Walter & Me (9 page)

Falks was so persuasive that he actually talked my parents into letting him stay at their house to recruit Walter. Falks pretty much moved in for days and harassed Momma, Daddy, and Walter, trying to get my little brother to sign with Kansas State. Falks decided he’d just camp out and keep all the other predators away from Camp Payton until Walter was signed, sealed, and delivered. The suitcase full of money that Kansas State was throwing around only added to the pressure.

The counselor for Columbia High and Coach Boston found out through the grapevine (I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Reverend Hendricks who spilled the beans) that Falks was holed up in the house with Walter, and they weren’t happy about that at all. They went to the house and had themselves a little sit-down with Falks and told him that if he didn’t leave, they were going to contact someone with the NCAA and report him for illegal recruiting. After that, Falks left the house so fast that someone might have thought
he
was the Kansas Comet. The only problem was, though he left without his suitcase of money, he managed to walk away with Walter’s signature. Their lies, their pressure, and their throwing around of money had all added up to a signed letter of intent for Walter to play at Kansas State. And that was that, right? Wrong.

I’ll never forget the day Walter was supposed to report to Kansas State. He’d taken the long bus ride from Columbia to Jackson and then later was planning on flying to Manhattan, Kansas. There was a long layover for him in Jackson. With time to kill, Walter decided to come to the Jackson State campus to hang out with me. I’m sure glad he did.

When I saw him, I could tell something was up, but I didn’t even have to ask. He came right out with it, like he’d been holding it in his whole life and just couldn’t anymore. “Man, I don’t really want to go to Kansas,” he said to me as if it was not his decision to make. I think he truly thought it wasn’t.

When he told me he didn’t want to go to Kansas, I jumped all over it. It was music to my ears, and I offered a simple solution. “Well, don’t go,” I said. “Leave your stuff here, we’ll work it out.”

Walter seemed worried. “I don’t know if I can do that. Not sure how it all works, and I think there was some money involved or something like that.”

Money?
They tried to buy my little bro?
“Let’s go talk to Coach Hill,” I said, with a big ol’ grin on my face. I knew there had to be some way out of it for Walter, and I was sure Coach Hill would know what to do. Walter agreed we should see him, so we quickly went to his Jackson State office. We walked through the door and you can imagine what he thought when he saw my brother walk through with me. Let’s just say he was happy to see us.

I started in right away with the most important part of what we had to say. “Coach, Walter don’t want to go to Kansas. He wants to stay here and play at Jackson State with us, but he signed something with Kansas State. And there may have been some money involved somewhere.” Coach Hill jumped out of his chair like he’d sat on a porcupine and then promptly shuffled on around his desk like he actually was one of those pointy little creatures. He wanted to be face to face with Walter for this.

“You want to come to Jackson State, son?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I do,” Walter replied.

“Okay, then, let’s go up to Dr. Peoples’ office. He’s our president, you know, and if anybody can fix this, it’s him.” Coach Hill ushered us through the maze of buildings on the Jackson State campus and eventually to Dr. Peoples’ office. Dr. Peoples was mighty happy to see us, too.

“Dr. Peoples,” Coach started, “this boy here, Walter, he don’t want to go to Kansas State. He wants to play here. We recruited him fairly, and I didn’t come to him or nothing. He came to me. And we’re not bound by Kansas State’s letter of intent anyway, because we’re a different division. He just don’t want to go. What do you think?”

“Well, I reckon the boy ought to play where he wants to play,” Dr. Peoples said, in a “that’s just how it is” sort of way. They talked a little about the alleged money Kansas State was flashin’, and a plan was hatched.

Dr. Peoples went into action and got the athletic director at Kansas State on the phone. I figured that the AD said “hello” on the other end of that phone, but all I heard was what Dr. Peoples said. “I have a young man here in my office, Walter Payton, and he has decided he wants to stay at home and play football with his brother here at Jackson State,” he explained in his signature calm, but firm voice. “We haven’t tampered with him or changed his mind for him or anything like that. He came to us out of his own free will, and we’d like to have a release from you as a courtesy.”

Both sides knew Jackson State wasn’t obligated under NCAA rules to honor the Kansas State letter of intent that Walter had signed. Jackson State was a Division II school at that time and had a set of rules and regulations separate from Division I schools like Kansas State. Still, Dr. Peoples wanted to handle the matter in the right way by asking for a release, so he gave them that chance. They didn’t take it.

What the Kansas State athletic director took was a hard line. He was none too happy about being asked to release their prize recruit. I could now hear him on the other end of the phone because he was barking. “No! We signed this kid, we recruited him, we have plans for him, and we want him here at Kansas State. We’re not willing to release him. He made a commitment, and we’re expecting him here tonight. Understand?”

