Aikman signed with
Oklahoma but lasted only two years there. As a sophomore he broke his ankle,
and his replacement, Jamelle Holieway, went on to lead the Sooners to the
national championship. Aikman could see his future in Norman: on the sideline,
watching, with a baseball cap on his head, a clipboard in hand. He also had
trouble finding a home with the Sooners off the field. He lived in an athletic
dormitory in which criminal mischief seemed ever present: drug use, gunfire,
sexual assaults. Switzer would later be forced to resign because of such
problems. Life in that dorm was so dangerous, in fact, that Aikman wouldn't let
his girlfriend visit him there. In the spring of his sophomore year he got
smart and decided to transfer. "I went to Barry's office to talk to him
about leaving, and he was almost enthusiastic," Aikman says. "It wasn't
like he was trying to talk me out of it. He kind of got excited. I don't think
he wanted me to leave, but I think deep down, Barry felt bad that I was being
wasted."
Aikman confessed
to having no alternative school in mind, so Switzer opened a desk drawer and
pulled out a sheet of paper listing the top college passing teams from the year
before. He fired off names, and Aikman accepted or rejected them as
possibilities. Switzer then picked up the phone and called some coaches--Terry
Donahue, then at UCLA, among them. "I had to sell Terry on him,"
Switzer says. "He'd never heard of Troy. I said, 'Terry, this is a unique
situation. Troy's a starter, a great kid and a great player. He will be your
quarterback, and he will be drafted in the first round. He will play pro
football.' Then I told Terry that if he didn't take him, Troy would end up at
Stanford. I knew Terry didn't want that."
Aikman was
ineligible to play for UCLA in 1986, but over the following two seasons he led
the Bruins to a 20-4 record, their best in years. By then he was everybody's
choice to be the first player taken in the '89 draft, a pick that belonged to
Dallas. As it happened, the Bruins accepted an invitation to play Arkansas in
the Cotton Bowl, and they practiced at Texas Stadium. Among the regular
visitors to those workouts were Cowboys coach Tom Landry, president and general
manager Tex Schramm, and personnel director Gil Brandt. They stood on the
sideline and watched, unnerving Aikman.
"I did not
practice well," he says, "and Coach Donahue was worried about me. He'd
pull me aside and say, 'Are you going to be all right?' Then one morning before
I was leaving for practice, Gil Brandt calls me in my hotel room. 'Troy,' he
says, 'I just want to let you know that if you throw seven interceptions in
this game, it doesn't matter--you're our guy.' "
UCLA won the game
by a couple of touchdowns, and Aikman was the offensive MVP. But a week later,
before the Hula Bowl for college all-stars, a Cowboys scout summoned Aikman to
his Honolulu hotel room. Aikman took a seat, and the man said, "O.K.,
where'd you go to college?"
"Then he
starts going through all this background stuff, and I'm thinking he should know
this," Aikman says. "So finally, after about 10 minutes, I say, 'Can I
ask you something? Gil Brandt told me I was going to be the Number 1 pick. I'm
not holding Dallas to that, but you come up to me, and you act like you don't
even know who I am. I'm just curious. What's going on?' The guy looked at me
and said, 'Sometimes Gil says things he shouldn't.'"
Aikman didn't know
what to make of the meeting. The more he thought about it, the more uncertain
he became. Then, in late February, oilman Jerry Jones bought the Cowboys from
Bum Bright and announced that Jimmy Johnson would replace Landry as head coach.
The news made Aikman even more anxious. He had never heard of Jones, but he did
know Johnson. While coaching at Oklahoma State, Johnson had tried to recruit
Aikman. A few years later, after Johnson had taken over at Miami, he had talked
to Aikman about transferring there. Having already rejected Johnson twice,
Aikman wondered if the coach would want him a third time.
Aikman's fears
were for naught. The Cowboys ended up signing him a few days before the draft,
making what proved to be one of their most significant acquisitions since they
drafted Heisman Trophy winner Roger Staubach 25 years earlier.
"I'D BEEN in
Dallas a year when Troy got here," Irvin says. "I remember the first
day he showed up. We were throwing and catching, and he had this zip on the
ball. And his ball was easy to catch. It had all the speed in the world, and it
would come to you and hover. It would actually hover. The ball seemed to be
saying, 'O.K., Michael, you can catch me now.' I've never seen anybody throw a
better ball."
That first year
Aikman lived in an apartment complex just like anybody else. And he got around
like anybody else. He went to Billy Bob's Texas and other honky-tonks for
country music. He ate at restaurants without being pestered. He could drink a
beer without a crowd watching to see how he held the bottle. But the Cowboys
weren't winning, either. Aikman went 0-11 as a starter his rookie year and was
the lowest-rated quarterback in the league. He missed five games with a broken
finger, and when he came back, he suffered a concussion. Adding to his torment
was an unsympathetic, often hostile press. POPGUN, one headline called him.
ACHE-MAN, said another.