When Tigers Streak: The Michael Hart Story

By Paul Taylor

In the mid-1990s, the Onondaga Central Tigers were on the brink of extinction.
Contemplating retirement, coach Paul Taylor faced the low point of his career. After years of decline, the football program at Onondaga Central High School in Upstate New York had so few eligible players that they couldn’t finish the season. It took grit, commitment, and inspired leadership for the team just to hang on and start the long climb back.
And then, in 2000, the miracle they needed arrived: an undersized ninth-grade transfer who already had a reputation as a standout running back—Michael Hart. Seven years later, Hart was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as a contender for the Heisman Trophy, college football’s most coveted award.
Through the eyes of Hart’s coach and mentor, When Tigers Streak follows the young running back as he sets more than a dozen state and national records during a stunning high school career. Along with Hart’s rise, the memoir chronicles a coach’s path from despair to victory, the resurgence of a football program in a tight-knit blue-collar community, and the individual triumphs, heartbreaks, and tragedies that unfold along the way. When Tigers Streak makes a case for Michael Hart as the greatest running back in the history of high school football—and serves as an inspirational tale for any young athletes aspiring to be their best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532071386

Paul Taylor

Author Paul Taylor was born and raised on a gentleman’s farm in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Alabama. Paul has dedicated his life to understanding and communicating the complexities, interrelationships, politics, sciences, economics and global significance manifested in environmental matters. Mr. Taylor has authored two prior book: “Green Gone Wrong” and “Climate of Ecopolitics.” He has a B.S. degree in Biology/Chemistry and a Master of Science degree in Environmental Science from the Tulane University School of Public Health. Paul also has post-graduate environmental training from the University of Alabama Marine Sciences Institute, the University of Maryland, the University of California at Irvine, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Tulane University Law School. And, Paul has been a Registered Environmental Assessor in the State of California. Paul is instructor and curricula developer as faculty in Environmental Science Studies at two Los Angeles universities, and at three other colleges campuses in Southern California in recent years. Paul is founder and principal of Paul Taylor Consulting -- Environmental science and energy consultant to institutions, commercial, industrial and governments, with specialty in scientific environmental impact reports, air and water pollution, wetlands and wildlife resources, sustainable energy and land use. Environmental compliance strategist and court expert witness. Mr. Taylor has posted hundreds of influential “Opinion Comments” in The Wall Street Journal concerning environmental issues -- Ecopolitics. Paul was a weekly contributor as the “Los Angeles Ecopolitics Examiner” under contract to Clarion Media from 2009 to 2013. Over the years he has been published in the Los Angeles Times, The Wall Street Journal, San Francisco Chronicle and The Washington Times.

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Copyright © 2019 Paul Taylor.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-7137-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7138-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019904506

iUniverse rev. date: 04/26/2019

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Author’s Note

Prologue

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Halftime

Part II

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Some Final Thoughts

The Coaches

Where Are They Now?

Endnotes

All your dreams can come true if you have the courage to pursue them.

—Walt Disney

There are two individuals who were most influential in my professional life.

To my dear friend Donald Emm: Where might life’s challenges have taken me if it were not for your guidance and friendship? Auf Wiedersehen, my friend—auf Wiedersehen!

To the Reverend George Sheehan, my teacher, mentor, principal, and friend. You taught me some of life’s most important lessons: dedication to a cause worth fighting for, the power of forgiveness, and the virtue of humility. When I was a brash, headstrong seventeen-year-old, you taught me that the one true time machine, the very best teleportation engine, is the written word. It can take you to breathtaking places throughout history, help you envision spectacular sites, and let you experience life’s innumerable challenges. You set me on a path that has lasted for more than half a century—a journey that evolved into a passion for reading. You took a chance on an inexperienced twenty-three-year-old and hired me to begin what would become a thirty-nine-year joyride as an educator. For all of this and more, I thank you!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THIS BOOK HAS BEEN MORE than ten years in the making. In the end, it was my wife’s encouragement and patience with my mood swings, frustrations, and procrastination that got me to the finish line. To Aaron Wolf and his savvy computer skills, I will always be grateful. To our children, Bryan, Kevin, Christopher, Shannon, Ashley, and Justin, now all thriving in their chosen careers, my most ardent supporters, thank you. Many thanks to Janet Ferris, who cleaned up my grammatical shortcomings. Nick Spataro’s insights into Michael’s early development were greatly appreciated. Kudos to Bill Rasbeck, who never erred in his belief in us. And, finally, to Bill Spicer and Michael Hart, who made this story not only possible but necessary.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

THE WORD MYTHICAL FINDS ITS roots in ancient Greek history. Its original usage emanates from the bountiful stories surrounding the interplay of their gods and goddesses, mortals they encountered, and explanations for the numerous mysterious happenings of that time period. Because many of those stories involved superhuman feats, the word mythical became the ultimate praise for an act or series of acts that seemed beyond the limits of our human abilities.

Somewhat less dramatic, yet inspiring all the same, are the legendary stories of athletic achievement in our modern world. On rare occasions, an athlete comes along who rewrites the record books in a sport and sets the bar of excellence to a new height. His or her feats approach that unique pinnacle we define as mythical. Such are the exploits of Michael Hart. He changed the landscape of high school football forever. The records he established may never be duplicated, and the contributions he made to his school and community will be a part of lore for decades to come. This narrative, however, cannot be recounted in isolation from the epic tale behind the resurrection of our football program; the coach who brought it all together; and the individual triumphs, heartaches, and tragedies that unfolded along the way.

Michael’s exploits are the stuff of legend. He set more than a dozen state and national records during his high school years. His place in scholastic gridiron history will be debated far and wide. He will be compared with high school greats the likes of Earl Campbell, Walter Payton, Emmitt Smith, and Ken Hall, the Sugarland Express.

