D2


EZ SU


KLMNO COLLEGE FOOTBALL


It helped makemea better person. It is tough formeto break mentally.” —Torrey Smith on his childhood


“I like every struggle I have been through. I have learned from it.


SUNDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2010


Maryland wide receiver Torrey Smith celebrates with relatives in a College Park restaurant after becoming the first male in his family to graduate from college.


Character shaped by a lost childhood


smith from D1 When Maryland fans look at Torrey


Smith, they see a standout wide receiver withwarmeyes, a wide smile and a polite disposition. They see a 6-foot-1, 205- pound 21-year-old who says he has never sipped alcohol, who is so respected and revered that Friedgen can’t talk about him without saying “God created a per- fect person.” They see a player whose high school coach, Roger Pierce, believes he has become a better person because of his experience with Torrey. What they don’t see are the two decades of hardship that shaped his character and resolve. “I matured faster than a lot of people


my age,” Torrey says. “I have been through a lot of things that a lot of people have not been through.” Torrey Smith’s story began in a Rich-


mond hospital with 16-year-old Monica delivering a 5-pound, 6-ounce baby near- ly three months early. Born with menin- gitis and jaundice, Torrey was rushed to an incubator before Monica could so much as touch him; his lungs were dangerously small. He remained in the hospital 10 weeks. He needed to learn to swallow, learn to eat. Monica feared he wouldn’t survive. Torrey’s biological father, Clarence


Rhodes, was a military man who was 25 when he conceived Torrey with the then- 15-year-old Monica. In an effort to pro- tect Clarence from a possible statutory rape charge,Monica did not tellClarence or Torrey they were father and son until six years later. She named her son after the man she


had begun dating after she became preg- nant, James Torrey Smith, with whom she had two of her other children and who would become the closest thing Torrey has to a father figure. While Monica was in the hospital or visited the Ronald McDonald House in Richmond, the elder Torrey, who was in the Navy, would make 90-mile drives fromNorfolk to Richmond just to bottle-feed Torrey. Monica was still a teenager with hopes


of becoming a registered nurse in the military. But she carried emotional scars from growing up amid violence and abuse and, at one point, without running water. For more than three decades, her birth certificate read “Baby Girl Jones.” “My mother didn’t care if I went to


school,” she says. “Duck school in a heartbeat. Suspended every other week. Steal bicycles. Take Vaseline and smack people in the face with it. Don’t leave your keys in the car. Gone! Don’t leave your bicycle not locked up.We got it!We go to the store get some spray paint. Police? Nah, you better not even think about coming up in the woods with us up there.We going to get you.” The first four of her seven children


were born when she was 16, 17, 18 and 19. Her career plans were derailed, but her child-rearing plans remained clear. Us- ing her childhood as a blueprint,Monica decided, “I just raise my children oppo- site.”


The ‘Microwave King’ In 1993, residents of the Riverwood


Apartments in Colonial Beach were often awakened in the early morning hours by the thud, thud, thud of a dribbled basket- ball. They’d call out their doors, begging for temporary relief from the noise. That’s when a 4-year-old Torrey Smith would put aside his ball, race inside his unit and assume his duties. His routine: Line up his three younger brothers at the table. Drag a chair across the kitchen floor to the counter.Climb on top. With tiny hands, place bologna, hot dogs, ravioli or even eggs in the micro- wave. Using the markings Monica had etched on the manual timer, heat break- fast for his younger siblings. Monica spent days taking nursing


classes at community college. She spent nights juggling two jobs: caring for the elderly and packing bacon. Torrey saw her three hours a day, usually when she would be catching up on sleep.Monica’s mother helped out whenever possible — “heaven sent,”Monica says—but respon- sibilities often fell toTorrey,whomMoni- ca called the “Microwave King.” As she slept, she knewall four of her kids would


be fed once she heard the “ding” from the kitchen. By age 7, Torrey was obsessed with


Power Rangers and insects. He kept crickets in hisroomandstored ventilated jars of bees in the refrigerator. But unlike most 7-year-olds, he


changed diapers, did loads of laundry and dressed three younger brothers. He ran bath water and hollered, “You’d better get in that tub!” He tucked his brothers in for a 9 o’clock bedtime then he curled up to sleep with a baseball, basketball or football — depending on the season. “I was running the show,” Torrey says.


“When it comes to running a household, the only thing I didn’t do was physically work. I know everything about being a parent.” Money was scarce, but they found a


way.Onthe same dayMonicacamehome to an eviction notice taped to the door, she found a $302 child-support check in the mailbox. When she had $10 to her name, she hunted down a supermarket special. And when Torrey wanted to attend a sports camp, Monica’s former physical education teacher, Steve Swope, a venerable Colonial Beach coaching figure, stepped forward to pay for it because he saw a mom and son strug- gling to stay afloat. Through school or sports, Torrey always told his mom he would find a way to earn a college scholarship. “I wouldn’t change anything in my childhood for the better,” Torrey says. “I like every struggle I have been through. I have learned from it. It helpedmakemea better person. It is tough for me to break mentally.”


