Speed: Part 1

By Phil Williams

“Speed: Part 1”

(post #8 in my Bobby Bowden ‘tribute series’)

Speed.

Coaches love it, recruit it, talk about it, prepare for it. It is probably the main qualifier that comes out when they talk about the strengths of opponents.

And I would have almost killed for more of it.

Now, you must understand that when I say “more”, I basically mean “some”, for that seemingly essential attribute for collegiate success in football had been denied me by the gods. True, I had a few other attributes that helped me survive (and perhaps we will get to that later), but without a minimum level of speed one rarely even gets a chance. This is why I had been a walk-on.

When Gene McDowell, then the linebacker coach at FSU, came to recruit THE BIG THREE (see last post) at my high school, he was nice enough to speak with me for a few minutes. To Coach McDowell’s credit, he sang the tune that was music to my ears, that Fred Biletnikoff (Hall of Fame receiver who played at FSU) was not fast, and that Coach Bowden thought perhaps I might follow in his footsteps, in a sense. Well, I knew that Fred was bigger and faster than me, but sometimes it’s the thought that counts.

I remember taking a trip down to Tallahassee during the early part of 1977 with my high school teammate, defensive lineman David Kemp - a heck of a player for us at WRHS - where Coach Bowden echoed McDowell’s sentiment, and I was pretty much sold.

At about that same time, though, I received a letter from Auburn University. I was excited to open it. It went something like this: “As you know, Phil, we have recently signed your teammate James Brooks, one of the most sought after players in the country. Because you are ‘not as fast’ as him we cannot offer you an athletic scholarship at this time but feel certain you can make our team while attending Auburn on academic scholarship...”

Blah, blah, blah...

To tell the truth I really didn’t catch the rest of it. What got me was that little “lack of speed” note. Though it was obvious that the speed issue was at the heart of my athletic scholarship dearth, I sure as hell didn’t like being reminded of it. Had they just offered the academic scholarship and refrained from that statement I would have probably scooted on over to The Plains of Auburn screaming “War Eagle” all the way. But pride has a way of factoring into a young man’s decisions at times, so I balled that piece of sh@# up and drilled it into the garbage can like I was spiking a touchdown. Against Auburn! I called Coach Bowden and told him a I was coming to FSU.

(on a side note, Auburn has since miraculously recovered from that recruiting blunder)

Over a year later, and before my first spring training (in 1978, which I wrote about in my first post in this series), we had to run the forty yard dash by position. I was not excited; in fact, I dreaded it. Nonetheless, it was required.

Coach Kent Schoolfield was the wide receiver coach at the time (he was my coach for my first three years at FSU, with John Eason for my fourth), and he ran us in Doak Cambell Stadium on the game field; if memory serves, he timed us, too.

He called out my time after I gutted out that damned forty, and I swear that man was lying. Clearly he did not like me or he would not have said such a thing. I was hoping no one else heard this malicious man calling out such an obviously inflated time (have I gone far enough with this?).

I instinctively grabbed my hamstring, wincing in faux pain (though there definitely was a touch of emotional pain!), as if the culprit of such a ludicrous exhibition was a slight muscle pull.

(As far as the actual results, you’ll have to excuse me; I ‘heard’ someone stole into the football office archives shortly thereafter and confiscated the paperwork that held the forty times on them, so I don’t remember it exactly. Shame on whoever it was!) Well, I learned something that day. After I had earned the scholarship following spring training (alluded to in an earlier post titled “The Negotiation”), I gained a bit of confidence, or perhaps something more akin to moxie (though some might call it something else entirely - dishonesty?) - each year when it was time for that awful forty to be run, I would glance over at Coach Bowden while simultaneously reaching back to massage my hamstring. And yes, I would wince a little.

Coach Bowden would just sort of harrumph and shake his head with a slight smile, obviously on to my game, and look away. He knew exactly what I was doing, and was somehow okay with it.

Folks, I never ran another forty for the Seminoles, each time following the same routine. And Coach Bowden his.

Well, I did run a forty once more, but only once. And not for our coaches. It was actually by choice, the day the pro scouts came to FSU to scout our seniors-to-be (which I was). And Coach Bowden’s reaction to that forty was priceless. But I reckon I will save that for the post - Speed: Part 3…