Dr. Peoples was expecting a response like that, but he was willing to give them one more chance. “That’s fine,” Dr. Peoples deadpanned. “We understand and respect your decision. We’ll send Walter on his way. And oh, one more thing…would you like us to mail your money back or just go ahead and send it up there with Mr. Payton in the suitcase it came in?”

There was silence. Beautiful silence.

“Hold on a second,” the AD finally said. More silence. Even more beautiful than before. Several minutes passed before the AD returned to the line. He wasn’t barking anymore. “You know, we reconsidered. We’re not going to force anybody to come to Kansas State who doesn’t really want to be here. If Mr. Payton wants to stay down there and he’ll be happy, well, then that’s what we want, too. We’re going to let him go.”

“Well, okay then. We appreciate you working with us,” Dr. Peoples concluded. He hung up the phone, and that was that. Walter was coming to Jackson State. I guess you can add Sweetness to the list of things money can’t buy.

Some say Walter’s decision to come to Jackson State was the best decision of his life. That’s debatable, but I’d say it was certainly the best decision of his life that he almost didn’t make. At the time, I wasn’t even thinking about all that. I didn’t know what the future would hold and didn’t really care, I guess. I was just thrilled that on that day, I found out Walter would be coming to play with me. We’d finally be on the field together. Oh yeah, and we’d both be getting a college education, too. I just had no idea what sort of education the world was about to get. Neither did the world, but we were all getting ready to find out. Recess was over.

6. Keepin’ It Real

Feathers had surely been ruffled at Kansas State when Walter didn’t show up, but there was nothing they could do. Someone over there even tried to play chicken with Coach Hill after the fact, threatening to call the NCAA to report Jackson State’s “kidnapping” of Walter, but none of that mattered. The rooster they wanted was still coming home, not to roost, but to give Jackson State a boost. And that meant Payton & Payton was back. Only this time we weren’t just bringin “bad-ass grass with style and class.” No, sir. We were just going to be bad-ass on the grass—style and class were optional.

It truly was Payton & Payton again there in Jackson. I know y’all are reading this book through the “Walter was a superstar” lens, but it wasn’t just going to be about Walter right away at Jackson State. In fact, it wasn’t even going to be about Walter and me, despite all my Payton & Payton talk. It was going to be about Jackson State. It was going to be about
team
. They weren’t signing up for The Walter Payton Show. They wanted to win, and he was going to help them win, but it wasn’t going to be all about Walter when he came to town. There was no parade or nothing like that. No one laid down palm leaves for him. In fact, though Jackson State recruited him and wanted him in a bad way, Walter enrolled with little fanfare or celebration of any kind. At least not from the football team. My baby brother was still a baby in our eyes. He was no longer a hotshot recruit who needed pursuit. He was now just another member of the football team, and he’d now have to be the one in pursuit—of playing time, just like the rest of us. And you know, he didn’t really take to that whole “pursuit of playing time” thing at first.

After about two weeks of two-a-days to start out his college career, Walter decided Coach Hill had to be a little crazy. Now, those two-a-days upon arrival were akin to visiting the slums for your honeymoon. Having already gone through them myself, I knew exactly what Walter was feeling. Compared to Coach Boston, Coach Hill actually
was
crazy. Okay, maybe that’s being a little too hard, but calling Coach Hill a mere disciplinarian would be far too soft. That man didn’t pull punches. Coach was a hard-ass guy who was demanding, punishing, and humiliating. He was kind of like the Army, in fact. You might show up a boy, but you’re leaving a man. Nonetheless, Walter decided early on he wasn’t going to take any more of Coach Hill’s military-style bullshit. My brother packed his stuff, left it all in the room so he could come get it later, and he walked to the bus station to catch a Greyhound out of there.

By the time Coach Hill found out about that, Walter was already halfway to Columbia. My brother had gone AWOL, and Coach went after him like the meanest drill sergeant you’ve ever seen. He was extremely upset, even a little like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth. He was spittin’ and fittin’, and he came looking for the closest thing he could find to Walter, which was me. He grabbed me by the arm and said, “Let’s go!” I had no choice but to follow his orders, so we drove on down to Columbia together.

In the car, Coach Hill kept shaking his head and saying, “I can’t believe Walter left, just up and left.” Over and over and over…and over. It was only interrupted occasionally by the hurling of blame in my direction. He asked me why I hadn’t been watching after Walter. If I hadn’t been able to see the big picture and known better, I might have thought my main role on the team was to keep Walter with us. That wasn’t my main role, of course, but it sure felt like it on that night.

