Kicking…the Early Days

As a kid, one year my dad took me to participate in the Ford/NFL’s Punt, Pass, & Kick competition. I remember pouring over the booklet that was published, with stories, drawings, and photos of the Cardinals’ Jim Bakken, the Vikings’ Fred Cox, and the Chiefs’ Jerryl Wilson. Every year I would pour over the booklets, particularly the kickers and punters. My interest in kicking may have been spurred on by the fact that in that lone PP&K competition that I actually took part, I placed third in the kicking part, for my age group. Forget that my kick only went 33 feet, or eleven yards…I was hooked.

The driveway in new house was long and straight, perfect for kicking. Most days after school I could be found kicking my football. At first the idea was to kick it over the wire that served as the crossbar. As I improved, the kicks would sail into the street, then into the yard across the street. I moved back, for longer field goal attempts. The pine tree guarding the end of the driveway has branches that never recovered, and I still look up to remember where the good, high kicks would knock away parts of the branch. The footballs would tear up from all the wear of the concrete.

Playing rec football in the sixth and seventh grades, it never occurred to me to try out for kicker. That job was given to the best athletes. No big deal, as there were few kickoffs anyway, and the rubber balls refused to be kicked as well as the regulation leather balls…though it took me years to figure this out.

My team in eighth grade went undefeated during the regular season, the Browns (though our jerseys were blue!). I weighed 120 pounds, which was the weight limit, and played defensive end and tight end. In the first game they called a pass play to me. Nervous, I didn’t hear the snap count, and jumped offsides. The ball was snapped, and I caught the pass for a ten yard gain…that was promptly called back.

Later in the year the halfback pass right was called. My job was to run a deep flag pattern. Danny threw a perfect ball that I caught, and I turned upfield, near the sideline. Nothing but the green field ahead. As I ran by our bench, out of the corner of my eye I spied the coaches and teammates on the sidelines, excitedly urging me on. The field was 80 yards long, and my touchdown covered 65 yards. Having often thought about what cool thing to do if I ever scored a touchdown, all I could manage was the throw both arms in the air, as teammates came to hug me in the end zone. Another highlight in the season was sacking the QB from behind, forcing a fumble. I also had an interception, when the QB fumbled, and I caught it in midair.

In ninth grade I joined the school team, and for the first few weeks I was just part of the crowd. Then one day before practice several of us were messing around kicking field goals. Later that same practice we worked on kicking for the first time all year, and QB George DuBose let the coach know that “Murphy can kick.” After a few kicks, the job was mine. DuBose was the one who cracked up the bus when leaving for a road game. Coach Jones had made a big deal that everyone needed to use the restroom before we left. As the bus pulled out, from the back George called out ‘hey coach, gotta pee!’ Hilarious, to us ninth grade boys.

Once during practice I kicked a field goal against a rushing defense, and someone hit me while my kicking leg was still up in the air. The hit must have made me land on my head, because the next thing I remember was opening my eyees to see the entire team crowded around me. It’s the only time I’ve ever been knocked out.

Though few opponents kicked point-afters, I was able to kick more and more PATs as the season rolled on. We had a dominating team, going undefeated and winning the 1973 city championship. The Georgia Military College B-team came over from Milledgeville for a game, and we beat them 66 to nothing. Several weeks later we bussed over there to play in their little stadium. After we’d score, their cheerleaders would do pushups. That stopped in the first quarter, and at halftime we had equaled the 66 – 0 score. With the stadium wall located right behind the goalposts, my extra-points easily soared out of the park. Everyone played, and the final score was 96-0…a game still discussed at school reunions.

My tenth grade year was spent kicking for the B-team, and again we were the city champs. It was fun traveling across the state to play, in Warner-Robins and Athens. Wherever we played, my dad would arrange his schedule to watch. He was becoming more involved with the Big Orange Booster Club, eventually serving as president. The varsity kicker was senior David Taylor, who made high-school All-American as a center/defensive tackle. He later kicked for Brigham-Young.