Daniel Rubin: W. Chester U. players honor their own 9/11 hero

Mike Horrocks returned to Farrell Stadium on Tuesday, lowered 100 feet by crane and placed on a granite pedestal so that when West Chester University football players emerge from their locker room, they can touch his bronze likeness and honor his legacy.

His widow, Miriam, hopes the larger-than-life statue brings closure for their children. Since 9/11, they have longed for something tangible.

"One of the most difficult challenges we had immediately following the tragedy was, 'Where are Daddy's things?' Where was the briefcase, where was the watch we had given him for Christmas?"

When Horrocks left the house in Glen Mills on Sept. 9, 2001, he was 38. He'd been a star on the football field for the Golden Rams, then joined the Marines. He'd always wanted to fly.

Horrocks was first officer on United Airlines Flight 175, the second jet that hijackers steered into the World Trade Center in the act of terror that we saw on live television.

"My son, Mick, was 6," Miriam says. "Now he's 15. He'll say, 'I didn't know what was happening.' He turned very often to my daughter, who was 9, to see how she was reacting. The hard part was that there was nothing physical to hold."

Two years after 9/11, the Horrockses helped build a playground at Mick and Christa's school - Glenwood Elementary in the Rose Tree Media district - so every time they stepped outside, they could see the plaque for their father.

"It let them have something," Miriam says, "but when we heard about this, we were pretty much blown away."

That's the point behind the statue and the scholarship that West Chester's former and current players have given to their school - to show the family how much Horrocks was admired.

"He was the best of us," said Joe Walsh, one of the organizers of the tribute. "The best of us."

Saturday, the ninth anniversary of 9/11, will be Mike Horrocks Day, with speeches, a Marine flyover, and a 21-gun salute. Horrocks' daughter will speak publicly about her father for the first time. Christa is 18 and a freshman at the College of Charleston, where she won a track scholarship.

"She talks in her speech about the statue giving a physical presence that jogs people's memory and continues to tell his story," her mother says. "That way we continue to keep him alive."

This week, his old teammates told some stories about their lanky, laid-back quarterback, the sort of leader who never sought to be the center of attention but nevertheless drew people close.

"He was cocky but funny, and a good guy," said Tom Schafer, a senior center on the team when Horrocks saw his first action as a sophomore.

The starting quarterback got hurt during one play. Horrocks filled in.

"He crouched down in the middle of the huddle, looked up at us and said, 'Ah, the big boys.' I said, 'Shut up and call the play.' " Years later, the two still laughed about the exchange.

Horrocks' first start came during his junior year in 1983. He led West Chester to its first win over its bigger rival, Delaware, in 27 years. By then, his leadership skills were on full display. John Mininno remembers one play that season, when Horrocks was being chased by an opposing linebacker and the coaches were hollering at him to step out of bounds.

"At the last minute, he turned around and put his shoulder into the linebacker, just to prove a point. He didn't take the easy way out."

Paul Isenberg was a tight end, two years younger than Horrocks and eager to break into the lineup. His number was called one game freshman year, and he ran the wrong pattern. The ball sailed over his head, and Isenberg was just able to tip it. Unfortunately, he tipped it away from the intended receiver.

The offensive coordinator chewed out Isenberg, then chewed him out again. This went on for what seemed like 20 minutes.

Then the veteran quarterback approached, and Isenberg prepared for another lashing.

"Did you tip that pass?" Horrocks asked.

"I did."

"You know," Horrocks said, "you really got up there. Don't worry about it."

They became friends, and years later, when both had married, the Isenbergs and the Horrockses socialized together.

Paul Isenberg lost his wife, Nicole, to cancer in 2003. Miriam Horrocks reached out to console him and his family. The widow and widower married, each bringing two children and a dog to the relationship. "We talk, probably every day, about each other's spouse to the kids," Miriam says.

Horrocks' friends have raised more than $150,000 in his memory, for the statue and a football scholarship. Miriam Horrocks Isenberg says her late husband would not have known what to make of the giant No. 14 set on a pedestal.

"He would have suggested five other guys who should have a statue."

But that scholarship would have pleased him. "He would have loved helping someone get a college education and further their dreams.

"My kids say all the time, he wasn't a hero because of how he died. He was a hero because of how he lived."