•
•
•
Ornstein meets with athletic student adviser Shari Goodman.
vous. "I was really relaxed, even during my
first game starting," he said. "I figured I've al-
ready played against Nebraska, it can't get
much worse."
On game days, seated in the sea of bodies at
Spartan Stadium are Ornstein's parents, Steve
and Joan. They drive from New Jersey to East
Lansing to watch their son play.
During the course of the game, Ornstein oc-
casionally glances in the direction of his par-
ents for a reassuring look from his father, a
former sportscaster who wrestled and played
lacrosse at Syracuse University. Back east, his
parents own a steak house in New York called
Holy Cow.
Ornstein, one of four children, grew up cel-
ebrating many of the "major" Jewish holidays.
This year, for Rosh Hashanah, Ornstein went
to his academic adviser's house. "We're the only
two Jews in the athletic department," he said.
Football isn't Ornstein's only sport. He also
puts on an MSU baseball uniform. He played
last spring at first base and as designated hit-
ter, batting .275 for the season.
In 1994, the Seattle Mariners baseball team
drafted him in the 20th round. He graciously
declined. This year, the Kansas City Royals
picked him in the_ 30th round of the draft and
were willing to accommodate his football sched-
ule. Again, Ornstein turned down the offer to
dedicate himself to football.
Ornstein the football player doesn't have any
game-time rituals, but Ornstein the baseball
player always wears the same wristbands. He
always puts black grease marks under his eyes
to block the sun, even if there isn't any, and he
taps his bat 11 times (he and New York Giants
quarterback Phil Simms share the number 11
on their football jerseys. In baseball, however,
Ornstein wears number 56 because 11 was tak-
en, and because 5+6=11).
Out of uniform, Ornstein is a typical college
student. He chooses to park in spots with time
left on the meter and boasts a baseball-hat col-
"I listen to those who matter
the most: my teammates,
coaches and family."
— Gus Ornstein
lection that would outfit the United States Sen-
ate. He tends to sit quietly in the back of
classes, taking copious notes. Outside the class-
room, he and Spartan receiver Derrick Mason
spend some free time in front of the television,
playing video games.
A lot of his spare time is also spent with his
girlfriend, a basketball player at Lansing Com-
munity College. Ornstein also watches sports
channel ESPN religiously.
Those who know Ornstein really like him.
Friends and acquaintances, including some of
the sports writers who cover Spartan football,
say Ornstein is one of the nicer guys they know.
And, on top of his good personality, the quar-
terback is intelligent. School has always come
easy for him. A communications major, his
grade-point average is 3.7.
In his small, on-campus apartment, Orn-
stein, who lives alone, proudly displays posters
of his sports heroes, including baseball play-
ers Don Mattingly and Ken Griffey Jr. and foot-
ball quarterbacks John Elway and Drew
Bledsoe. "That Mattingly poster only cost me
a dollar," Ornstein said. "I was so upset that
his poster only cost $1."
Among the photos of family and friends dis-
played is a picture of Ornstein and President
Clinton. In high school, Ornstein toured the
White House with a friend who arranged for
them to meet the president.
"Because [my friend's father] knew the pres-
ident, we were able to spend 10 minutes with
Clinton," Ornstein said.
A few years later, when Ornstein threw a
touchdown pass for Notre Dame, the president
sent him a note of congratulations.
Ornstein has no regrets about transferring
to MSU, despite the positive relationship he
had with Notre Dame Coach Lou Holtz.
"I'm doing what I've always wanted to do,"
he said. "How many people out there can say
they are doing what they want?" L
NO V E MB ER
.c)
41