"Just the way he's handled this football team," says offensive coordinator Mike Levenseller. "In every phase, he's a leader. You want a place to stay, you stay with me. You don't have a ride, I will pick you up.

"I think that's his legacy. I'll always be able to use Jason with the younger players in the program now. I'll talk about his commitment level."

In the program's bleakest hours, Gesser seemed at his best. Against a revived Cal team in late September, when WSU's season could have died an early death, he had a dislocated rib, and he threw for 432 yards.

Rien Long's simple assessment of his teammate after the Rose Bowl-clinching game? "He's a hero."

Levenseller says Gesser was unmatched at preparation among the WSU quarterbacks he's been around. It would enable him to establish before the snap what was going to unfold.

Sometimes that would lead him to a terrible, perplexing throw. But that's what happens with competitors—they give it a shot. A couple of times, Gesser made public utterances that were intemperate—the officials cost the Cougars the Oregon game in 2001; something to the effect that they would have won the 2002 Apple Cup if he'd been able to remain upright. He was indomitable.

In school, he gravitated toward broadcasting. His favorite class was 465, "the best hands-on experience you could ever have," taught by WSU's longtime public-address announcer Glenn Johnson. It was a newsroom brought to life, in which 12 to 15 students put on the news, sports, and weather.

By the time his senior season began, Gesser had already walked through May graduation ceremonies and was only three hours short of a degree. It provided him the perfect dry run to become a coach, to spend hour upon hour in the film room and looking at formations on the dry-erase board, doing what coaches do.

"I'd say sometimes I should be getting paid for all the stuff I'm doing with them," Gesser says good-naturedly. He estimates his weekly investment—practice, weight room, film study, and meetings—at 45 to 55 hours.

Now, his horizon is wide. He talks about wanting to play pro football. Then he'd like to be a color commentator. And he wants to coach. Is he big enough for pro football?

"I think so," says Jim Gesser. "We're all cheering for Drew Brees [San Diego Chargers] this year. Jason is a little bit smaller, but they're both the same kind of quarterback. Then there's [Jeff] Garcia [San Francisco 49ers] out there. Where'd he come from? Nowhere."

Jim Gesser's son is asked what part of the football experience has been best, what little slice of it he would like to hang onto.

"I think it's playing against somebody, having a big game, where it's hard-fought, and the defense stops them, and we go out to run 'Victory O,' '' says Gesser, referring to the kill-the-clock offense.

"You're kneeing the ball down and you know they can't do anything about it. Your sideline is going crazy, your huddle is going crazy, the stadium's going crazy. I'll always cherish that."

Jason Gesser got to do that a lot. But when you recall the victories, also remember the valor.

Bud Withers (’70 Comm.) is a Seattle Times sports writer. He is the author of two books: Ralph Miller: Spanning the Game, 1990, a biography of the late Oregon State University basketball coach; and BraveHearts: The Against-All-Odds Rise of Gonzaga Basketball, 2002.