BY TOM GROESCHEN
The Cincinnati Enquirer
More teams than Miami saw the No. 9 on the back of Tinker Keck's jersey last year.
(Gary Landers photo)
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Not many people are named Tinker. Not many people grow up on farms any more. And not many people are All-America candidates in football.
Tinker Keck is all of those. The University of Cincinnati senior safety has bucked long odds to achieve his fame, keeping his head while all about him were scratching theirs.
Tinker Keck? Hee-hee-hee.
Hey Tinker! Tinker Bell! Tinker Toy! Tinkerrrrr!!!
"I've heard it for years," Keck said. "There's nothing I haven't heard."
And he's always had the same reaction.
"Well, I'll show you."
It started when he was a baby, born Aug. 10, 1976 in the heartland of Colby, Kan.
As the brutal winter of 1976-77 took hold, Tinker Keck got an early start on life. He never crawled, skipping that stage and going straight to walking between the ages of 8 and 9 months.
Instead of staying in a walker, he would climb out and push. He would jump out of his crib at night, sometimes landing on his head.
By age 6, he was playing in backyard football games with his 12-year-old brother's crowd in Colby. They would say how tough little Tinker was, admire him for hanging right in there.
It was about then, when he first went to school, that young Tinker knew he was different. Why were people always making fun of him?
Because, of course, not many people are named Tinker.
And you can thank Phil Keck for that.
And Tinker Owens.
Phil and Jane Keck already had two kids, Angie and Trent, when Tinker arrived five weeks after the Bicentennial Fourth of July in 1976. Phil was a big fan of Tinker Owens, a University of Oklahoma All-America receiver from 1972-75.
"I just liked to watch him play," Phil Keck said. "It's an unusual name, and we just wanted something unusual."
Jane, Phil's wife, had to be persuaded.
"I didn't want him to be an oddball," she said. "But now I never have regretted the name.
Tinker Ty Owens was christened.
"I insisted I was going to call him Ty," Tinker's mother said. "But you know what? I never did."
There was trouble of another kind, however. Phil and Jane divorced when Tinker was a freshman in high school, and both have since remarried. Jane -- now Jane Reitz -- and Phil still make the 1,000-mile drive to Cincinnati to catch Tinker's home games, albeit separately.
"That was hard," Tinker said of the divorce. "It was probably one of the hardest things a kid can go through. We still have to deal with it, but it's something you accept over time."
Tinker remembers farm life as tough but fair. He grew up on 2,000 acres in the tiny burg of Brewster, Kan.
"On Saturdays you had to get up by 7 just to watch a few cartoons," he said. "Then you worked. If you've lived on a farm, you know there's always something to do. I drove a tractor, I cut the hay. We had cattle and all kinds of livestock."
And all kinds of time. The nearest neighbor lived a mile away, leaving plenty of time for daydreaming -- while working, of course.
"Being out there on a tractor or something, I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted out of life," Keck said. "I always pictured myself as a professional athlete."
As do millions of other American boys. But young Tinker never sat still, according to his mother. And when he became a star on school sports teams, he did it in spite of constant yakking from opponents.
"I clearly remember a basketball game where this kid was razzing Tinker," Jane Reitz said. "Tinker didn't say anything, but just drove right around him and went in for a layup."
That was how Tinker usually answered the critics. He remembers football foes sing-songing his name, then watching in silence as he returned a kick for a touchdown or intercepted a pass.
He was a star in high school, as most college players were. But western Kansas is not exactly a Mecca for recruiters, so Tinker took his game to junior college Hutchinson Community in Hutchinson, Kan.
"I only weighed 170 pounds, so not a lot of people wanted me," he said.
At Hutchinson, he played for Rob Ryan, whose brother Rex was defensive coordinator at UC. One thing led to another. Keck found out UC needed a free safety and punt returner, and he was off to UC with Rex.
Cincinnati didn't know what to think when coach Rick Minter told the city, in summer 1997, "Tinker Keck. Remember that name, because he's going to be a star."
Around town, Keck has developed somewhat of a cult following. Unusual guy, unusual feats. Returned four punts for touchdowns in '97, tying an NCAA record. Included were two TD returns in one game, tying another record.
Keck made some preseason All-America teams, and draft analysts such as ESPN's Mel Kiper rate him a NFL prospect.
He's also tall dark and handsome at 6-foot-1 and 200 pounds. Doesn't drink or smoke. Gets good grades, an A-B student as an exercise physiology major.
"We're real proud of him," said Keck's mother. "He went after his goals, and he's made the most of them."
Despite the name. Despite the odds. And despite the father who, perhaps unwittingly, did his son a favor 22 years ago.
"I think it's helped make me a stronger person," Tinker Keck said. "I was never one to talk back, I just let the anger build and worked it into something positive."
Then again, he could have his younger brother's name. A 4-year-old from his father's second marriage, another who will someday learn about his father's sense of humor.
Treck.
That's right. Treck Keck.
Good luck, kid.