The kid's going to be OK. That's my hunch.

Oh sure, there are plenty of people who will disagree. They've already put Taylor Martinez in a box and stamped a label on it, ready to ship back to California.

The kid's too immature. He's not a leader. Never will be. Not tough. He tried to quit, or so they've heard. Can't pass. Cellphone at halftime? Calling daddy? He might grow up, but they doubt it.

For better or worse, this is the Nebraska quarterback job. You take your hits on the field and off. Every move is analyzed and run through the washer again. It's what you sign up for. Can't take the heat? Stay out of the huddle.

The heck of it is the footsteps you follow. Turner Gill and Tommie Frazier set an almost impossibly high standard. Gill and Frazier stepped on campus with the poise and maturity of 30-year-olds. The truth is, they were that special. The truth is, every kid is different, every kid grows at his own pace, through his own successes and failures.

The truth is, Husker football is a machine that rewards the strong, chews up the weak and waits for no one.

I thought about this recently, as the hype around Martinez has risen. He's this, he's that, he's new, he's improved. We'll see. He'll show us or not.

What I do know is that there's hope, and that led me to the Kroc Center in South Omaha. There's another kid we used to know, a kid we used to call immature, another kid who was labeled a quitter. The kid's still around, still wearing shoulder pads, still following the boy who lives inside his heart. There he is now.

Eric Crouch is 32, with a wife, two kids, two jobs and a mortgage. Suited up in pads and a jersey (No. 9), he doesn't look a day over 2001. He's competing to be the starting quarterback for the Omaha Nighthawks, a team in a fledgling league that would be a Hail Mary, final shot in the twilight in Crouch's career. But why not? Thanks to his own decisions, Crouch has plenty left in the tank.

He did it the hard way, in some ways, but Crouch is grown up. He's become a man, a man who looks wistfully at his mistakes — "dumb things" — but understands that they made him a better man in the long run.

My goal was to check up on the Heisman Trophy winner on his 10th-year anniversary, but also see if he had any sage advice for another kid going through the trials and tribulations down in Lincoln.

Looks like Crouch was way ahead of me.

He spent some time in Lincoln this summer, talking to any Husker who wanted to listen, and there were plenty. Also, he sought out Martinez. They chatted, about "stuff,'' Crouch said. He wouldn't share everything. But Crouch has followed Martinez. The comparisons are obvious.

"There's so much improvement from your freshman to sophomore year,'' Crouch said. "Everything he went through last year is going to pay off. The game slows down. You start to understand the offense better. You feel (like) more of a leader. I can totally understand what he was saying about how there was senior leadership last year, and it was hard for him to (step on that)."

Crouch can indeed relate. As a freshman, he said, you get thrown in with things happening fast. Your head is swimming. "I remember, as a freshman, going up to the line, wanting to get the play called and run another play. Well, that can work. But it's not going to be the most effective."

In time, a quarterback knows what everyone else on the offense is doing and he has an idea what the defense is doing.

"As the game slows down, you turn around (from the huddle) and look at the defense," Crouch said. "It comes with maturity, and confidence. I just think there's a big jump from year one to year two."

But you have to perform, Crouch said. "You have to be able to come through in big games, come from behind, remain poised during tough times."

Some people still question Crouch's ability to do that. His résumé begs to differ. He absorbed countless hits, and while he carried it a bunch, he was also the best runner in the offense. He led the 1999 team to the Big 12 title, and the Huskers looked like the No. 1 team in the nation at the end. Truth is, Crouch put the team on his shoulders most of his career, especially the 2001 season. And especially the game at Colorado, which would have been worse had Crouch not kept fighting. He still ended up winning a deserving Heisman.

Good thing, then, that he didn't quit.

He thought about it, though. At the beginning of his sophomore year, the week of the 1999 opener at Iowa, Crouch was distraught that Bobby Newcombe won the starting job. The kid who grew up without a dad went to lean on a father figure, Millard North coach Fred Petito. A lot of things were swirling in his head.

So, sure, when he hears that Martinez reportedly had those same thoughts last summer, and again after the Texas A&M game, Crouch can relate.

"There's an old saying: You don't want to give up because you never know what might happen,'' Crouch said. "I honestly thought about giving up football at that time. Which was crazy, if you think about it. Here I am, still playing at 32. Whatever things you go through in life, you have to figure out what it is you really love to do.

"I've made some emotional decisions. You should never make big decisions while you're emotional.''

Another of those was cutting his own pro career short because St. Louis wouldn't let him play quarterback. It brought back the quitter label from his critics. He was called the biggest Heisman bust. Really? How's Tim Tebow doing lately? Tebow hasn't moved to tight end yet, right? The idea of a Heisman bust is flawed. The Heisman is awarded for heroics on the college field, period, paragraph.

Bottom line: Crouch, like Tebow, saw himself only as a quarterback, and if there was a regret, it was wavering from that vision.

"I'd like to go back and change some things,'' Crouch said. "There's no doubt I could have been a great receiver. I could have been a Ricky Proehl-type guy, make some inside moves, play slot, be that third-down guy.

"I don't regret that part of it. What I regret is not looking at some of the other options before I ran out of there so fast. It was a pretty hasty decision. It was my fault because I told them I would play where they wanted me to play. And, if I could go back, I would go back in the draft and say I want to play quarterback. The Packers would have drafted me in the fourth round to play quarterback. It would have been a different story for me.''

The story isn't over, though. Crouch considers himself a lucky man. By his own doing, he's got a lot of football left in his body and soul. The Nighthawks, a pro team in his hometown, are a godsend. One of the perks: His children, Lexi (12) and Carson (7) will get to see their dad play football.

"I never thought Omaha would have a professional football team,'' Crouch said. "And I never thought I could have a chance to play again this late in my career, and run an offense that I've always wanted to run, something very fast tempo. I'm excited.''

He's owned a playground equipment business for eight years now. He's also on the road constantly, selling medical supplies at hospitals throughout Nebraska, South Dakota and Iowa. The Hawkeye fans remember the hit he delivered in Iowa City in 1999. The Husker fans remember him well, as they should. Crouch brought them glory. And now they hope for the same from another young kid. It's a hope that the heat from Nebraska football doesn't break Martinez, but makes him stronger.

The advice from a former kid with scars: Give the new kid some room. He'll be fine.

"You get wiser as you get older.''

Crouch, the old sage? There's a lesson in there for Martinez. Probably for us all.

Contact the writer:

402-444-1025, tom.shatel@owh.com

twitter.com/tomshatelOWH

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