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Thursday, November 26, 1998
Ricky Williams closes in on Tony Dorsett
By CHUCK FINDER
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
History first witnessed Future on Sept. 16, 1995, mostly by
accident. Tony Dorsett came to the University of Texas' Memorial
Stadium that afternoon to watch his son, Anthony, play for Pitt.
He was picked up at the Austin airport by then Texas running backs
coach Michael "Bucky" Godbolt, Dorsett's former opponent
back in the 1970s when Godbolt's Boston College Eagles played
Dorsett's Pitt Panthers.
The 1976 Heisman Trophy winner and all-time NCAA I-A rushing
king planted himself along the Pitt sideline and saw his son make
four tackles, including one against a nifty freshman fullback
named Ricky Williams.
The soon-to-be 1998 Heisman Trophy winner.
The soon-to-be king.
"He came to see his son play," Godbolt marveled at
the irony, "and he wound up watching Ricky."
Errick Lynne Williams needs 63 yards Friday against Texas A&M
to surpass Anthony Drew Dorsett and his 6,082 yards, the rushing
record that few anywhere, let alone Pittsburgh, figured would
ever be broken. But this, after all, has been a sporting year
to rewrite records. Sixty-three yards is slightly less than a
half for the Texas tailback this season.
"They may get rid of that baby in the first quarter,"
said Godbolt, the coach who recruited Williams, the man who parents
him and the agent who represents the summertime Philadelphia Phillies
minor leaguer. "Aw, I want to see him get 2,000 yards."
Dorsett wants to see it, too. He wants to see his record become,
well, history.
So he plans to attend the Texas-Texas A&M bloodletting
Friday in Austin.
"It's going to mean a lot," Williams said. "If
I'm fortunate enough to break his record, I want him to be there
to see it."
Fortunate enough? Does Williams doubt destiny? Does he foresee
himself falling a yard or two short of the mark?
"That," he said, "won't happen."
History and Future were on the telephone together the other
day. Though they met last January at the Doak Walker Award banquet
in Dallas - which in itself is one of the many Texas tales of
Williams - Dorsett and Williams hadn't spoken again until last
week. They were gathered for a Fox Sports Online program with
host Pat Summerall.
Dorsett: "Hey, Ricky, how are you?"
Williams: "Good."
Summerall: "Tony, as you see him getting closer to your
record, do you hope he does it? Do you wish him well, or do you
hope to see your name remain where it is?"
Dorsett: "The record has stood for 20-something years;
it really doesn't concern me too much anymore. I'm happy for Ricky
and all he stands for. All the things he's done, all the decisions
he's made - to stay in school (for his senior year), when it's
very easy for kids to come out today for millions of dollars.
The thing he's done to help his sisters with their college education.
The way he's honored Doak Walker. You can't help but wish good
things for Ricky. I tell you, last year we were at the Doak Walker
Awards and I said, 'Ricky, I hope you come just one yard short.'
But now it looks like he'll be 100 yards more. I wish him all
the best and, as a matter of fact, I'm planning on going down
to Texas to give him my best and all my support."
Summerall: "How does that make you feel, Ricky?"
Williams: "I'm flabbergasted."
The Texas tales of Ricky Williams are amazing indeed, especially
if they can be recited by the very man he chases into college
football immortality.
At age 6, Sandy Williams' only son became the man of the house.
They lived in San Diego, the mother who worked and went to night
school, twins Cassie and Ricky (he calls her his "wombmate")
and baby sister Nisey. The little boy made macaroni and cheese
and did the wash and watched over his sisters until mom came home.
The Four Musketeers, they billed themselves. But there were times
when the boy among all those women lashed out, needed a father.
Until junior high, he underwent counseling to curb his anger.
He was named for his father, Errick Sr., who divorced Sandy
in 1983 amid her suspicions that he abused their children. Eight
months later, according to Sports Illustrated, he was convicted
on a misdemeanor charge of annoying or molesting children.
The son, playing in Austin, and the father, living and working
in Austin, have struck up an acquaintance anew. Errick Jr. maintains
he will set up a trust fund, with his soon-to-be-realized NFL
wealth, for the four children of his father's second family. The
former 6-year-old man of the house has grown into quite a father
figure.
Once he is done with the Longhorns next Friday and in a bowl
game, once he is done playing tailback for the Cleveland Browns
or Carolina Panthers or whoever, and then maybe even done playing
outfield for the Phillies, Ricky Williams wants to teach elementary-school
kids. As his mother told a Cleveland reporter earlier this month,
"So what if he's a millionaire and wants to teach school?"
He is such a family man that he spent his $50,000 signing bonus
from the Phillies, after being an eighth-round choice in 1995,
to move his mother to Austin and pay for his sisters' Texas tuition.
On the Longhorns, he's basically a walk-on, because the Phillies
pay his tuition as part of his contract. Imagine that, a walk-on
winning the Heisman.
He is such a nice guy that a little old lady named Edith he
once helped in the grocery store turned out to be the wife of
Darrell Royal, the longtime Longhorns coach.
He is such a dashing figure that Austin shops sell a T-shirt
bearing the likeness of the Heisman Trophy with Williams' trademark,
Bob Marley-loving dreadlocks. (OK, so there's a stud in his tongue
and his ears have been pierced half his lifetime, not to mention
the four tattoos, but that's more a result of independence from
being a latch-key kid/father than California non-conformity. When
he came home with Mickey Mouse on his left bicep, he told his
mother that, yes, he had thought about being a 40-something businessman
with a suit and a tattoo of a cartoon rodent.)