We finally arrived at my parents’ house in Columbia, and Coach just parked the car, left the keys in it, jumped out, and headed toward the house. He couldn’t get inside fast enough. Coach didn’t want to talk to Walter, though. He wanted to talk to Momma and Daddy. And boy did he talk. Coach just sat in the living room and rambled on and on and on, really putting on a show for my folks. He talked about what he and Jackson State were going to be able to do for Walter and how he wanted Walter back with no questions asked. It was like he was recruiting Walter all over again. He just couldn’t say enough nice things about Walter and what great character he had and all that mess. He even mentioned how he thought Walter had “surely” gotten his great character from his parents. I couldn’t believe it. I just sat there without so much as a peep, but I’m sure I rolled my eyes.

Walter must not have liked it either, because he rolled right on out of the house. As Coach continued laying it on thick, oblivious to anything else going on around him, I noticed Walter tiptoeing out of his room and then sneaking through the kitchen door. I thought he was just annoyed and was going to walk around the neighborhood or something, but he had other plans. That kid got out there and hopped right into Coach Hill’s car. But that wasn’t all. He started Coach Hill’s car and drove off! You can say what you want about Walter, but you can’t say he didn’t have balls. And on that night, you couldn’t say he didn’t have wheels, either.

Now, it would’ve been bad enough for Walter to just drive around town for a bit, but he wasn’t done. Get this—he drove Coach Hill’s car the 90 minutes from Columbia back to Jackson, loaded all of his stuff into the car, and then drove back to Columbia. The funniest part is that he got home and unpacked his stuff before Coach Hill even finished talking with my parents. No joke. And you know, I’m not sure what’s more impressive: Walter driving roughly 180 miles in two and a half hours, or Coach keeping up his snow job on my parents for the same amount of time.

Coach sure did shovel a helluva lot of snow on my folks, because Daddy was convinced. And let me tell you, when Daddy was convinced of something, we kids were usually convinced of it, too. That was true whether we were truly convinced or not, if you know what I mean. After the talk with Coach Hill, Daddy found Walter and said, “Listen, Coach Hill’s going to help you, okay? And I gave him my word—just like I gave my word about Eddie—that you’d be there to play ball and do the right thing. Now, you go back up there and you stay this time.” Though Walter obviously didn’t want to go back, he listened to Daddy and did what he said. He was now bigger and stronger than Daddy, but Walter still knew who his daddy was. My brother went back to Jackson State…again. I don’t think anyone said a word on our drive back. Though if Coach would’ve looked down at his odometer, maybe some words would’ve been said then.

Daddy made the decision for Walter to return to campus, but Daddy couldn’t be there with him. Seeing Walter through the tough transition to college sports, well, that was my job. I had to step up and teach him how things worked. I had to be his friend and mentor. Walter needed his big brother.

I began by teaching Walter how to block and how to set up blocks, and he was a very good listener. He took it all in. I was just passing down the blocking technique I’d learned from Coach Hill, which was basically how to set people up, how to get to them before they even got started, and how to attack an opponent at his most vulnerable spot. I filled Walter in on how most big guys seem to worry about their shins, not their knees. I told him if you hit those guys on the shins, you don’t have to worry about them anymore. “If you make it look like you’re going for the shins,” I offered, “they’ll just stop and go down.”

During games, well, I kind of had to go with the flow a bit. If Walter got tackled for a loss, or if he fumbled, we’d go over to the sideline together and just sit and talk it out. I’d try to get Walter to see what he could’ve done differently to turn that loss into a gain or to hold onto the ball. Lost yardage and lost fumbles were two things that could get you on Coach Hill’s bad side, so I wanted Walter to minimize all that. I also let Walter know about two things he could do to get on Coach’s good side: shut up and score.

We were playing Grambling at our stadium on a Thursday night, and it was on TV. Grambling had their own TV network, and they were covering the matchup. Some of our players must’ve been nervous about that or something because we didn’t play too well in the first half. Coach Hill was definitely coaching a good ballgame, though, because the game was still close. At halftime, the score was Grambling 7 and Jackson State 0. It was really all Coach Hill that first half, scheming and keeping us close. He always brought his best against Grambling’s legendary coach, Eddie Robinson. In my opinion, Coach Hill and Coach Robinson were two of the best head coaches anywhere, black or white, north or south, or however you sliced it up. So, it was always a good matchup. Still, Coach Hill wasn’t patting himself on the back at halftime for keeping it close, and he certainly wasn’t praising his players.

