DaytonDailyNews.com

The message Art Schlichter brings to town is simple: Don't do what I did.

"I'm not asking people to forgive or accept me," Schlichter said. "My goal is to help somebody not have to go through what I went through."

Schlichter, the long-ago Ohio State quarterback and NFL player whose gambling addiction melted his career and marriage, is working to restore his life after being released from prison last June.

His steps are slow and perilous, especially when it comes to re-connecting with his two teenage daughters.

Representing Gambling Prevention Awareness, the nonprofit organization he founded and directs, Schlichter will give a free talk Sunday evening (doors open at 5:30) at Centerville United Methodist Church.

"I'm going to tell them my story and what happened to me," he said. "How I got caught up in addiction and how it can happen to anybody."

Fast lane no more

A call to his cell phone this week caught Schlichter driving from his Washington Court House home — he lives with his 70-year old mother, Mila — to Indianapolis to visit his daughters, age 17 and 13. He asked that their names not be used.

Now 46, Schlichter lives in the slow lane after being locked away in, by his count, 44 jails and prisons at various times over a 10-year span for an array of gambling-inspired crimes ranging from theft to forgery to money laundering.

Schlichter says he bet on whatever he could, including NFL games, which is what got him banned from the league. From 1982 through 1985 with the Baltimore/Indianapolis Colts, he appeared in 13 games.

"Never (bet) a game I played in," he said. "I felt like I had some integrity as a gambler. I played hard when I played. I don't think anybody could say I didn't. I just had an addiction that took over. Eventually, I lost the edge. I couldn't play up to my ability."

His brushes with the law began 13 years ago in Las Vegas, and today his rap sheet could almost paper a wall. The theme for Sunday's talk: "Finding My Way."

"It's just been a rough time," Schlichter said. "I was a high-profile case. They weren't especially nice to me (in prison). I'm sure they were trying to drill home the fact that my behavior was unacceptable."

Was there a particular low point?

"I hate to talk about it before the speech," he said, "but the low point is just being away from your children, your family. My daughters were so young. I relapsed. I left them alone. That was the toughest part."

At home here

Schlichter, also scheduled to appear at the Agonis Club on April 23, has a soft spot for Dayton. Legendary University of Dayton basketball coach Don Donoher recruited him and remains in touch.

Then there was Ritter Collett, the late Dayton Daily News columnist and Journal Herald sports editor who wrote a Schlichter biography titled Straight Arrow.

"I think he took a lot of guff for naming it that," Schlichter said. "But he wrote it from his heart. He was an honest writer."

Together, Collett and Donoher visited Schlichter at an Indiana prison in the late 1990s. They mainly talked about UD basketball.

"I loved the Flyers," Schlichter said. "I used to go to the Donoher Basketball Camp. He started recruiting me in seventh grade. If I hadn't gone to OSU for football, I would have gone to UD and played basketball."

When Collett died in 2001, Schlichter was still in prison.

"My mom told me," he said. "I was sad I wasn't able to attend the funeral. Ritter was a really good man. He always called me 'quarterback.' Those are good memories."

Once upon a time

There was a day, back in the late '70s and early '80s, when you would have bet money on Schlichter's football future.

After playing a year for Woody Hayes, then three for Earle Bruce, he was a can't-miss pro with a rocket arm and nimble feet, the fourth overall pick in the 1982 NFL draft by the Colts.

"He could sit on the ground and throw a football 60 yards, just sitting there," said Fred Zechman, who coached Schlichter at Miami Trace High School and later joined Bruce's OSU staff.

In high school, Schlichter never lost a football game he started, winning 30 straight.

"He was a gambler as a quarterback," Zechman said. "He always thought he could complete every pass, make every play, no matter the situation."

And he was a one-man show on the basketball team that lost to John Paxson's loaded Alter squad in the 1978 state semifinals.

Zechman, retired from coaching and living in Springboro, roots for Schlichter. Zechman did not get a chance to visit Schlichter in prison, but they talk often.

"He was the hardest-working athletic person I've ever been around in 20 years of coaching," Zechman said. "If he applies that effort to staying out of trouble and staying positive, there's no doubt he can beat this addiction."

Schlichter is beginning to get back into football, at least as a fan of his alma mater. He attended two Ohio State games last season and planned to watch spring practice this week after returning from Indianapolis.

"I don't know what (other) involvement I'll have," Schlichter said. "My past is checkered enough that they might keep me at arm's length. I'm not too concerned about that. I'm just glad to be living again."

Contact this reporter at (937) 225-2408 or smcclelland@DaytonDailyNews.com.