CORAL GABLES, Fla. -- Miami safety Randy Phillips is one of 19 brothers and sisters. Then there is his father and grandmother and a slew of aunts, uncles and cousins, plus a girlfriend and a charming son who turns 3 next month.
They all look to him as the family leader.
And then there's the 90-some-odd other brothers inside the Miami locker room, guys who seek Phillips' counsel on everything from fatherhood to schoolwork to football and just about anything in between.
They all look to him as the family leader, too.
"I guess it's what I'm supposed to be," Phillips said.
Maybe his grandmother was on to something. As the story goes, she picked Phillips up when he was a baby and decided to call him "Big Man," a nickname that has stuck throughout his 23 years. It used to be only a moniker. These days, as his college career at Miami is in its final weeks, Phillips looks at the name as a measure of responsibility -- both to his family and his team.
He's played sick. He's playing hurt now, with a torn shoulder that will need surgery after the season and causes so much pain that his time on the field is, at best, minimal. But he's still there.
Big Man, indeed.
"The thing that you always like about Randy is he may get down, but he gets back on track real quick," Miami coach Randy Shannon said. "He has a lot of pride in what he's doing. He has a lot of pride in himself. And when things go back, he picks his head up because he knows things could be worse. Coming from where he's from, he's seen a lot worse."
If it sounds like Shannon has a special affinity with Phillips, it's because he does.
Shannon's job is to win football games, plain and simple. And the Hurricanes (7-2, 4-2 ACC) are surely better with Phillips than without him. But when Phillips got hurt against Virginia Tech -- all the way back in Game 3 of the season -- it didn't take Shannon long to decide not to decide anything on the player's behalf.
Phillips has a family to worry about. And yes, he does have his degree from Miami, but is hoping for NFL dollars. Knowing that, Shannon did not pressure Phillips about playing again on Saturdays in 2009, for fear that he could wreck his shot for Sundays in 2010.
"I've seen some guys here, their careers were done injury-wise," Shannon said. "That's the one thing that comes to my mind. Me and the doctors, we always talk about, 'What happens if he does play?' ... Those are the things we do."
Phillips expected nothing less from Shannon than understanding, which is what he received.
There's a reason why Shannon is remarkably popular among his players: Many of them see a lot of themselves in the coach. Phillips comes from a rough background, financially strapped upbringing, his mother died 17 years ago. Shannon, same thing: Father was killed when he was 3, siblings died of AIDS and fell victim to life on the streets, and he rose above it all.
"Coach Shannon means everything to me," Phillips said. "He's an example of an African American man who's in college football and is what society needs right now, especially in South Florida. He's always been there for me in the hard times. He's my inspiration."
Phillips is from the sun-baked town of Belle Glade, Fla., about an hour north of Coral Gables. Belle Glade's a place troubled by gang violence, drug use and unemployment. Football is the ticket out of town, and Phillips used it proudly, becoming the first in his family to attend college.
He briefly considered leaving after last season but decided to apply for a fifth season, and the NCAA obliged. Phillips' reason for returning was simple: He wanted to leave Miami's program better than he found it.
The class that will play their final game for the Hurricanes in a couple of months can say they've done that.
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