Although Hall moved on to play collegiate and professional ball, his true mastery was his accomplishments as a teenager in southeastern Texas. He played in the early 1950s and set the standard for high school running backs. In four years as the workhorse for the Sugarland High School team, he gained 11,232 yards and led his team to three regional championships. For more than sixty years, this record yardage has stood as the holy grail of excellence for anyone who might challenge it. Countless young ball carriers have played the game since then only to fall short—and, in almost all cases, well short—of his mark. There have been a few, though, who have come close. They entered that rarefied air of football immortality as they approached Hall’s record. Tony Baker of Jamestown, North Carolina, came close with 10,241 yards, followed by a half dozen players who chalked up figures in the 9,000-yard range. Scores of athletes have compiled numbers over 5,000 yards in their high school careers.

A few years back, ESPN researched this topic and came to the conclusion that Ken Hall was the greatest running back in the annals of the sport. It is my belief that ESPN may want to revisit their decision. For my part, with this publication, I will offer evidence in an attempt to show that Michael Hart is, indeed, the greatest running back in the long and storied history of high school football.

Most mammals are social animals. They bond together primarily for survival. Packs and herds, pods and prides, colonies and flocks are found throughout our world. The tiger, however, is, for the most part, a loner, living a solitary life on the hunt each day to sustain itself. On rare occasions, though, tigers will form up in a group known as a streak, most likely for survival or propagation of the species. Together, this streak commands a force unrivaled in nature. When united in a common cause, they are the undisputed masters of their realm.

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PROLOGUE

September 15, 1995

I PULLED INTO THE SCHOOL parking area just after six thirty in the evening. The lot was sparsely filled with just a few dozen cars, most of them close to the entrance leading to the stadium. Twenty-two years of experience scouting future opponents taught me to always bring more clothes than I thought I would need, so I grabbed an extra hoodie, along with my gear, and headed to the admission gate.

Finding a dry seat was going to be next to impossible. It had been raining for two straight days. The best I could hope for was an empty spot under the overhang of the press box at the top of the bleachers. As luck would have it, there were only sixty or seventy die-hard fans in attendance huddled together in small groups under umbrellas down low in the stadium. Most of them were leaning on the security fence separating the spectators from the field.

Rome Catholic High School was hosting Hamilton in what by definition was going to be a quagmire. As I climbed to the top of the stairs, the lights came on. They sat atop four steel stanchions that stood like sentinels guarding the battleground. Normally, they were a draw for all manner of flying insects, but on this night, they served as little more than rain gauges, the lights indicating the ever-changing direction of the downpour.

I tucked myself up against the face of the press box at midfield, elevated about twenty-five feet above ground level. I pulled out my play charts from under my raincoat and put them into a clear plastic bag just big enough to accommodate my work materials and one hand to write with. My other hand would be kept busy attempting to keep the bag sealed off from the outside elements. I was now ready to start my scouting report for our upcoming game with the Red Wings of Rome, New York.

Within minutes after the opening kickoff, I came to the conclusion that this strategy was going to be a dismal failure. A cold, biting wind was swirling around the three-story structure, forcing the precipitation sideways. It came in irregular waves. Although the rain wasn’t heavy, its velocity felt like little pins and needles assaulting my uncovered body parts. My face and free hand began to sting as the winds continued to oscillate back and forth. As much as I tried to keep my makeshift office dry, the charts sitting on my lap began to blur as water found its way into the bag and blended with freshly penned ink markings.

I was rapidly losing the battle with this setup, so I went to my alternate plan. In a last-ditch effort to salvage what I could from this assignment, I pulled out a microphone connected to a small tape recorder on a strap slung over my shoulder, protected by my rain gear. I would have to describe the action verbally, including the down and distance, formation, the play itself, and the results, like a television sportscaster minus the colorful analysis. Later, at home, I would have to transcribe the information onto paper, doubling the amount of time spent on this trip.

Sitting there in a cold, wet stadium, alone and thirty-five miles from home, I began to question the sanity of it all. There must be a better way to make a living. As expected, within minutes the contest deteriorated into a mud bowl. Jersey numbers were becoming unreadable, and both teams had reverted to their most basic plays, not daring to pass or pitch the ball around in such treacherous conditions. I wasn’t going to get a good look at either team’s offensive package, and both teams had dispensed with multiple defensive looks, stacking eight or nine players on the line of scrimmage.

To add to my problems was the fact that at this point of the season we were 0–2, having lost to two of the weaker teams in our division. With just a handful of capable players left, we were entering the tougher part of our campaign. I’d been coaching since the early 1970s and was struggling with the idea that maybe it was time to give it up. Our children were involved in numerous endeavors, ranging from sports to extracurricular functions and out-of-school activities. Our oldest son was entering his second year as a midshipman at the US Naval Academy and found his niche as a linebacker in their lightweight football program. I was missing some significant moments in my family life that I could never get back. My coaching career had some good years and some that I was not very proud of but never as dismal as this season. Retiring from the coaching ranks was sounding better as my voice quivered from the chill with each play I recorded.

The open windows of the press box were about five feet above my head. I could hear the conversations that the Rome Catholic staff was having with their head coach down on the field, struggling in a futile attempt to overcome both their opponent and the weather. As one might suspect, I wasn’t able to glean much from their discussions. Off to the side was an ell attached to the main section of the press box. Two men were standing there filming the game for another school who might be playing one or both of tonight’s competitors later in the season. It didn’t take long for me to realize that they were not coaches but rather fathers who were volunteering their services to the football program they came from. The head coach at their school apparently sent them out to film possible opponents they might see in the playoffs. Between