CRAWFORD | Fernando Mendoza isn’t just Indiana’s quarterback. He’s the bonding agent | Sports

MIAMI, Fla. (WDRB) — What else is there to say about Fernando Mendoza? I’ve written about his rise, his family, his efficiency, his mindset. And somehow, I’m still not sure we’ve said enough.

Mendoza is more than just a quarterback. His role has been more than leadership for the No. 1-ranked Indiana football team that will face Miami Monday night in the College Football Playoff national championship game.

He doesn’t just execute the plays. He organizes molecules. He holds things together that ought to fall apart. You get the feeling he could walk into a pile of Legos and emerge with a cathedral.

He’s not the star. He’s the structure. For a team whose superpower isn’t so much its talent but its chemistry, Mendoza deliberately worked to make it as tight as his spiral.

Louisville | Kentucky | Indiana | Eric Crawford

Curt Cignetti, his head coach — who is allergic to hyperbole and most forms of public joy — said it this week with something close to awe:

“In Fernando, I saw how one guy could kind of bring a team together,” Cignetti said. “You can have close, tight teams, but this team here is extremely close. He was, like, the glue sealing the open edges and cracks, probably to a degree I had never seen before.”

That’s right. The coach of the No. 1 team in the country just compared his quarterback to Gorilla Glue.

And he meant it as a compliment.

Mendoza doesn’t get flustered. Not by blitzes, not by bandwagons, not by questions about the Raiders. He faced the largest throng of reporters at media day Saturday with all the poise he has shown in a collapsing pocket.

He answered everything the same way: slowly, thoughtfully, with a humility so polished it could be used as a floor wax.

He’s what happens when someone gives ChatGPT a rosary and a quarterback coach.

By now you know the numbers. Mendoza has thrown more touchdown passes than incompletions in this playoff run. He’s led Indiana to the edge of the sport’s most sacred summit. He’s made a team without a five-star feel like a constellation.

Heisman, Big Ten Championship, Rose Bowl, Peach Bowl. And now, Miami. Which happens to be home.

Indiana quarterback Fernando Mendoza, center, with teammates after the Hoosiers' Peach Bowl victory.
ERIC CRAWFORD

Of course it is. This is a quarterback whose whole life reads like a Pixar script. South Florida Cuban kid. Grandparents came from Cuba with nothing. Grew up a fan of the U. Wore the paint, threw up the hand signal, cheered for Malik Rosier.

Now he’s playing against the Hurricanes in the national championship, in the same stadium where he once wore orange and green face paint and got ketchup on his jersey.

That story is everywhere.

The better story — the one you feel more than see — is how Mendoza turned a group of strangers in the Indiana locker room into a single pulse.

Now, “glue guy” is a funny thing to call a Heisman winner. It usually belongs to the guy who plays 11 minutes and dives for loose balls. But Mendoza made it fashionable. Is he the first guy in history to throw for 40 touchdowns while spiritually leading a small group? Could be.

He has been the caulk in the cracks. The duct tape around the dream.

His Heisman message talked about teammates multiplying each others’ efforts. He called himself a point guard, distributing the ball to more talented guys around him. He repeatedly stresses “staying present” to give others their best chance

When Mendoza got to campus a year ago, he didn’t big-time anyone. Didn’t play the savior. Didn’t install a throne in the locker room.

He showed up and learned everybody’s name.

“First time I met him, they brought him to dinner,” said star receiver Elijah Sarratt. “Easy talk. We just clicked. As good as he is on the field, he’s that good off it, too.”

You don’t build a championship team with just fast guys and strong guys. You need guys who make people believe they belong.

Mike Shanahan, offensive coordinator, said Mendoza came in with his head down. Didn't force it. Didn't claim a huddle. Waited. Learned. And when his time came, he showed up like sunrise.

“He’s come out of his shell,” Shanahan said. “And once he got the respect of his teammates, his personality really started to shine.”

Translation: the quiet guy started talking. And when he talked, people listened. And when he threw, people caught it.

Sarratt remembers one throw against Iowa. Left hash, fade to the right sideline, between two defenders and a surveillance drone.

“I’m in the game thinking, did he really complete that?” he said.

He did. And a hundred like it.

But ask around, and it’s not the throws they talk about.

It’s the walks. The dinners. The check-ins. The “how’s your mom doing” moments. The way he throws belief around like a screen pass.

He’s got a 5.2 GPA, a LinkedIn profile that reads like Warren Buffett’s summer intern, a fundraising burrito named after him, and enough charisma to get Lil Uzi Vert in the building without waiting in line, paying Ticketmaster, or showing ID.

He even tried to share his Heisman with his priest.

He is, in short, a nightmare for cynics.

And now he’s here. Back in Miami. Back where the humidity and traffic slap you when you get off the plane and the questions come from people who knew you when your helmet still wobbled.

He says it doesn’t feel real. That he’s trying not to let it sink in. That he’ll save the emotions for next week.

Which is exactly what glue does. It holds fast.

Mendoza has already won trophies. He’s already made history. But you get the feeling he knows how this game ends will say more than all of that.

“Everyone is going to remember how I finished,” he said. “And hopefully we leave a good taste on Monday.”

Whatever happens next — draft picks, documentaries, LinkedIn endorsements from God — Indiana will remember what he did here.

They’ll remember the throws, sure.

But they’ll also remember the quarterback who walked in humbly, met everyone, meant it, and made a team hold.

The quarterback who kept the cracks from becoming fractures. The quarterback who made this moment stick.

Even his head coach, who has seen about everything, acknowledged he has learned from his quarterback. Asked about Mendoza’s public speaking ability on Saturday, Cignetti said, “He’s incredible. I take notes.”

A Heisman in one hand. A caulk gun in the other.