TOUCHDOWN TERRY
CONT.
SNAP COUNTDOWN: Portland Thunder training camp is being held at Tualatin Indoor Soccer, a 17-mile drive from Emmert International.
Thomas, who is competing to become the Thunder’s starting quarterback, was a star at the University of Oregon—in the 2010 season, he took the Ducks to the national championship game. Thomas entered the NFL draft two years ago, but no team picked him. He hasn’t played in a game since. “If he could be good,” says Dwight Jaynes, a commentator for CSN Northwest, “some of those Ducks fans are going to wander through the door.” Emmert takes Thomas with him everywhere—including to political and nonprofit fundraisers—and calls him “a member of the family.” On a chilly night last month, he brought the quarterback to a downtown Portland movie screening. The film, Levitated Mass, was a documentary by director Doug Pray about Emmert International moving a granite boulder 115 miles to become part of a Los Angeles art installation. The 88-minute movie ponders the meaning of modern art while tracing the rock’s march westward. What did Thomas think of the picture? “I’m kind of a comedy guy,” he said. After the movie, Emmert took Thomas and his entou18
Willamette Week MARCH 5, 2014 wweek.com
rage to Ruth’s Chris Steak House to celebrate the 50th birthday of Emmert’s son, Terry Michael. Thomas sat stiffly as Emmert International executives pressed him for stories about Ducks games and the rules of the arena league. “It’s still football,” he said softly. They urged him to talk about how Emmert hopes to augment the Moda Center concession stands with pepperoni sticks made from his herd of water buffalo. “They call them Thunder Sticks,” said Thomas,smiling skeptically. “They’re going to sell them at the game.” Terry Michael interrupted: “No, it’s Thunder Dicks!” He and a fellow executive laughed so hard they cried. As the party died down, Emmert requested a foil bag of steak bones to take home to his German shepherd, Baron.
M
eadow Lemon watched last week in the musty confines of a Tualatin indoor soccer center as the older brother of Blazers AllStar guard Damian Lillard fumbled snaps to the tune of Madonna’s “Ray of Light.”
Lemon is the Thunder’s general manager. He wears three-piece suits and was an assistant coach for the football teams at Lewis & Clark and Linfield colleges. He’s the son of Meadowlark Lemon, the former “Clown Prince” of the Harlem Globetrotters—and his phone ringtone whistles “Sweet Georgia Brown,” the Globetrotters’ theme song. He says Emmert inspires him. “This man moves things that other people say are impossible,” Lemon says. “That’s who I want to be around.” Houston Lillard is among 40 players at Thunder training camp. The players are staying at a Days Inn in Clackamas, then traveling 30 minutes by van each morning to Tualatin Indoor Soccer. The speakers blare dated pop music, and the walls around the soccer field are covered with padding for the players to crash into—which they do whenever a pass is overthrown. This is pro football—but barely. The players are competing for 24 roster spots—and a paycheck of $830 per game. That number, a result of a hard-fought collective