The rock 'n' roll quarterback (cont.)

Coming out of high school Luker signed with SMU, but a neck injury derailed his career. Courtesy of SMU

Of course, on the same page, Platte bestowed four stars on a Vanessa Williams album. Despite the questionable juxtaposition, the review came close to describing the way the band actually felt. Luker said band members grew frustrated with the record company's insistence on hook-heavy songs that sounded suspiciously like other chart-toppers. Remember the line in Tom Petty's Into the Great Wide Open when Petty complains, "Their A&R man said 'I don't hear a single?'" That actually happens. "If we had been pushed the right way instead of trying to write hits ... When the backlash came, we were still trying to write songs like Creed," Luker said. "But Creed wasn't there anymore."

*****

I'm all I've left undone/I'm all I haven't won/Lift me up my soul's so hollow/Lift me up Submersed

-- Hollow

The toughest part of a rock tour is filling the hours before hitting the stage. Luker always had a foolproof way to pass the time. He kept a football on the band's tour bus. When Luker would throw with Davis, members of other bands would marvel at the bass player's cannon. Back in Orlando working on Immortal Verses, Luker's bandmates would tease him that, while the band was off the road, he should supplement his income by playing for the Arena Football League's Orlando Predators. "Every free minute we got, he was out throwing a football," Seth Luker said. "That kid's like a rifle. He's got a better arm than he had when he was 19 or 20."

As the increasingly frustrating recording process for Immortal Verses wound down last summer, Luker began to wonder if he might put that arm to use again. By the time the band went on tour to support the album, Luker began to have serious doubts about continuing his music career. His 2006 introduction to Kim Green, a pastor's daughter from Ocala, Fla., had changed his outlook. He had become a regular churchgoer. "I knew that if I didn't," he said, "things would start falling apart."

Luker didn't begrudge his bandmates' partying; he simply chose not to partake anymore. "It felt like I was learning and growing," he said. "But then when I went on tour with everybody, I felt like an outcast. I didn't belong anymore."

Luker wasn't the only one. Davis also wanted to move on. Before long, the band members realized Submersed was finished. "What Submersed was about originally, we weren't on that same path anymore," Davis said. "It was time for us to go. ... It just kind of slowly trailed off. There wasn't any kind of big blow-up. It just kind of slowly ran its course."

Luker decided he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and coach. To do that, he would need to finish his degree. If he was going back to school anyway, why not play football, too? He consulted Briles, who explained that NCAA eligibility rules would keep Luker out of Division I, but he would have two years to play in Division II. So Luker went back to Stephenville and checked out Tarleton State. There, coach Sam McElroy welcomed Luker. McElroy, like everyone else in Stephenville, knew all about Luker. Besides a potential backup quarterback, McElroy saw something else in Luker that could help the Texans. "He brings a little maturity to the team," McElroy said. "A little real-world experience."

Still, Luker had questions. Could he get in shape? Could he take a hit? His mind flashed back to the collision at that last practice at SMU. He heard the crunch of helmet meeting helmet. He thought about the chronic pain in his back since that day. Luker used yoga to improve his flexibility. When Luker arrived at Tarleton, strength coach Mike Harper put Luker through a battery of tests and designed a program to get him back in football shape. Harper began with exercises designed to strengthen Luker's core muscles, his back and abdominals. Before long, Luker was lifting with the youngsters.

One day shortly before preseason camp, Harper popped in a Submersed CD while Luker and several other Texans lifted. "We turned it on," Harper said, "and tried to keep a straight face." Submersed has reappeared on the Texans' weight room playlist, too. "It's good music for what we do in here," Harper said.

As Luker's friends predicted, he hasn't lost any zip on the ball. He has played in three of Tarleton's first four games, completing 4 of 5 passes for 48 yards. He survived that first hit, too. Because quarterbacks aren't live at Tarleton practices and because the No. 16 Texans protect their quarterback well during games, Luker didn't take a real hit until last week, when a receiver running a reverse at practice got confused and slammed into Luker at full speed as Luker tried to hand him the ball. "I stood tall," Luker said. "I acted like it was no big deal."

Luker still plays bass, too. "Every Sunday in church," he said. Last week, he backed girlfriend Green, who made her Texas debut on the mic. The only drawback of his years in the music business, Luker said, is that he now can't listen to a song on the radio without critiquing every note. That makes it tough to find music he likes, but Luker has found one album to put on repeat. "Phantom of the Opera," Luker said. "Andrew Lloyd Webber. He's awesome."

It's doubtful most of Luker's new teammates have heard The Music of the Night, but what do you expect? He's practically from a different generation. When Davis came to Stephenville for a game earlier this month, he called Luker "Grandpa." But Davis, who spent six years strumming alongside Luker, can see that his former bandmate has found happiness. "I can tell he's enjoying being where he's at," Davis said. "You can see it written all over his face. He's having a blast."

To hear music from Submersed, check out the band's MySpace page.