A score of 7–0, bad guys, will always leave the coach of the good guys wanting more. When the coach is Coach Hill, it’ll leave him wanting someone’s head on a platter. He was ranting and raving on an elite level, really laying into us. It was one of those times at half where we all kept our helmets on. We knew it was coming. You see, Coach Hill had this reputation of being a bit of a hothead in certain situations. If we were down at half, he’d likely be throwing things, kicking chairs, punching walls, just pitchin’ an overall fit. It could get pretty dangerous in there, so we’d just keep our helmets on. Oh, and we’d keep our eyes on the ground. No eye contact. We never dared look at him while he was in the middle of one of his episodes. We all knew that if we looked at him, he’d take it about as well as a crazed dog might. That’s to say, not well at all.

We were sitting still and bracing for impact while he was screaming some mess about lying down out there and ankle tackling, basically playing like a bunch of wimps. Then he goes, “Guys, if you don’t play a better second half, I’m gonna kick your ass in person, okay? I mean, I’m gonna kick your ass personally. I don’t care who you are, who you know, or who knows you.”

Walter and I were sitting together, and the next thing you know, Coach Hill walked over close to us and threw his clipboard against the wall. Walter hadn’t fully learned the ways of Coach Hill yet, I guess, because he responded to that with a “What?” I don’t know if he was just startled and that came out or if he was taking the “I’m gonna kick your ass” comment a little too personally. It didn’t really matter; I knew I had to stop him from saying anything else. I was sitting down with my helmet-protected head pointed straight to the floor and whispered out the side of the mouth toward my little brother, “
Shut up
!
” There was no telling for sure, but with Coach so close to us and throwing his clipboard against the wall right by our heads, there was a pretty good chance he was talking to and about Walter and me the whole time. I didn’t want Walter pushing him, and despite the whisper, Walter heard me loud and clear. He didn’t say another word. So, now that we had both mastered the art of shutting up in the middle of a Coach Hill tirade, we were ready to do the second thing that will get you on Coach Hill’s good side. It was time to score.

We went back out for the second half and scored 13 unanswered points, winning the game 13–7. Walter and I scored every one of those points. I had our only touchdown of the second half, and Walter kicked the extra point and made two field goals, too. Yep, that’s what I said. Walter scored seven points in that second half, not as a tackle-shedding runner, but as the kicker. And I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.
What?!

Try to keep up with me for a second. Despite all the stuff he did in high school carrying the ball, Walter didn’t come to Jackson State and just take over as our running back. We had some pretty good running backs before he got there, if I do say so myself, so he wasn’t needed right away. He came in as a kicker. And I know exactly what you’re thinking right now, too.
Yeah, but he was Walter Payton, so he was at least the starting kicker, right?
Well, no. He was the backup kicker, and then he was the starting kicker, and then he was my backup running back, and then he was the starting running back alongside me. Okay, okay, I know, it’s all terribly confusing. Here’s how it happened…

During Walter’s freshman year, we lost our first game to Prairie View on the road. Only two freshmen made that trip, Walter and a guy named Jimmy Lewis. Jimmy was a backup quarterback out of Jackson. Walter came to that game as the backup kicker. We had a lot of penalties that night and had a couple of touchdowns called back, so there was a lot of blame to go around for the loss. But the thing is, we lost the game 13–12, so what really stood out to the coaches was the fact that our starting kicker missed two extra points. Those two points would have given us 14 points and the win. Unforgivable. And so, just like that, Walter became the starting kicker. He didn’t take it lightly, either. He even had a square-toed shoe that he used when he kicked. Of course, his stint as the Jackson State starting kicker lasted about as long as the short distance of those two extra point attempts that the other guy missed. He’d soon move to another spot. His number was about to be called at his natural position.

Jackson State’s record in 1971: 9 wins, 1 loss, and 1 tie. Walter missed a field goal in the one game we tied, which was against Texas Southern down at their place. After he missed that field goal, he suffered the same fate as the other guy. The coaches were upset (naturally) and decided to once again make a change at kicker. Somebody else started kicking field goals, and they put Walter in the backfield full-time. Maybe they thought they were making a good move by removing him as kicker, but as it turned out, the fact that it moved him to the backfield made it the best move they ever made. And I was excited. It was finally going to be Walter and me in the same backfield. Now, everyone would know what Payton & Payton was all about. At some point, anyway. Some time soon. Eventually. Not right away, though.

A little time had to pass before Walter and I would get a chance to take the field together. When they moved Walter to the backfield, he was serving as my backup. A kid named John Ely and I were the starters. But come on, you know it was only going to be a matter of time before Walter took one of the starting spots, right? Well, I bet you didn’t know that it was John Ely and not Walter who made it happen.