I don’t usually feel too badly for elite college athletes when they suffer an injury. I don’t mean that to sound callous. But it’s going to sound callous. And that’s because it’s callous. I should feel terrible for someone who has practiced self-discipline and sacrifice and worked incredibly hard for years to reach a goal of competing against the best of the best at something, only to have that goal yanked out from under them just as they’ve reached it because somebody rolled over their leg or because they tore a tendon on what might otherwise be considered a perfect body. And I suppose that I do feel at least a bit of human empathy in those situations. In my life, the equivalent would be, I suppose, working hard to get a good radio job, then finding out I’m allergic to whatever it is that microphones are made out of. And I know that’s kind of a stupid example, but the only other ones I could think of all involved my throat being torn out by some sort of large woodland creature. And, as close to a real football game injury as that comparison sounds, I still found it a bit unpleasant.
Anyway, this isn’t really about me. It’s about someone for whom I genuinely do feel really sorry. And that person is Taysom Hill. As of last week, when the BYU Cougars played and defeated the Nebraska Cornhuskers, Taysom Hill was the starting quarterback for the Cougars, the team that has a national championship on its resume’ and gave us such quarterbacks as Steve Young and Jim McMahon and Heisman Trophy winner Ty Detmer. Naturally, it’s an accomplishment to be a starter at any position. A guard or a punter or a guy that only comes in for the nickel defense can contribute to a win or a loss just as much as any player on the field. But quarterback is an image. It’s Joe Namath, and Joe Montana, and Joe Theismann, and even a bunch of guys whose names aren’t Joe. There’s Terry Bradshaw, and the Mannings: Archie, Peyton and Eli, and Tom Brady and Jim Harbaugh and Steve Spurrier and Chris Petersen and Bryan Harsin. All quarterbacks.
Quarterbacks make tons of money. They date cheerleaders and prom queens and playmates of the month. They get to be in movies and commercials and on TV shows even if they can’t act. They win Heisman trophies and MVP awards. And they become head coaches more often than other positions because they’re known for being smart and having the ability to make quick decisions. And they’re already used to being credited for every win and blamed for every loss, just like a head coach. On the downside, I already mentioned that they get blamed for every loss. They also get blamed more than receivers for dropped passes and blamed more than linemen for getting sacked. And the grumpiest, most powerful players in football, guys like Lawrence Taylor and Bruce Smith and J.J. Watt and Reggie White and Too Tall Jones and Jared Allen, make a career out of chasing down and crushing quarterbacks.
And that brings me back to Taysom Hill. Taysom Hill was a star quarterback at Highland High School in Pocatello. He was the state MVP his senior year. He was recruited by Boise State, Arizona, Oregon State, Washington State, Utah, BYU and Stanford. Right out of high school in 2009, Hill committed to Stanford, then went on an LDS mission to Australia. When he got back, he planned to enroll for the spring semester at Stanford and play spring ball. But he found out that at Stanford, incoming freshmen aren’t allowed to join the football team until June, when spring football is already over. After two years out of the country not playing football, Hill thought he needed to start playing some football immediately. So instead of Stanford, he went to BYU. They didn’t have the same rule as Stanford.
During his freshman year in 2012, Hill was listed as the number-two quarterback on the depth chart. The first time he got into a game, he threw a touchdown pass on the first play. Then he injured his knee against Utah State, and his season was over. He played in just six games. Hill’s sophomore year, 2013, was great. He played the whole season, 13 games, and didn’t get hurt. But his junior year, 2014, ended after five games when he suffered a broken leg. Again, it was against Utah State. And then came 2015, his senior year. Expectations were high. Half a dozen sportswriters said the key to Brigham Young’s season was keeping Taysom Hill safe and healthy. One article even had a top-ten list of ways to prevent Hill from getting hurt. Number one on the list? Don’t run the ball so much.
Last week, in the opening game of the year, BYU beat Nebraska on a thrilling hail Mary touchdown pass with just one second left on the clock. But the pass wasn’t thrown by Taysom Hill. It was thrown by Tanner Mangum. Hill started the game, but he didn’t finish it. And afterward, BYU coach Bronco Mendenhall announced that Hill was out for the season because he broke his Lisfranc. That’s when a lot of us found out that “Lisfranc” is another word for “mid-foot”. As I said before, there are plenty of reasons for me not to feel sorry for Taysom Hill. He’s getting an education on scholarship money. He’s married and starting a family. He doesn’t play for Boise State. He’s 25 years old, a fact of which I am jealous because I was 25 years old 25 years ago. And tonight we get to see another Idahoan, Tanner Mangum, play quarterback for BYU. I won’t be rooting for him, because I went to Boise State, and I’ll be rooting for them. But it’ll be nice to see a familiar face. And I still really, genuinely do feel sorry for Taysom Hill. He’s had a lot of fun, and he’s got a lot going for him. And his wife, Emily, could very well have been a cheerleader or prom queen. I checked, and she wasn’t in Playboy, which is probably a better thing at BYU anyway. But figuratively, the universe told Taysom Hill he won the lottery. And then the universe said, “Made you look”!
