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	Photo: Oakland Raiders

Quarterback JaMarcus Russell has a lot riding on his shoulders.

 Selected No. 1 overall by the Oakland Raiders in the 2007 NFL draft out of Louisiana State University, he bears the amazing task of reviving a once-proud franchise. He wears the pressure of meeting the standards of past great Raiders quarterbacks—Ken Stabler, Jim Plunkett, Rich Gannon. And that halo over his head? That’s actually the microscope he’s under. It comes with being a top pick, and the heat it brings won’t be going away anytime soon.
    But despite the enormity of Russell’s challenge, there is widespread expectation for him to succeed. Anyone who’s been around Russell for any length of time has little doubt he’s going to be the next Raider great, that he’s the guy to spearhead the franchise’s long-awaited return to greatness.
    Rarely does a rookie quarterback get the keys to such a valuable franchise before he attempts a pass. Even rarer is the fact that no one is expecting him to fail.
    “He’s just so cool,” Raiders head coach Lane Kiffin says. “He’s a cool customer that goes into any setting—whether it’s here or back home, whether it’s at LSU—and he just fits right in. And people take to him. That’s huge at that position. For the starting quarterback, you need your team to take to you. … If you watch guys around him, he knows how to handle himself. He doesn’t rub people the wrong way. He has no arrogance about him at all. That’s big because the players need to feel that from him. Some guys have screwed that up for him in the past.”
    So what makes everyone so sure of this prodigy? Why is he expected to deliver where so many have failed? What makes Russell the chosen one?

Maybe it’s his physical tools.

    As quarterbacks go, he’s a freak. Russell, a Mobile, Ala., native, stands 6-foot-6, nearly 260 pounds, and has a cannon for an arm.
    He can make every throw possible, running either direction, under any circumstance. That ability gets him in trouble sometimes, as he’s been known, on occasion, to let his ability to perform the spectacular prevent him from making the simple play. But a Superman complex is understandable given his talent.
    He snatched the breath away from NFL scouts and executives by throwing the ball some 75 yards—from one knee. In January, during practice before the Sugar Bowl, he threw the ball 40 yards with his backside planted on the turf. Just try it once to fully comprehend the degree of difficulty.
    Making him even more freakish is his mobility. He’s no Michael Vick, but he moves pretty well for someone of his stature. Most big, strong quarterbacks are sitting ducks in the pocket. And Russell’s weight is a concern, as he’s on the heavy side. Still, he has enough quickness and speed to escape sacks, keep plays alive and make first downs with his feet.
    In quarterback math, size + arm + wheels = unfair.
    He was certainly unfair at the college level, where he was a man among boys. As a starting quarterback at LSU, Russell led the Tigers to a 25-4 record and a Bowl Championship Series victory. In January, he put on a stellar show in LSU’s 41-14 rout of Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl, significantly outshining the Fighting Irish’s starting quarterback Brady Quinn.
    In his sophomore and junior seasons combined (25 games), Russell threw for 5,572 yards and 43 touchdowns, with just 17 interceptions, and six fourth-quarter comebacks.
    He left college ranked in the top five of every passing category kept at LSU—and he skipped his senior season.
    “I saw him in the eighth or ninth grade,” says Jimbo Fisher, the quarterbacks coach at LSU during Russell’s tenure. “I always thought he would be great. It was never a doubt in my mind. When he was throwing the ball then, you knew he was something.”

Maybe it’s his mental strength.

