The Big Enchilada

On the wall of the Mandarich living room is a map of independent Croatia, a state that existed for just four years, from 1941 to 1945, before it was swallowed up by postwar Yugoslavia. The ruined promise of that short-lived country is a constant reminder to the senior Mandariches of life's harshness. "Communism!" Vic fairly spits. "It is very bad. Over there, 10 families would live in a house like this."

There are pictures or icons of the Virgin Mary in almost every room of the Mandarich house. When Vic visited the MSU campus with Tony on a recruiting trip, his only concern, recalls Perles, was to be sure there was a Catholic church close by.

The senior Mandariches would be shattered if they learned that their baby Tony was a steroid user. "I told him, 'You know I give my life to you,' " says Donna, solemnly. " 'But if you ever try drugs, I wish you never come home.' "

In mid-March, Mandarich dropped out of Michigan State and moved to the Los Angeles area, where he hoped to concentrate on working out with his weight-lifting mentor, the reigning Mr. America, Rory Leidelmeyer. Mandarich likes Los Angeles, he says, because "that's where all the things I want are—Hollywood, the weather, the beaches, the bodybuilding scene, the music." He left school after 4½ years, still 17 credits shy of earning his degree in communications. "I never signed a contract saying I'd graduate," he says. "But I'll get my degree. People forget there are colleges in California."

At any rate, a diploma doesn't have much to do with his career at the moment. He says he'll play even in rustic Green Bay "if the price is right." And what's right? Bet on about $8 million for five years. Would he live year-round in Green Bay? "Hah! I'm back here the day the season's over."

One thing Mandarich hopes to find in L.A. is the elusive W. Axl Rose himself. The scrawny, foul-mouthed wasted lead singer—who stands 5'9" and weighs 140 pounds, according to his publicist at Geffen Records—is unwittingly the giant football player's spiritual guide. Mandarich says he would like to hang out with Axl and tour with the band.

What's the attraction of Axl? "His uniqueness, his tattoos, the stories behind his songs," says Mandarich. "And he's bad, but he doesn't try to be." Mandarich has named his Siberian husky puppy Axl and has papered his garage in California with Guns n' Roses posters. His favorite displays the singer's tattoo that reads VICTORY OR DEATH.

Mandarich moved abruptly once before. As a senior in high school, he moved to Kent, Ohio, to live with his brother, who was then a senior at Kent State. His goal was to learn football, American style, and to pump iron with John. "I had to become his legal guardian so that he could come live with me," says John.

Last spring John suggested that Tony inquire about becoming eligible for the NFL's supplemental draft. Tony's simple letter of inquiry was enough to get him suspended by the NCAA for the first three games of last season. "The only person I can blame is myself," says Tony. "But all I was doing was checking on my future. Why can't you do that? The NCAA really ticks me off. I didn't take money, didn't sign early with an agent, didn't get busted with drugs, but now I'm the bad guy."

He spent his three-game suspension toiling in the weight room in a blue heat. He came out for the Iowa game like a rabid animal.