Sweetness_ The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton - Jeff Pearlman [44]
Walter Payton knew of Hill’s hotheaded reputation, and because of it had mixed feelings about coming to Jackson State. During recruiting, however, Hill had offered Walter one glowing compliment after another. “Bob Hill was an absolute con artist,” said Doug Shanks, Jackson’s former city commissioner and a diehard Tigers booster. “Those kids didn’t go to school. They practiced eight, ten hours every day. But Hill knew how to deal with them, and somehow make them feel special.”
In the weeks leading up to his debut as a college head coach, Hill was, by all accounts, a lunatic. “As soon as he hit the football field for practice, it was clear he was crazy—stone crazy,” said Matthew Norman, a sophomore defensive back. “He was very do or die. He would foam at the mouth, drool from the mouth, growl. Off the field, Bob was a normal man. But the football field was his sacred ground. He was all about blood.” The players bestowed upon Hill the nickname “Thirst”—for bloodthirsty.
The first two weeks of September were brutally hot, with temperatures reaching the mid-nineties with oppressive humidity. Hill denied his players water throughout the ceaseless twice-a-day workouts. Replenishment, he believed, was for the soft, and Jackson State would be as hard as steel. “Players were falling down, dying from the heat,” recalled Joe Bingham, an offensive guard, “and he’d kick them while screaming, ‘Die! Die! Die!’ He’d say, ‘If you die, I’ll roll you over with the sled.’ ”
It took Hill mere days to establish himself as a cruel, unforgiving taskmaster. “If someone did something wrong, Bob would tell him he was going to break his plate,” recalled Norman. “Which meant he was going to take your meal card from you, and you could no longer eat on campus.” It also took Hill mere days to develop a further appreciation for his freshman back. Eddie Payton was the team’s top returning rusher, having totaled 339 yards in 1970. He was fast, quick, tough, resilient. Walter, though, was better.
“Eddie was real good, but we’re talking about different types,” said Curtis Jones, a defensive back. “Eddie was good between the tackles, but Walter was good between the tackles and outside the tackles. Eddie could catch but Walter could catch better.” Eddie had earned the nickname of “Monk” for his monkey-like dexterity, and before long teammates were calling Walter “L’il Monk.” On one of the first days of full-roster workouts, a sophomore fullback named Tom Holloway was casually standing a few yards off of the goal line, fielding kickoffs in shorts and a T-shirt. As a ball approached, Holloway extended his arms, reached out his hands, then—whoosh! Out of nowhere, a blur bumped into Holloway, grabbed the ball, and ran. “I said, ‘Who the hell is this guy?’ ” said Holloway. Payton jogged back toward Holloway, guffawing loudly. “I just wanted to see if I could catch it,” he said. “My name’s Walter—Walter Payton.” Holloway wasn’t amused. “OK, Walter Payton,” he replied. “But freshmen don’t do that.”
“From day one he stood out,” said Rodney Phillips, a Tiger quarterback. “He was in the best shape of anyone on the team. In practice, Walter was just running all over the place. The determination and desire was remarkable. And man, the things he could do! He could run the ball, obviously. But he could also pass the ball, kick the ball, catch the ball.”
When he recruited Payton, Hill knew the youngster possessed skills as a runner and receiver. But here he was in practice, blowing everyone away. “The goal of the linemen was to bench press three hundred pounds,” said Bingham. “Walter was the one little guy who could lift with us. It was amazing.” Walter could be found throwing fifty-yard spirals and booting straighttoe thirty-five-yard field goals. If nothing else, Hill had a potential solution to his program’s longstanding place-kicking problems. Lee Triplett remained the starting kicker, but his leash was a short one. “Walter had a leg as strong as any I’d seen,” Hill said. “It’s easier naming things Walter can’t do than things