Little Hardy’s Big Loss

Hardy Nickerson, linebacker and defensive team leader for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, will run onto the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field today against the Green Bay Packers, the defending Super Bowl champions, focused on pulling off the upset of the season.

And while his teammates steal a peak at Titletown USA’s legendary centerpiece with a watchful eye for the ghost of Vince Lombardi, the clear picture of a dreamy football field far away in Compton will overwhelm an already emotionally charged Nickerson.

And no matter how hard he fights it, and what a struggle it has been in recent weeks, he will look up into the stands for his father, “Big Hardy,” as he has always done, the familiar pang in his gut increasing in intensity, reminding him again that his search will not be successful.

“I can’t help myself looking around, because whenever I looked around, he was always there,” he says, pausing to regain his composure.

“Whether it was the practice field in high school--there’s my dad--or the parking lot and sitting by the fence waiting for me to get done--there’s my dad--or warming up for a football game and looking up into the stands--there’s my dad. And he’s not there any longer. . . .”

On one of the best days of his life--last Sunday in Tampa after a playoff victory over the Detroit Lions--a happy Hardy Nickerson emerged from the chaotic celebration on the field with both arms raised, suddenly saddened by his inability to share such a glorious triumph.

“You know, growing up, all I wanted to do was make my dad proud because of how hard he worked,” he says. “I had the very best role model and I wanted him to see the impact he had on my life. . . . That’s why I dedicated this year to him.”

What a year it has been: The Buccaneers advanced to the playoffs for the first time since 1982, won a playoff game for the first time since 1979 and at the heart of such success, Hardy Nickerson was not only selected to play in the Pro Bowl, but was the NFL’s all-pro middle linebacker.

But it was a year to remember that began with mini-camp in May, and on Day 1, news that Hardy Nickerson’s father had suffered a stroke in California.

“The stroke left him comatose and paralyzed and he couldn’t swallow,” said Nickerson, known as “Little Hardy” to his family.

“When I walked into the hospital room, took his hand and hugged him, it was like he immediately knew I was there. He started breathing real heavy, clutched my hand and wouldn’t let it go. I told him, ‘Thank you, you’ve been a great dad. Thank you.’ That’s all I had to tell him.

“He knew how much I loved him, but it was very important for me to be there and him to know that I was there when he took his last breath.”

“Big Hardy” and JoAnn Nickerson raised three children--”Little Hardy” and two girls--in Compton, in the same house that JoAnn lives in today. “Big Hardy” worked six days a week as a cook for several Los Angeles County probation camps, while JoAnn worked as an L.A. County telephone operator, a 24-hour shift every Friday, all part of the overtime they each put in to pay the tuition to send their son to Verbum Dei High.

“We wanted him to have the best that we could get for him,” JoAnn says. “That might not seem like a lot to some people, but we wanted him to get the education he needed to succeed. Playing ball at that time was just something to keep him busy; we didn’t know it was a gift he had.

“I miss my husband a whole lot because he was a real encourager, and that’s what he did with Little Hardy. I remember one of Little Hardy’s camp coaches saying he had a great heart but didn’t have the body to go on and play football, and that upset me so much, but my husband said not to worry. And he began making these wheat germ shakes and having Little Hardy drink them every day to put on weight.”

Little Hardy grew up to be 6 feet 2, 233 pounds, a center and linebacker for Verbum Dei who won a scholarship to the University of California before being drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers and then becoming a free agent and signing with the Buccaneers.

“I remember my husband taking Little Hardy with him to work at the probation camps on holidays to see how some kids turn out--locked up at Christmas,” JoAnn says. “The two of them were real close; my husband would drive 50 miles from work to see his games. I gave it up, but he’d be there in the pouring rain.

“I know Little Hardy has got to work his way through this. He’s at the pinnacle of his career and he wants to share it with his daddy. He just wants his dad, and it’s not possible. I try to keep him encouraged. Daddy left us and it wasn’t his choice or our choice, but it was his time. He was so proud of Hardy, and whatever Little Hardy brought him, he’d wear, because that was his son out there.”

When word came last month that Hardy Nickerson had been selected to the Pro Bowl, it was an emotional hammer that left him drained.

“When I was selected to play in my first Pro Bowl, I called my daddy and he was so proud of me,” he says, the fierce competitor making no apologies for the tears. “They came to Hawaii to see me play and I remember him getting off the plane and the smile on his face and . . .”

This time when he made the Pro Bowl, he says, he wanted so badly to call his father one more time.

“He called me from the dressing room after being named to the Pro Bowl,” JoAnn says, “and I know that hurt him because he couldn’t say, ‘Daddy, I made the Pro Bowl.’ But that’s life, and his daddy gave him all he could, and he did all he could for his daddy.”

Tackling the opposition with a fervor that has drawn nationwide attention via postseason honors, Hardy Nickerson set out this season to let everyone know how fortunate he was to have the role model he had in “Big Hardy.” At the same time, quietly off the field he has established Hardy’s Huddle, a charitable foundation that provides tuition assistance to children with learning disabilities or behavioral disorders.

“Everything anyone sees in me today can be credited to my mom and dad; if I didn’t have the parents I have, I wouldn’t be here today,” Nickerson says. “A lot of my friends were in gangs, and did drugs and went to prison and I could have gone that way too, but my dad’s the reason I didn’t.

“It’s been real rough during the holidays. I have his initials on my shoulder pads, and a permanent place in my heart, but I’ve found myself just sitting there with my children and reminiscing about such great times with him.

“I can remember him talking proudly about me going to Cal and the tears in his eyes. He was a football hero at Bakersfield High School, and people still talk about him, and he set a lot of rushing records. But he didn’t have the opportunity to go on and play in college, and I think part of everything I accomplished was his way of living out his dreams, and I like to think that was my payback to him.”

Before “Big Hardy’s” death, his son and daughter-in-law brought into this world “Baby Hardy,” his only grandson, and together three generations of Nickersons had the opportunity to share some grand times.

“My husband and I talked about it,” JoAnn says. “Hardy’s daddy was so proud of Little Hardy’s marriage and grandchildren, and he got to see his only grandson. He was so excited about ‘Baby Hardy’ and he got the chance to see his son develop into a fine man, and his daughters into hard-working women.

“Life goes on, and now Little Hardy is my hero. He has his dad’s spirit, and I just know his dad was looking down on him last week and saying, ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ after the Buccaneers won. And this week--in Green Bay--now David, he did kill Goliath, right?”

The Packers, however, are twice the size of Goliath, two-touchdown favorites to end the Buccaneers’ dream season, and thereby ending Hardy Nickerson’s season-long dedication in his daddy’s honor.

“I’d love to advance further, but I think I’ve done what I needed to do,” Little Hardy says. “In those quiet moments, I still talk to him, the things I used to talk to him about on the telephone.

“It’s funny, we go to these production meetings with the different TV crews that come in and they give you these hats. And I’d always take them to give them to my daddy, but now when I take one and get in my car, it’s like, ‘Dang, he’s gone.’ So I got about 10 of them now piled up in my car.

“And that’s the thing, I miss him so much. But after everything that’s happened this year--all the good things--I know Daddy’s up in heaven right now, smiling, and saying, ‘That’s my boy.’ ”