Aaron Murray’s amateur status was pronounced officially dead a little after 1 p.m. Saturday when an excited 15-year-old from the far south Georgia town of Dixie procured his signature on her No. 11 Bulldogs jersey.
Time that McKenzie Simpson, her father Jay and friend Macie Taylor arose to begin the long drive to the Georgia Square Mall: 2 a.m.
Length of their wait for the honor of being first in line: six hours.
Cost of the autograph: $35.
Chance to spend 30 seconds or so in the company of their favorite player (“Well, he’s the cutest,” explained Macie): priceless, one must suppose.
“I got up at 2 with a smile on my face,” McKenzie said.
“This was her Christmas present. We figured it was going to be our last chance to get an autograph,” said her father.
The college football world carried on Saturday without the Bulldog’s injured, record-setting quarterback. It pauses for no player, regardless of his Q rating.
Six of the game’s best convened in New York for the Heisman Trophy award — an event for which Murray was once being measured. Georgia resumed practice that very day for its upcoming bowl game against Nebraska, with Hutson Mason at the tiller.
What of Murray? Well, at least he had regained full control over his name and his brand. His senior season — a tableau of broken bodies and a couple particularly painful losses — ended in keeping with that theme when he blew out a knee against Kentucky. With no further need to appease the NCAA, he signed on with a marketing firm and opened himself up for business.
This was the first of two planned sign-for-pay sessions — the next at Alpharetta’s North Point Mall next Saturday afternoon — with a portion of the proceeds going to the Athens-based charity, Extra Special People. He also is planning to launch a football camp in February in Athens.
“I’m not eligible to play in the bowl game — just because I can’t play,” Murray said. “So, now this is the next step. It’s moving on to my next stage in life, and this is just the beginning process of it.”
By the scene Saturday, there seems to be a boom market for injured iconic Southern college quarterbacks.
The organizer of the event figured Murray could accommodate 550 autograph seekers before his hand would seize up into a useless claw (he also had to rush to the Georgia football gala later that day). Those tickets sold out quickly.
Now, consider that over his five years in Athens, Murray already had flooded the market with free autographs. “Tens of thousands” of them by his own count.
Still, the line of those willing to pay for one at one point Saturday stretched outside the empty mall space where he was perched, out the door, past Shoe Dept., took a hard left at J.C. Penney and snaked down New York & Company, a children’s entertainment area and Kay Jewelers.
“He gave us five years. We ought to be able to give him an hour-and-a-half in line,” reasoned Athens’ Stanley Thomas, who had seven articles for Murray to autograph.
There would be no Heisman for Murray. No good and clean ending to his playing career. In another way, though, an event such as this represented a tribute to his seasons of service and the power of his personality.
“It’s nice that the hedge is gone and he gets to interact with the fans,” said Murray’s mother, Lauren.
“We came up (from Tampa) for the gala and saw this and just thought, ‘Wow.’ We couldn’t believe it,” said his father, Denney.
These were far from fair-weather fans. In fact, it was pouring outside. These were people who paid real money and went to great effort to capture a last up-close glimpse of Murray and to purchase a signature and a smile before he departed for an uncertain fate in the NFL.
“We were never worried he would show up in a police report,” said Thomas, setting the bar for popularity rather low. For Murray went beyond the minimum requirements of good citizenship and excelled on campus (an academic All American) and off.
His fans showed up at the signing in wide assortment.
Justin and Amanda Kong of Roswell stood in line with their two sons Ethan, 6, and Gavin, 4, for close to three hours for a brief encounter. “There are not many players I’d do that for, but he is such a good kid. He has such a good character,” Justin said.
Carol Corina, 77, of Athens, rolled through the line with the help of a wheelchair in order to get two Murray signatures for her grandsons back in Florida. “Aaron is their idol. He has been special both athletically and academically. He’s a class act that everybody can be proud of,” she said.
Alexandra Hill, a 15-year-old from Marietta, was still shaking after getting an autographed photo. “I’m going to frame this and keep this for the rest of my life — I’m not kidding,” she said.
Another teenage girl sobbed uncontrollably as she finally made it to the front of the line, as if meeting a much, much cooler version of Justin Bieber. “I love you,” she gushed through the tears.
Hugs were free, and they came in profusion. Well wishes flowed from the audience, as if Murray was the one paying them for their presence. For a couple hours, he had the world’s largest entourage.
No, there will be no Heisman. There is no bowl game for which to prepare. Murray will be heading to Jacksonville on his own. “I’m pretty much like an alum now,” he said. But he profited nicely from Saturday, and not only monetarily.
“This is unbelievable,” he said in mid-signing. “This is the definition of my career here: The love and support I felt from my first year here all the way to the end.
“It has been five years of love and affection, and I have appreciated it so much.”
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