‘Scared to leave’ Torrey was never far from violence,


and much of it could be found in his home. When Torrey was 6, Monica mar- ried a man who was in and out of jail. Husband and wife fought with fists and weapons.Monica would be left battered. Her husband felt her wrath, as well, finding himself in the hospital a time or three. But her fear was real. Maintenance


workers turned a fire extinguisher on him to stop him from pummeling them. Onoccasion, she would be forced to drop the children at her mother’s and flee on foot, running into darkness to find an unlocked car where she would huddle up and sleep for the night, until the sun rose and danger temporarily subsided. “I was scared to leave him,” she says. Another time, Torrey and his brother


sat in the back seat of the car as the husband placed a 9mm gun to Monica’s head. He held it still. He pulled the trigger. When the ringing in Monica’s ears stopped, she realized she was still alive and looked up to see the hole in the roof left by the bullet. The kids fled to their grandma’s, while the husband held Monica hostage. Her mother called the sheriff, and aSWATteam wassummoned and treated it as a kidnapping. “WhenI tell you he went through a lot,


hewentthrough a lot,” she says.“Hedon’t tell a lot. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to think about it or whether he just buries it. I can tell you some stories.” Asked recently about his emotions


during those years, Torrey says: “When you see domestic abuse, there is nothing you can do as a kid. You just watch, hope, wish you were bigger so there was some- thing you could do. There was not really anything I could do but console my mother, help her get through it.” How didMonica not break? “You know, I ask myself that all the


time,” she says. “It’s a wonder. I have been mentally abused, I have been physically abused, I have been sexually abused. And I’mstill here. And a lot of people ask the same thing — why haven’t you broke? I won’t give people the pleasure. God is good. He has always made a way for me andmy family.”


‘You talk funny’ Torrey was in elementary school in the


late1990swhenMonicaandherhusband hadtheirsecondchild together(Monica’s sixth overall). She hoped a new environ-


PHOTOS BY MARVIN JOSEPH/THE WASHINGTON POST


As Torrey Smith received his degree in criminology and criminal justice atMaryland’s Dec. 19 graduation at Comcast Center, his proud mother,Monica Jenkins, above, yelled out, “There goesmy baby!” and “Tor-rey!Mommy loves you!”


ment might quell the violence, so the family moved to Pipestone,Minn., where the husband said a family member had promised him a job. It was a social education. The manure stench hung in the air from local farms. It was not uncommon to see moms, dads and chil- dren — together — milking cows. Bars served milk and cereal. Torrey was the only black child in his


school. On the first day, when told to introduce himself, he stood and said, “What’s going on, y’all?” The children stopped coloring mid-marker stroke. One girl looked up and said, “You talk funny. You said ‘y’all.’ ” The moment is frozen in his mind. It


“tormented” him.He didn’t thinkhefit in and spent many days wiping away tears. Racist? No, they held out their arms


with generosity. Locals gave Monica’s family a van and helped furnish their house. On most weekdays, Monica took computer classes until 1, then assembled VCR covers in a factory until 11. One of her two part-time weekend jobs entailed cutting off pig testicles. But at home, the abuse worsened, so


Monica one day loaded up the car and took the kids back to Virginia. Her


husband never signed the papers, but a divorce was ultimately granted. Their three years inMinnesota were a


watershed for the family. Torrey learned to adaptandfeel like he can blend in with any crowd. Monica and her kids saw families gather, tell stories, care for one another. When Monica and the kids movedback to Virginia, they never forgot those images. And they tried to create their own.


‘You’re theman’ By the time Torrey left Minnesota, he


had developed into such a strong-armed pitcher and power-hitting adolescent, he had attracted unusual interest from re- gional high school baseball coaches. They sawprofessional potential. When it came to football, Monica


didn’t believe in Torrey’s potential: “I used to always tell him: ‘Boy, you running over top of those kids because you ain’t got no competition. You wait to we get back here and the brothers are here, I’m going to see what you do then.’ “When he got back here and dominat-


ed, I put my hands up. I said, ‘You’re the man.’ ” Torrey began focusing on football. He


was a talented quarterback, defensive back and kick returner. He also learned discipline and the importance of details at StaffordHigh.His coach, Roger Pierce, instructed all players to enter pregame meetings with shined cleats and shoe laces overlapping to the outside. Torrey never missed a lace. Swope, who had become a mentor, frequently drove him to Virginia Tech games in his 13-year-old maroon van, sometimes at the request of Hokies de- fensive coordinator Bud Foster. Virginia also showed interest. But the concern was Torrey’s speed after he broke his leg as a junior. Virginia wanted him to run the 40-yard dash again on its campus. Maryland did not make such a request. Another reason why he chose Mary-


land was to be close to home. Monica always protected him, sometimes to his chagrin. In his last high school game, Torrey was playing with a considerable limp but he wanted to keep playing, and coaches made no move to take him out. Monica did. She walked onto the field and physically pulled him off. Moved to tears he was so angry, Torrey obeyed.


smith continued onD3


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100  |  Page 101  |  Page 102  |  Page 103  |  Page 104  |  Page 105  |  Page 106  |  Page 107  |  Page 108  |  Page 109  |  Page 110  |  Page 111  |  Page 112  |  Page 113  |  Page 114  |  Page 115  |  Page 116  |  Page 117  |  Page 118  |  Page 119  |  Page 120  |  Page 121  |  Page 122  |  Page 123  |  Page 124  |  Page 125  |  Page 126  |  Page 127  |  Page 128  |  Page 129  |  Page 130  |  Page 131  |  Page 132  |  Page 133  |  Page 134  |  Page 135  |  Page 136  |  Page 137  |  Page 138  |  Page 139  |  Page 140  |  Page 141  |  Page 142  |  Page 143  |  Page 144  |  Page 145  |  Page 146  |  Page 147  |  Page 148  |  Page 149  |  Page 150  |  Page 151  |  Page 152  |  Page 153  |  Page 154  |  Page 155  |  Page 156