    The challenge Russell is embracing is enough to make a grown man crumble. Raiders fans can attest to the litany of touted quarterbacks who didn’t make it in the Silver & Black—from Todd Marinovich to Kerry Collins to last year’s debacle, Aaron Brooks. Still, perhaps the most diehard and maniacal fan base in sports—the Raider Nation—is putting its hopes in this kid, eager for his era to begin. As early as June, you could drive past 55th Street and Martin Luther King Jr. Way during the afternoon and find a man selling T-shirts adorned with Russell’s face and his No. 2.
    He’s also got Raiders lore hovering over his shoulder—exemplified by the regular presence of Raiders Hall of Famers such as Willie Brown, the defensive backs coach, and the white sweatsuit of owner Al Davis. The Raiders even brought in offensive guru Greg Knapp, who has coached a quarterback to the Pro Bowl in seven of his 12 years in the NFL, to be the team’s offensive coordinator and groom Russell.  
    Add to that the eyes of the sports nation, watching to see if the Raiders made the wrong choice, watching to see if Russell warrants the investment of tens of millions of dollars, waiting for him to disappoint, as have past quarterback failures like Jeff George and Tim Couch.
    It sounds like too much for a 21-year-old. Most top picks are exalted as the savior of downtrodden franchises, especially at the clubs that are perennial losers. Few get the task of turning around an organization that expects championships. Though they went 2-14 last season, the Raiders were just in the Super Bowl in 2003 and are desperate to get back.
    But Russell says he isn’t fazed. He says he doesn’t worry about the pressure and expectations being heaped on him, doesn’t think twice about the history and tradition that now engulf him.
    With the matter-of-factness painted on his face, with the calm and self-assurance dripping from his ’Bama twang, it’s hard not to believe him.
    “I’ve been there before,” says Russell, who played before 100,000 fans every week at LSU. “I’ve been that guy ready to step forward, go out there and put everything on his back. I’ve been in that situation numerous times. Right now, I’m just ready to try something new. It’s just another step up. Whatever it takes to better myself, I’m going to do it.”
    Jimbo Fisher, now Florida State University’s offensive coordinator, tells a story that illustrates Russell’s psyche. When Russell was a prep senior trying to choose a college, Fisher made an uncomfortable call to the Williamson High School star. He told Russell that LSU, which had already locked up the heralded Matt Flynn as the top quarterback coup, got a commitment from their second quarterback. Fisher—knowing that recruits never sign with schools that have already inked top recruits at the same position—explained to Russell that he understood if Russell wanted to go elsewhere. But Russell’s response blew Fisher away.
    “He said to me, ‘Coach, you’re saying you don’t want me,’” Fisher says, reliving his conversation with the 17-year-old Russell. “I said, ‘No, I’d love to have you.’ Then you know what his response was? He said, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do now. But if you still want to recruit me, I don’t care if you go sign five quarterbacks. If LSU is where I want to go, that’s where I’m going.’ He wasn’t going to let somebody else dictate where he was going. That said more to me about him than anything he’d done on the field. From that day on, I knew he had something inside to be able to be special.”
    Russell exudes confidence, but packages it in trademark Southern humility, which is perhaps why others are so quick to place their belief in him.
    Though everyone’s waiting for his reign to begin, he’s not bothered that he will likely start the season as the Raiders’ backup quarterback so he can learn the ropes, which has members of the Raiders’ brain trust struggling to contain their joy over the team’s future leader. Despite being the No. 1 overall pick, he hasn’t shown any discontent about having to earn whatever he gets, which is why his teammates have responded so well to him.
    Russell is willing to work as if he has to prove his talent and isn’t the chosen one, and he doesn’t mind staying behind the scenes even when being pushed to the front.
    “Really, that goes to his demeanor and who he is,” Kiffin says. “You had to study that before you drafted him to know he’s not a guy who gets flustered, whether it’s in the huddle or in crucial situations or dealing with people. He’s really a people person and everyone who’s ever dealt with this guy [has] had great relationships with him, whether it’s dealing with kids, or dealing with coaches or other players. So that was a big part for us.”

Maybe it’s his track record of conquering adversity.

    Russell overcame the difficulties of growing up in a tough neighborhood and being raised in a nontraditional family setting, accomplishments that can’t go understated. And though he has four uncles who serves as male role models, Russell is still dogged about maintaining the sometimes-rocky relationship with his father, Bobby Lloyd.
    His experience dealing with familial and socioeconomic obstacles and the continued success he’s had overcoming life’s struggles make Russell comfortable in the arduous circumstances he faces in football.
    He set state records for passing yards (10,744) and touchdowns (84) at a high school that’s hardly considered a football powerhouse. In college, he carried one of college football’s greatest programs to the elite level, appeasing rabid Tigers supporters’ nearly insatiable appetite for dominance.
    He’s come through in the clutch off the field as well. During the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, he housed legendary New Orleans musician Fats Domino, the grandfather of his girlfriend, along with more than a dozen other family members and friends, in his apartment.
     Russell has proven time and again that he can thrive in adverse situations. He’s always been the one people count on, and he’s known for coming through.
    “He’s extremely tough, competitive; and he’ll put the time in,” Fisher says. “JaMarcus is about winning. You combine his intangibles with his great ability, and you get a great champion.”
    Maybe it’s his destiny.