He seemed to have a soft spot for all kids. He brought lunch regularly for a little boy who shared the school bus with his boys and made sure he got home after school. While working at a convenience store a few years ago, he noticed a group of teenagers who hung out near the store, drinking and smoking. He used his own money to build a basketball court at their hangout and equipped the store with a ball the kids could borrow at the check-out counter. He watched over the kids, gave them "demerits" when they swore, and encouraged them. When he closed the store at night, he hugged then and told them he loved them, and they returned his affection.

This was the real Garrick, but drugs wore him down.

After his second divorce, he lived with his grandmother for a time. He had bachelor's and master's degrees and a teaching certificate, but he never settled on a career. He taught health classes part time at Utah Valley State College. He worked at the convenience store and sold cars. He was a counselor at a private school for troubled youths. He taught seminary. He worked the floor at Home Depot and tried telemarketing. Garrick was planning to pursue a career in high school administration this fall.

But nothing could replace football. For a man who loved the sport so much that he was willing to play it on one knee and drugs, there was no way to fill the void when his playing days were finished, and he often lamented that his knee had cost him an almost certain professional career. In some ways, he lived in the past.

"We had to watch reruns of football games on video," says Traci. "He defined himself through football. It gave him substance. His eyes got big whenever he talked about football."

A few years ago, Garrick told me, "I'm still trying to find my place. . . .

"It's like Jay McDonald (a former BYU teammate) said the other day. 'After that last game they should have taken us out back behind the stadium and shot us.' "

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Carol wanted nothing to do with Garrick when they first met. He was a jock, and that was all she needed to know. He kept asking her out, and she kept saying no. When she finally acquiesced, she was taken by his charm and his struggles. A Canadian, she had never even seen a football game — "I just clapped when everyone else clapped." They had two boys together.

Carol, curvy and petite, was dwarfed by her husband, but it eventually fell to her to take care of the family during their rocky seven-year marriage, which included separations. Garrick, often unable to work, was a stay-home father. Carol worked three jobs. She taught junior high school and afterward taught driver ed at the high school. On weekends she was a waitress. Money was tight. Garrick's stomach medicine cost $800 a month (she says she still owes more than $30,000 for medical care).