her days before, Tyrus decided not to go. He had paid his respects. The pain was too great.

He suited up for the game, just like he had for the previous 28.

But this Saturday was different than the rest. He was in a zone, not thinking about the game, not realizing he was on the field harassing Wildcat players with an intensity that produced 21 tackles.

"Kentucky was the last thing on my mind before and after the game," McCloud said. "I didn't even think about Kentucky when we played Kentucky. I was not there."

Tyrus calls the play

Tyrus went home two weekends a go, his first trip back since Hattie's passing.

Armie took him to Westside Cemetery, where she is buried. They sat in the sun, talking, praying and reminiscing.

Friday night, he watched Dodaro's team, Olympic Heights, play archrival Atlantic High.

During the second overtime, McCloud called the defense to the sideline. "Watch for the tight end dump," he instructed.

The next play was third down and goal, and eight defenders covered the tight end. "Tyrus called the play," Dodaro said. "It took a guy from Louisville to call our play for us."

Olympic Heights won, 14-7.

During a 90-minute interview at his apartment, three agents called. His phone number is unlisted, but still they get through.

He said some are offering shoes, money and trips in return for a piece of his impending wealth.

One offered to fly him to Atlanta and take him to the strip clubs.

"Man, that's not me," McCloud said, shaking his head.

Tyrus doesn't know how Daphne is doing. His mother doesn't tell him, and Daphne doesn't want him to know.

But she's in his thoughts. He wears a wide, leather band on his right wrist bearing her initials - D L M.

It never comes off, not even for games.

"It feels like she's with me," Tyrus said.

He talks with his father now.

Tyrone has come to a couple games, and Tyrus has forgiven him for not being around while he grew up.

But he's a momma's boy. He calls Armie before and after each game, and she keeps a chart in her bedroom of his statistics.

He plays football so he can buy Armie that lot in Pompano Beach that she picked out years ago.

They drove out to it when he was home, as they always do. The gravel road is being replaced by concrete as one by one the houses are being built.

"She calls me all the time, asking how much longer until the draft," Tyrus said. "I keep telling her, `It's not much longer. Just hold on, it's not much longer now."'