No Place Like Home -- Quarterback Rick Mirer, His Confidence Shattered, Is A Long Way From A Hometown That Adores Him

GOSHEN, Ind. - People are a tad upset about the Rick Mirer situation in these parts.

"I don't think I would want to play for the Bears," LaVern Miller said.

Part of it could have something to do with the fact that Miller is 5-foot-9 and Amish, but that's beside the point. He's angry. Angry that Mirer went from the Bears' starting quarterback to their third-string quarterback in a blink. Angry that Mirer had to get the news of his demotion from reporters.

Miller lives about 12 miles northeast of Goshen, Rick Mirer's hometown, and the closer you get to downtown Goshen, the angrier people seem to be. They're hurt and disappointed by the Bears' treatment of their local hero. A good civic primal scream would go a long way right now.

The epicenter, as one might expect, is anywhere a Mirer family member is, and on this day that is NBD Bank, where Ken Mirer is a vice president.

"He has no one," said Ken, Rick's father. "He can't trust his coaches. He can't trust people around him. It has been a tough situation because he never has been in that position before in his life. Even in Seattle, I don't think he felt as betrayed as he has felt in Chicago."

Rick Mirer grew up in Goshen, about 120 miles east of Chicago. He led Goshen High School to a state football championship, then starred up the road at Notre Dame. So it was with some excitement that people here greeted the off-season news that the Bears had sent a first-round draft pick to Seattle for him. This is Bears country, too, and it seemed like a perfect marriage.

Ken Mirer thought so. Seattle had hired Dennis Erickson as coach two years after drafting his son, and Rick Mirer wasn't his guy. So be it; he would go where we was wanted.

"That's why this was exciting, because these guys came after him. I mean, Dave Wannstedt went nuts after him," Ken Mirer said. "He did everything imaginable to get him to come to Chicago. I had phone calls a few times a week, asking me to do whatever I could to make sure Rick went to Chicago. He would have the Notre Dame staff call me. Former players.

"But basically, it was Dave. Wannstedt was the guy doing the hard pursuing, more than anybody else. He was dead set on getting Rick in there. He misled him. Rick came (to the Bears) with the understanding that he wasn't going to be a savior. It wasn't going to be something that happened overnight.

"He never even got half the night."

Two things upset Mirer's friends and family. The first is that the Bears re-signed Erik Kramer after telling Mirer he was their quarterback.

"That's like saying, `I want to be married, but I want to date too.' That's crap, plain and simple," Ken Mirer said.

The second is the Bears told Mirer before the Oct. 5 New Orleans game they would stick with him as their starting quarterback, no matter what.

Mirer played poorly in the first half of the Saints game and was benched in favor of Kramer. Soon after, he was demoted to third string.

"You tell me this is going to help his confidence?" Ken Mirer said. "You tell me they've done anything to help his confidence? They haven't done a thing except tear it down. You can't think that they're intentionally trying to destroy this kid, but they sure the hell haven't done anything to try to help him."

This is a father speaking, but it's not so far off from what many in Goshen are saying. That's how it is in a smaller town. Somehow, the planets lined up perfectly and a star rose up among them. If they don't know Rick Mirer personally in this town of 26,000, they know someone who does. Most everyone seems to like him.

In other words, Goshen is in a galaxy far, far away from Chicago.

"They're jacking him around a lot," said Harvey Copenhaver, 72, as he walked down Main Street last week.

All this is a matter of reference points. In Goshen, they remember the boy who could do no wrong. The boy who led Goshen High School to a 14-0 record and a state title in 1988. The boy who set records at Notre Dame. The boy whose retired Goshen jersey hangs in the athletic department office.

Chicago fans, on the other hand, are trying to forget the guy who, as of a few weeks ago, couldn't hit a receiver with a car.

"It's a tragedy how he has been treated," said Scott Rhude, who owns a sports bar in Goshen.

