Whenever I was dogging it in football practice, I would turn and there would be Tommy Knox, staring right back at me. Tommy had this uncanny ability to know precisely when you were taking a play off. Without fail, the moment I did, Tommy was watching.
“What are you doing?” he would say as he grabbed your face mask and yanked. “Practice hard!”
Guys like that make football teams better. They were winners, always leaving everything they had on the field- and ensuring that everyone around did the same. If you didn’t elevate your play, then you had no place on the team. Tommy’s standard was uncompromising. Always play hard. Always play to win. He led by example, a phrase too commonly used today. But for Tommy, it was true.
My first appearance on the varsity team was on special teams – covering a kickoff. It was my big moment. And while I was just a Yoeman Johnson on the kick cover team, the moment wasn’t lost on Tommy.
A Junior – and not yet a Captain (but obviously going to be one as a Senior (he was)), Tommy was in my face getting me revved up for my big debut. By the time Tommy was done with me, between his facemask grabbing, yelling and pump routine, in my mind I was a mini Lawrence Taylor. I wasn’t just going to make the tackle. I was going to make the tackle, cause a fumble, pick it up and rumble for a touchdown.
“I am going to watch you,” Tommy announced. Who cared about the coaches, Tommy was the guy you wanted to watch you make the play. Once he saw what I did, I would be a legend.
The moment the ball was kicked, I sprinted towards it. The ball had traveled to the deep left side of the field. I was on the right side of the field. The man that was assigned to mark me was a distant memory – irrelevant to my mission. No one was going to stop me. I ran with reckless abandon, my only thought of making the big play in front of Tommy – being the hero.
I approached the first line of blockers, and sprinted to the left. No one was going to stop me.
The next thing I remember was looking up at Tommy who was standing over me as I came to.
“That was awesome,” he said, lending me a hand to pick me up, my back and helmet planted in the mud. Tommy began laughing once he saw I was ok.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You got knocked out,” Tommy said. “It was awesome. I will never forget that play. I hope you always play that hard.” He smacked me on the side of the helmet as he continued to laugh, and as he ran out onto the field to play defense. “Now watch me.”
I watched him the rest of the game and by its end I had figured out a few things:
1. The first blocker that I had come across had lowered his helmet and caught me clear in the chin knocking me out;
2. Things don’t always go as planned; and,
3. Tommy Knox was a great football player and a leader.
Tommy played a great game, proving that if he had been gifted great size, he would have played in the NFL and been a household name. He wasn’t.
After he graduated, I only saw him once when he returned to visit the school. From there, I never spoke with Tommy again. Once in a while I heard through the grapevine that he was doing well, working in New York. For me to pretend that he was a good friend would be a lie. He was just a guy that had a lasting impression on me.
Tommy died on September 11, 2001 in the terrorist attacks. He was 31 years old.
One thing I know, is if there had been any way to survive those attacks, Tommy would have done it – and he would have pulled out others with him.
Tommy’s family set up the Tommy P. Knox foundation here. In memory of Tommy, two underprivileged kids a year have a chance to attend our Alma Matter Seton Hall Prep – a school they would never have had the chance to attend without scholarships. Tommy is still changing the world, even though we all would prefer he be here.
For me, he will always be standing over me, arm outreached, lending me hand out of that mud — smiling and laughing.
– September 11, 2014