Sweetness_ The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton - Jeff Pearlman [54]
In anticipation of the game, Tate worked his players to death. “Coach was determined we needed to be in tip-top shape when we played them,” said Wilkins Raybon, a Lane linebacker. “So that week he ran us and ran us good. He thought he was getting us in top condition, but really he was wearing us down. By the time the game started, we were exhausted.”
Tate warned his players that the Tigers had a running back—“That number thirty-four!”—who wouldn’t succumb to mere arm tackles. What he didn’t know was Payton featured a new weapon that, through the course of his career, would serve as the ultimate equalizer. Midway through the summer, Hill had asked Walter if he was interested in accompanying him on a recruiting trip to Birmingham, Alabama (Hill enjoyed taking his players for long rides). The two settled into the coach’s Cadillac, and as he drove Hill told the story of how he broke loose in his days as a runner at Jackson State. “When I played here, we used to get rolls of athletic tape that came in these big cardboard boxes,” Hill said. “Well, one day a trainer threw out one of the boxes, so I grabbed it, cut it right down the middle, and taped it around my arm. Then I put my jersey over it so nobody would know.” As Hill remembered it, he lined up in the backfield, took a handoff, and started down the sideline. “When a defensive back came up, I just walloped him in the head with the cardboard—POP! It worked like magic, and I didn’t feel pain. From that day on, every time someone tried to tackle me I’d cock my elbow and hit him with a forearm. That became my calling card.”
Hill wasn’t endorsing the procedure, just regaling in yesteryear. The next time Walter came to practice, however, he was wearing a knee pad over his arm. Hill asked Willie Barnes, the team’s trainer, what was going on. “I don’t want my guys having nothing on their arms,” he said. “Did you give him that?” To which Barnes replied, “Yes, but Walter said you told him he could wear it.” Hill laughed, then pulled all the running backs aside. “I have a rule,” he said. “Nothing can be on your arms.” Hill paused. “But Walter is different.”
From that day forward, Payton’s forearm served as a cement block. He raised it, then slammed it down upon an opponent’s head. He used it like a club and gnashed it into an oncoming tackler’s jaw. Whereas defenders once only had to worry about Walter’s speed and toughness, they now had to concern themselves with assault and battery. Thanks to the forearm, Walter would never play victim again. “After games his elbow would be the size of a grapefruit,” said Vernon Perry, the Jackson State safety. “They’d drain the blood out of it every week.”
The Dragons had no idea what they were in for. “They walked into the cafeteria a few hours before the game talking all sorts of junk about what they were going to do to us,” said Milton Webb, Jackson State’s middle linebacker. “We just laughed and said, ‘OK, we’ll see. We’ll see.’ ”
Fearing the Jackson State running game, Tate shifted his best player, Larry “Sleepy” Harris, from cornerback to safety, hoping he could charge the line and bottle up some of the inevitable holes. For the initial few minutes it worked—the Tigers failed to score on their first possession.
The tide quickly turned. With 7:16 remaining in the first quarter, Payton, lined up in the I-formation behind Young, took the handoff from quarterback Jimmy Lewis and charged straight ahead, six yards into the end zone. A handful of maroon-and-blue-clad Dragon players were sprawled across the field. “Rickey Young blocked one of our guys so hard, he knocked his front teeth out,” said Franklin. “Man, those guys were bad dudes.”
The Tigers scored on their next possession, with Lewis hitting receiver