Too strong a word? Understand the dynamics here. People feel a part of Mirer, of his life. For the longest time, there has been enough of him to go around. As Mirer has struggled, so has Goshen struggled to watch something it hasn't seen before. It's a long way from Friday nights at Goshen's Foreman Field.

"The town just wants him to succeed," said Brent Randall, who does radio play-by-play for Goshen's football games. "They want him to get that break it takes to get him over the hump. He is by far the town's favorite son. They want to see him do well."

The local perception is that Wannstedt has not been straight with Mirer, and that has not gone over well here, where a man's word is as important as his coat in winter. A handshake is as good as a signed contract. That is the environment from which Mirer came.

And the way Wannstedt has flip-flopped on a starting quarterback? Put it this way: People here wouldn't want to be behind him at the grocery store when he's asked whether he wants paper or plastic bags.

"This wishy-washy stuff - I don't do it with this high school team," said Goshen High coach Brad Park, who was the school's defensive coordinator when Mirer played there. "I have to make a decision on who's going to be the quarterback. You can change receivers. You can change offensive linemen. But you can't change the quarterback."

When Mirer was a senior at Goshen, the team averaged about 5,000 fans a game at Foreman Field. Season tickets were sold out. He had a 3.8 grade-point average. After Seattle made him the second pick overall in the 1993 draft, he made sure that Nike provided free shoes for Goshen's athletic program. He brought in other pros for his football camp here two years ago. The local radio station picked up Seattle games when Mirer played there.

"He was my idol growing up," Goshen quarterback Jamie Egli said. "He was awesome. Everybody loved him. Everybody still loves him. He's a great player. He's just not in a very good situation."

There are jokes here about Mirer: The Cubs are looking at him because he goes from first to third faster than anyone they've ever seen.

And there are people who want to see Mirer fail.

"I teach at the high school, and I hear kids talk about Rick," said Corey Guilfoos, one of Mirer's best friends. "You hear people downplay someone who has been so good for the community and lose faith in him. People say, `Oh, he was given this or that.' Hey, he worked his (butt) off for everything."

For the most part, however, people here want to see him succeed. And if Wannstedt happened to walk down Main Street, it might not be pretty. Of course, if he walked down Michigan Avenue, it could get ugly too.

"It'd be tough for this community to swallow if his career was over, but at the same time he has done something none of us have gotten the chance to do," said Rick Holderread, an insurance man and a 1974 Goshen High graduate.

"Right now, his confidence is shattered. Every time he touches the ball, he is trying so hard to make something good happen. And it's not happening."

Holderread had just finished breakfast at the Olympia Candy Kitchen, a popular Goshen meeting place. Times have changed, diners acknowledge. They used to sit and cheer for Mirer on weekends. Then they yelled at their televisions and Wannstedt on Sundays. Then they winced.

Now they just stew in their own juices.

"When I see him play, I think he looks really nervous," said Kathy Andersen, Olympia's owner and Mirer's Sunday school teacher when he was in kindergarten. "I feel sorry for him. He's making a lot of money, but I don't know if it's worth it.

"You have to be really tough, and he seems a little more tender to me. I mean, he has it in him. But he just seems pretty docile compared to a lot of guys."

"Gosh, I hope he doesn't feel like he's letting people down here," said Kirby Whitehead, Olympia's manager. "I think everybody's just kind of waiting for it to happen. I have no doubt it's going to."

The question is, where? Ken Mirer doesn't see it happening in Chicago as long as Wannstedt is there, but that might be the optimistic viewpoint. Mirer's stock around the league has plummeted.

Just give him a chance, the town says.

LaVern Miller is just leaving his job at a company that builds homes. Like most Amish, he eschews watching television, so he gets all his information from the local newspaper. And it hasn't been good news, for Mirer or for the town.

"He was excellent as far as Notre Dame went," Miller said. "But I don't know what's wrong. People had high hopes for him."

If you can cut through a thick layer of frustration, they still do.