Path less taken

White's road to Heisman was much longer than most

Jason White never thought he would get his hands on this bad boy. AP

Carson Palmer was an all-everything recruit who started for four years.

Eric Crouch had Heisman attached to his name for the better part of three years.

Chris Weinke led his team to a national title the year before he won the Heisman.

Ron Dayne and Ricky Williams spent four years piling up more yardage than any running backs before them.

Jason White, on the other hand, spent most of the past four years doing two substantially less glamorous things: Rehabbing his knees and holding a clipboard.

That in itself may be even more remarkable than the lopsided wins and the gaudy statistics that contributed to White becoming the latest member of the Heisman fraternity.

White's hoisting the trophy Saturday night at the Yale Club culminated one of the biggest rags-to-riches stories college football has seen in recent memory.

Four months ago, he was an injury-plagued quarterback who'd started five games in four years. Four months ago, he wasn't even the most celebrated athlete in his family -- that would be sister Jennifer, a former Florida State softball star who last summer was named the greatest athlete ever to come out of Tuttle, Okla.

Four months ago, he was one of the biggest question marks in the country. Today, he's the best player in the country -- and will be known as such for the rest of time.

How fitting it is that White was finally able to bask in something as glamorous as the Heisman after enduring such an unglamorous path.

It started back in Tuttle, pop. 4,300, where he spent many a long day laying cement for his father's business. After achieving legendary status in his hometown as a high-school player, he would spend his first two years in Norman riding the pine behind future Heisman runner-up Josh Heupel and highly regarded Georgia transfer Nate Hybl. After finally getting a chance to start halfway through his third season, he tore his ACL without even being touched and was done for the year.

After 10 long months of rehab, four hours a day of tedious exercises and flexibility drills, he was back under center for just two games before suffering the same injury on the other knee -- again, without being touched.

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Nearly another entire year of rehab later, White had once again earned the starting nod from Sooners coach Bob Stoops, only this time much of the public reaction was, "Why?" Not that we knew much about the alternatives, but surely there was somebody the head coach of the preseason No. 1 team in the country trusted more than a guy coming off two ACL tears.

What we the public didn't know was that behind the scenes, White had reconstructed more than just his knees. The former option quarterback who we'd last seen scrambling and weaving his way through defenders had quietly turned himself into a traditional pocket passer, and a dangerous one at that.

By the second game, when he converted two deep touchdown passes to beat Alabama, it was clear quarterback was no longer a question mark for the Sooners. By the sixth game, after he'd led a stunning 65-13 rout of Texas, it was clear the quarterback had become their biggest asset.

Saturday, when the final votes were tallied and White had finished 128 points ahead of Pittsburgh receiver Larry Fitzgerald, it became clear that the Heisman electorate agreed, choosing to overlook an uncharacteristic performance against Kansas State and instead acknowledging his remarkable season, the likes of which, from both a statistical and a victory standpoint, few quarterbacks in history have enjoyed.

"Never would I have dreamed after the two surgeries that I would have a chance to come here," White said upon accepting the trophy. "I just wanted to play again. For a while, it didn't seem like that was going to happen."

Four months ago, Jason White was just another athlete rehabbing an injury. Today, he's the inspiration for every athlete rehabbing an injury, every player waiting his turn on the bench -- and every small-town high-school kid stuck laying cement.

Stewart Mandel covers college sports for SI.com.