Remembering Kevin Williams

Before I ever saw him, I had tremendous respect for Kevin Williams. His grace, speed and nose for the end zone were already legendary.

We were scheduled to play the Trojans on Saturday, and our coaches were worried about being beaten by the one-man gang they called “the most dangerous ball carrier ever born.” He ran like a gazelle. Had better moves than Tina Turner.

Our kickoff and punt teams were reminded he averaged better than two kick returns for touchdowns per game. Our defense was told he had the moves to run around you, but that he’d just as soon run through you. Everybody knew he was headed for the NFL.

That was 1969. Kevin Williams was 11 and the star running back of the East Valley Trojans Pop Warner football team. I played middle linebacker for their arch rival, the Valley Chargers. I was also the place kicker.

Under strict orders to keep the ball away from Kevin, I squibbed the opening kickoff up the middle. He got his hands on it anyway and before I knew it, I was the last man standing between Williams and the goal line. I met him head-on, put my helmet in his numbers and felt him drive me backward. It was like I’d stepped in front of a train. I brought him down, but the collision knocked the wind out of me.

“Hey, this guy’s hurt,” Kevin shouted and waved to the referee. Then he leaned over me and whispered, “Sorry man . . . nice tackle.” I’ve often reflected on the strange combination of pain and pride I felt in that moment. The memory always reminds me that Kevin Williams was a wonderful athlete and a rare individual. He’ll be missed, but never forgotten.

MICHAEL S. HILL

Winnetka