I never met Todd Doxey personally. If I had ever spoken to him or crossed his path, I was unaware. Todd Doxey only existed to me in the form of numbers.
Four. Number of consecutive weeks Doxey served as player of the week on the football scout team last season. It implies hard work, dedication and mastery of defensive nuances that would likely have led to contributions on special teams or in long-decided games this season. Also the number of “stars” given to Doxey by Rivals.com, signifying his status within the hierarchy of the recruiting class of 2007.
Six-foot-two, 175, 4.6. Doxey’s height, weight and 40-yard dash time from high school, according to Rivals. Tall, lean, fast. Malleable.
Twenty-nine. His jersey number.
Zero. Number of career games Doxey will play in for the Ducks, having redshirted all of last year.
Doxey’s death cannot be marginalized because his story, in many ways, is my story. As a Duck, Doxey represents every student, albeit in the highly public forum of college football. His every practice would be endlessly scrutinized based upon the number of words written about him on message boards and blogs, as well as the overall message they reflect. He then becomes instantly recognizable – in a very loose, impersonal sense – as a football-playing entity with great potential. He couldn’t be picked out of a lineup without the number 29 on his chest.
But with deification comes crucifixion. An accidental death, by its very nature, could be prevented. Something had to have gone “wrong.” Personally, I do not plan on undertaking any recreational jaunts to the McKenzie River because, as Doxey’s death certifies, the waters are dangerous. All this amounts to spinning wheels.
We’ll likely see one less defensive back on the field for the first defensive play against Washington on August 30. We’ll likely see a number of “29” stickers on helmets, slogans on signs, and images on T-shirts. Doxey’s memory will live on in the hearts of teammates and close friends, while people like myself will celebrate a kid we never knew.
In college football, it’s all too easy to get lost in the proverbial shuffle, one face in a sea of a hundred or more. Not every name or face will stand out. We only see Doxey come to light as the hard worker and amiable character he is in his passing. It’s unfortunate. It’s a cold way of looking at collegiate athletics.
The students, fans and supporters owe it to themselves to get to know their Ducks as much as possible. These are young men and women-Ducks don’t have to be athletes-who have made a commitment to academics and extracurricular activities for the benefit of themselves and, in turn, for the benefit of the University itself. Very few people knew who Michael DiVincenzo was when, in the waning minutes of the Sun Bowl against South Florida on December 31, DiVincenzo intercepted a pass and returned it for the Ducks’ final touchdown of the game. In that moment, DiVincenzo’s joy was our joy. In this, the loss of every teammate, friend and family member of Doxey is our loss as well.
From the 85 scholarship athletes to the many walk-ons, Oregon football players feature varying degrees of familiarity. Oregon fans owe it to their football team to get to know each and every one of them and value their contributions to the school and the team.
Todd Doxey is, was and forever will be a Duck. As will I. The University community, a far-reaching network, always comes together to remember its students-and its student-athletes-with the utmost reverence in passing. Let us appreciate their endeavors in life as we do in death.
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