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Fraley - Emmitt did what his father couldn't

Former Cowboys RB Emmitt Smith accomplished what his father couldn't

01:02 AM CDT on Friday, August 6, 2010

By GERRY FRALEY / The Dallas Morning News gfraley@dallasnews.com

The fellas talk about Puddin' and his feats as if they happened yesterday.

Puddin' was really something running the football for Booker T. Washington High School, but you should have seen him in the pickup games at the dirt-and-rock field on Cervantes Street across from the junior high school, they say.

Puddin' was as tough as those rocks. He got stronger every time you knocked him down. The heat never bothered Puddin'.

And what about what he did when his oldest son was a senior in high school? Puddin' wanted to play again and signed up with a semipro team. They put him at safety, and he made every play. The man was in his 40s and could still play.

"Puddin' was smooth, smooth as pudding," said Walt Williams, a contemporary who went on to an illustrious basketball career at Southern University. "He was a hell of a player."

Puddin' went on to be an equally accomplished bus driver. Puddin' left it to his oldest son to, as he said on that momentous day in February, "live my dream."

Puddin' is Emmit Smith Jr., who never left his hometown of Pensacola in the Florida Panhandle. His son, Emmitt, goes into the Pro Football Hall of Fame on Saturday.

To understand how Emmitt Smith, who added the extra T in his first name while in college, became the all-time leading rusher in NFL history while leading the Cowboys to three Super Bowl championships, start with the father.

"With Emmitt, it's all in the genes," said Horace Jones, an Escambia, Fla., County Schools official who played defensive end in the NFL for six seasons. "With his quickness and elusiveness, Puddin' could have been just as proficient as Emmitt, I've always believed. I've always wondered what would have happened if things had been different."


Legendary status

Emmit Smith Jr. is a handsome, soft-spoken man. One look, and it is clear where his son got his body type, with its broad shoulders and powerful legs.

When asked about his playing career, the father said only "I was pretty good" without offering details. He is more willing to talk about the academic achievements of his children, including his oldest son becoming the first in the family to get a college degree, and his work as a driver-operator with the Escambia County Area Transit. His Hall of Fame is the "Million Miles Club," open only to drivers with a million miles on the job and no accidents.

"An excellent employee and an outstanding gentleman," said ECAT general manager Kenneth Gordon. "I would agree with every good thing you've heard about him."

The father never talked about his athletic feats and was opposed to his son playing organized football at an early age. The mother, Mary, secretly signed up a 7-year-old Emmitt for a youth league.

Emmitt Smith learned about his father's feats from uncles and cousins. A co-worker of his father would always remind Emmitt Smith about the family legacy.

"I wish I could have seen a tape of my father playing ball," Emmitt Smith said with longing in his voice. "I still don't know how good my father was. I heard stories about him, and I used to say 'Show me tape.' But they never had tape."

Oral history is about all that remains of the father's career. Emmit Smith Jr. grew up in a different time, when Pensacola was a tightly segregated city. Schools were not fully integrated, under court order, until 1969.

Emmit Smith Jr. attended the "black" high school: Washington, Class of 1962. The local newspaper rarely mentioned Washington and never put a game story or a picture on the front page. It was a parallel universe.

Regional powerhouse colleges such as Alabama, Auburn and Florida did not come by, because the Southeastern Conference was years from integration. Statistics? Rarely kept and lost to history.

Only the black community really knew about the combination of durable running back and hard-hitting linebacker known as Puddin'.

"This city is full of athletes," said Williams, a three-sport star at Washington in the late '60s. "We had players who just didn't get the chance because people didn't see them.

"When Emmitt came up, the schools were integrated, and he had a great opportunity. More eyes saw him."

Horace Jones saw both Smiths play and said the father had the exact running style as the son. The father could have run "Lead Draw" just as well as the son because he had the same ability to make quick cuts in a small area. No one ever got a clean lick on Puddin', Jones said.

Ray Palmer saw both Smiths play but from a different perspective. He was a childhood friend and teammate of Emmitt Smith.

Palmer also watched in disbelief as Puddin', at age 43, played safety for the semipro Pensacola Wings of the Dixie Football Association in 1986.

"He could still play then," said Palmer, who directs the Southern Youth Sports Association in Pensacola. "People always talked about [what] a real athlete he was as a kid, and you could still see it then. Puddin' was some kind of athlete."

Emmit Smith Jr. never pushed his son. He abhorred stage parents and lingered in the background, offering advice and encouragement as needed.

Early in his career with the Cowboys, Emmitt Smith would get agitated at the end of plays and try to get out of the pile as quickly as possible. Wasted energy, the father told him. Stay down and let the big guys lift you to your feet.

"He was right," the son said.

The father did demand dignity on the field. When the son launched into a look-at-me touchdown dance early in his career at Florida, the father scolded him.

"Son, show a little class," the father said. "Act like you've been there before."

The son listened and never danced again.


Family obligations

Through the grapevine, historically black colleges heard about the exploits of Emmit Smith Jr.

Jake Gaither, legendary coach of powerful Florida A&M, made a scouting trip to Pensacola. Fisk University offered a scholarship.

It was a waste of time. Emmit Smith Jr. was needed at home.

His mother, Erma Lee, had severe health problems that rendered her an invalid and required constant attention. When her husband Emmit "Big" Smith went to work doing heavy labor at Armstrong World Industries, the son had to be there for her. College was out of the question.

The son dutifully fulfilled his family obligations, never complaining. He found a career with the transit authority. He married the vivacious Mary and raised five children. He never looked back with regret.

"A very respectable person," Williams said. "Very good at everything he did."

On the first Saturday of February this year, the father and son were together at the other end of their home state. They were in Fort Lauderdale, awaiting what was a formality: the son's election to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

In the quiet time before the announcement, the father let the son in on his secret.

"I had the dreams of doing what you're doing, but my mother got sick and I never did go to college," the father whispered to the son. "You are living my dream."

With that, the son broke into tears. He had honored his father. Puddin' would not be forgotten.

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