He is such a talented outfielder that baseball scouts hold
up St. Louis' Brian Jordan as a comparison. Williams holds up
Bo Jackson or Deion Sanders because he'd like to try both sports
at once - although he has yet to rise above Class A baseball in
three football-abbreviated summers.
He is such a selfless individual that he agrees with the majority
of the Big 12 coaches, that Kansas State quarterback Michael Bishop
should be voted the conference player of the year over him. "I've
met him, he's an extremely nice guy. I'd be happy for him,"
Williams said. "I don't see why he wouldn't be the player
of the year in the Big 12. They're probably the best team in the
country."
He is such an unpredictable fellow that he signed his NFL draft
forms and put them in a lawyer's hands before he thought otherwise
and announced last spring that he was staying in school.
He is such a complex young man that, after being moved by Doak
Walker's autobiography, he began a letter-and-fax correspondence
which buoyed the legend who was paralyzed in a skiing accident
10 days after presenting Williams his award and died eight months
later, on Sept. 27. The widow of the 71-year-old Walker later
told a Texas assistant athletic director, "You have no idea
what that young man means to my family."
Two weeks after Walker's death, Williams petitioned the NCAA
and honored the late Southern Methodist star by wearing his No.
37 against Oklahoma in Dallas' Cotton Bowl - "the House that
Doak Built." He rushed for 139 yards and two touchdowns that
day, another getting nullified by penalty. After each touchdown,
he pointed both index fingers to the heavens and uttered softly,
"This is for you, Doak." After the game, he gave the
game ball and his jersey to eight members of the Walker family,
all the while apologizing for the shirt's blood stains.
He is such a role model that, of all the things he autographed,
his most memorable remains a sonogram.
The new mother was going to name her son Ricky.
"He's everything people make him out to be," Godbolt
said, "and more."
Johnny Majors walked the Pitt sideline. A Dorsett patrolled
the artificial turf. Generations were crossed that Texas afternoon
in 1995, a 38-27 Longhorns victory.
"Yeah, I remember him," Majors said of Williams.
"Remember his name. Remember him being highly publicized
as a recruit. He didn't dominate the game, but the tailback did.
... That day, (Williams) didn't make an impact on me."
Shon Mitchell was the tailback. The fullback was No. 11, the
burly freshman from San Diego's Patrick Henry High, the guy who
gained 4,129 yards in his prep career and the unending recruiting
ardor of Texas' running backs coach. Godbolt's recruit had rushed
for 95 yards the week before in breaking the Texas freshman record
set 21 years prior against Boston College and, yes, Godbolt. Against
Majors and Pitt in his second Texas game, though, Williams rumbled
14 times for 66 yards and a touchdown, and caught four passes
for 67 more yards. Cornerback Anthony Dorsett tackled him once.
"I remember playing against him. He was pretty good,"
recalled Dorsett the younger, who now plays for the Tennessee
Oilers. "I never knew he'd turn out to be the back he is
today."
Who really did?
These may be the most startling factoids of this entire record
run:
Williams played fullback his freshman and sophomore Texas seasons.
Williams gained as many as 100 yards only three times his freshman
season.
Williams had as many as 20 carries only a half-dozen times
through his first 28 games, as many as 30 carries only three times
through his first three seasons.
Contrast that to Dorsett the elder, who carried 26 times for
101 yards in his Panthers debut against Georgia 22 years and one
day before that 1995 Texas-Pitt game, and maintained a consistent
pace his entire four years as the featured tailback. He seldom
had fewer than 20 carries a game. He gained fewer than 100 yards
half as many times as Williams.
Put them on an even level, using Williams' past two seasons
at tailback, and the Texas legend wins the rushing race. He owns
3,798 yards on 596 carries to Dorsett's 3,492 on 593 carries his
junior and senior Pitt years.
Moreover, Williams became the only other back in NCAA history
to top 6,000 career yards, but on nearly 100 fewer carries than
Dorsett.
Among the other NCAA records Williams still pursues:
-- Two-hundred sixty-two yards rushing and receiving to surpass
the 6,911 all-purpose career yardage gained by Napolean McCallum
at Navy, 1981-85.
-- One touchdown to surpass the two-year mark of 53 set by
Sanders' in 1987-88 at Oklahoma State.
-- Sixty-three yards to Dorsett.
Comparisons?
Carl Reese, the Texas defensive coordinator who was the linebackers
coach at Kansas in 1975, when Dorsett bolted for 142 yards against
his Jayhawks in the Sun Bowl: "Ricky is a different back.
He's a big, strong guy. I mean, he's a bruiser. He runs like an
old fullback at times. He doesn't look like he's got that many
yards. Then, come the fourth quarter, you look at the stats, and
he's got 300 yards. Dorsett was like that. I remember going to
a luncheon at the Sun Bowl - you could tell who Tony Dorsett was
by the way he carried himself; he had a special air. Our guy is
the same way. Both guys, they had special qualities, the kind
you see only once or twice a career."
Majors: "No way could I compare him to Dorsett, because
Dorsett's the greatest back I've ever seen. I don't want to take
anything away from what Williams has done. But Tony was the greatest
football player I've seen over four years. Nobody could stop and
start as quick as he could. And the longer the game went, the
better he got. He was one of the greatest competitors who ever
lived."
Godbolt: "Tony, he'd just make you totally, totally miss.
He made a fool out of you. Ricky can do that, but he'll dip his
shoulder and totally annihilate. The fourth quarter, you were
worried about getting Tony because you were so tired. With Ricky,
you worry about him running you smooth over when you're tired
and he's not. They're ... just so totally different."
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service.)
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