Breaking the Sound Barrier

Keith Pyles is standing in Yannick Johnson’s face and yelling. Pyles, the defensive line coach for the Eleanor Roosevelt High School football team, is not happy with the 6-foot-2, 290-pound senior defensive tackle.

“You’ve got to get down the field!” Pyles barks during a pause in practice. “Don’t let them double-team you!”

Johnson does not hear a word Pyles says, no matter how loud the coach yells. He can’t. He is deaf.

Larry Kennybrew, an interpreter, stands to the right of Pyles. As Pyles speaks, Kennybrew’s hands move rapidly, translating the coach’s words into sign language. Johnson looks intently at Kennybrew--not Pyles--and nods his head. He understands.

Johnson, a two-year starter at defensive tackle for Eleanor Roosevelt, the defending Maryland 4A state champion, is an integral part of the Raiders’ defense. He has totaled 27 tackles and seven sacks.

Yet to his coaches and players, Johnson is not a deaf football player. He is simply a football player who happens to be deaf.

“We don’t see (Johnson) as anything different,” junior center Joe Innes said. “The only difference is that he needs an interpreter to understand the coach.”

Johnson lost his hearing after contracting the mumps when he was just over a year old, but he can hear the high pitched chirp of a referee’s whistle.

Johnson’s parents, James and Cheryl, considered enrolling him in a high school for the deaf, but they settled on Eleanor Roosevelt, which has an extensive program for the deaf and hard of hearing. They also wanted to help prepare Johnson for the hearing world.

One of approximately 25 deaf students at the school, Johnson maintains a “B” average and takes two classes with just deaf students; an interpreter accompanies him to his other classes.

“This is a cool place to be,” Yannick Johnson said through Kennybrew. “In school, (being known as a football player) helps me because a lot of people on the football team are popular. People are more willing to talk to me. They see me in the hall and walk up and pat me on the shoulder or give me thumbs up.”

Johnson has found his place as a football player and as an artist. He has a talent for drawing people; for the past two summers, he has worked at nearby amusement park as a caricature artist. His fellow teammates and classmates often ask him to design shirts and hats for them.

One of Johnson’s paintings hangs in the front lobby of the school. It is a picture of a big, strong football player, wearing a blue Raiders jersey with the number 78 on the chest.

“I imagined myself to be that person,” Johnson said.

With a talent for art, Johnson has an interesting choice ahead of him: should he attend an art school (which most likely does not have a football team) or a college where he can play football? The coaches from Gallaudet University, the nation’s premier school for the deaf and hard of hearing, already have attended one of his games.

When Johnson came out for the varsity team last year, it was obvious he had physical gifts, but he was inexperienced and out of shape.

“We saw potential, but it was going to come down to, is he willing to put out and make sacrifices?” Eleanor Roosevelt Coach Rick Houchens said. “He did, and little by little, he gained more confidence. . . . He stuck with it and said, ‘Hey, I can do this.’ ”

The Raiders’ coaches noticed Johnson’s physical strength right away. How strong is he? In last year’s state final against Gaithersburg, he sacked the Trojans’ quarterback, pulling him down with just one arm. He bench presses more than 400 pounds, compared with the team average of just over 300.

“He’s an animal on the field,” said senior running back Edwin Rios, one of Johnson’s closest friends. “I don’t know anyone stronger than him.”

Defensive tackle is a perfect fit for Johnson. The Raiders’ coaches teach the defensive linemen to react to the movement of the football being snapped instead of the sound of the quarterback’s snap count. Johnson is used primarily as a run-stopper; besides his 27 tackles and seven sacks, he also has two quarterback hurries, one forced fumble and one fumble recovery this season.

Of course, the Eleanor Roosevelt coaches and players have had to make adjustments. Since Johnson does not read lips, he needs an interpreter at practice. Kennybrew, 38, works for Professional Interpreters Exchange, an agency that has a contract with the county school system. During the day, he is an interpreter for some of the deaf students during class at Eleanor Roosevelt.

“We never viewed it as a hassle,” Houchens added. “It was just an adjustment. Once we saw the desire of Yannick and the effort he put forth, it became a lot of fun.”

Whenever one of the coaches speaks, Kennybrew is right there beside him, signing for Johnson. When the coach is mad, Kennybrew grows more animated and forceful as he signs. He leans forward, his eyes widen, and he raises his eyebrows. It’s his way of expressing the coach’s anger.

“If I make a mistake, I know that the coach is mad at me,” Johnson said. “They expect a high level from me out there.”

When the Raiders are on defense, the players are responsible for making sure that Johnson knows what’s going on. Rios, who also plays linebacker, learned how to sign the letters A and B, in order to tell Johnson which gap is his responsibility. If the defense is changed quickly, another linebacker taps Johnson on the hip to indicate which way he should move on the line.

Houchens, meantime, has learned how to sign “Good job, but you’re still soft,” which is something of an inside joke between the two. Some of the players and coaches have developed their own signs within the team. Pyles, for instance, will slap his hands together like a rocket taking off when he wants Johnson to come off the ball harder.

When players hang out in the locker room, listening to music, Johnson joins them. Johnson tells jokes and teases teammates--using Innes, whose parents are deaf, as his interpreter.

“In my opinion, what makes Yannick special is that he has the will to belong to something,” Kennybrew said. “He wants the joy of being part of something, of being part of a team. It’s a big challenge for hearing impaired people to fit in with non-hearing impaired people. But Yannick has set his goals and stayed with it.”

That’s what his parents taught him.

“Our thing with Yannick has been this: He has a problem, but that does not make him a lesser person,” James Johnson, the father, said. “He has proved himself on the field, and he has gained respect now. He’s a proud warrior.”