You don't need to live in Texas
very long before you grasp the magnitude of the passion
for football flowing through the people of the state, it
is mightier than the Rio Grande
itself. My own stint in Texas only lasted a single
academically disastrous, yet socially wondrous, semester
spent on the campus of Southern Methodist University in
the early eighties. During one of my very first weekends
there, my roommate and I drove through some of the most
arid countryside I'd ever seen to go watch his little
brother quarterback the ninth grade team to a narrow
victory. Naturally, the following morning I woke up on
his lawn amidst a pile of empty beer cans with the
sensation of a spike through my eye and sand in my mouth.
Yes…they drink beer after the Friday night football games
in Texas…lots of beer.
As I sat in the hard scratchy grass that grew there, trying
to rub the grassy impression off my face, an unkempt old
man appeared on the lawn. Before I could inquire as to
whom he was, my friend and his father emerged from the
house.
Without so much as an introduction, the man blurted out,
"Your boy's telegraphin' if it's gonna be a run or a
pass."
"How's he doin' that?" my friend’s father asked, without
blinking an eye.
"He's lookin' down at the center when he's calling the
cadence on the run, but he's lookin' at the defense when
it's a pass," the man replied.
"Thank you kindly," my friend’s dad replied, "How's your
boy doin'?"
"They got him red-shirted at Tech. Coach says he's too
weak."
For several more minutes they exchanged pleasantries and
the man left. We went inside and watched some film of the
game, and sure enough, he was telegraphing whether it was
a run or a pass. I thought the old man was a friend of
the family or a relation, but I was wrong. The man had
driven forty miles from a neighboring town, the town which
had been the opponent the previous night, just to tell us
that. My friend knew of him, his boy had been a
linebacker for a high school he'd played against, but the
man no longer had any children in prep school. Even so,
he went to Friday night football games to watch the boys
play even though he no longer had a rooting interest. My
first thought was that the man needed to get a life, but
then I realized that for many people down there football
is their life. By the time I had left, I had been given a
clear introduction to Texas
football fanaticism.
Several years ago I called my friend to check up on him and
to see what he thought of the woes SMU was
suffering through. When I got him on the phone, there was
commotion in the background.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Dwight Johnson's little brother had thirty tackles last
night. Unbelievable."
That was the first time I had heard of Derrick Johnson.
Waco High is a long stretch across Texas
from my friend's house, but word had spread like wildfire
across those dried fields. I remembered making a big deal
out of someone making twenty tackles in a local high
school game when I was growing up. Thirty seemed just
insane.
When you watch interviews with Derrick Johnson, you see the
gentile natured young man who is a member of Fellowship of
Christian Athletes. He answers all of the questions
politely, speaks kindly of his teammates, and seems
respectful of the competition. When you see him on the
field however, you think he's insane, and you fear he's
just might rip someone's head off. It’s not often, but
every once in a great while a player of this intensity
comes along to make his mark on football.
At 6'4" and 230 lbs., you may think he's a bit too light to
dominate, but don't kid yourself. He may not have the
frame to play defensive tackle like his brother Dwight did
when he played for Baylor, but every ounce of that weight
is muscle and once in the NFL he'll most likely carry
another ten pounds or more.
One of the things that makes Johnson special is the way
that he sees the play unfold and keeps his eye on the
ball, all the while making his body do exactly what it
needs to be doing to separate from the blocker and get to
the ball carrier. He uses his hands well to fend off the
blocker and takes nice angles to get to the carrier as
quickly as possible, without giving ground. Among the
leaders in tackles for a loss last year with 19.5, he gets
penetration when he's sent on the attack.
With Mack Brown's Longhorns likely turning to their running
game to carry the offense this year, they will need
stellar play from their defense. They are privileged to
have Johnson, who I consider to be the leading candidate
for the Defensive Player of the Year award going into the
season. He will undoubtedly be a finalist and prohibitive
favorite to win the Butkus Award finalist.
The only knocks on Johnson are his relatively low sack
total and his lack of skill in man-to-man coverage.
Although I attribute his low sack total to the defensive
system he plays in more than some lack of ability, he will
have to develop a better assortment of pass rush moves
once he comes to the NFL, if he is to stay outside. At
Texas, he hasn't been asked to do very much man coverage,
so he'll spend a year learning that once he's drafted. I
have no doubt that he'll tackle both of those skills with
the same ferocity with which he tackles running backs.
Texans have known about Johnson for a long time now and
they expect great things from him. There is no question
that he will be the inspirational leader of this Longhorn
team, and because of the intensity he displays on the
field, it is he, as much as it is their star running back,
who is expected to lead the team to glory. Undoubtedly,
Johnson will carry that intensity with him to the NFL.
Any team that drafts him will get someone who will pick up
teammates when they are down, who will challenge them when
they are complacent, and who will never let them quit. As
clear as my introduction to Texas
football was, it’s equally clear that Johnson is a special
football player.
