David Hankins Unlikely Drive To Kick

By Ren Turner
It was the Cotton Bowl two years ago and then sophomore, David Hankins, was expected to play his normal role: on the bench. Whether by chance or destiny, almost as if planned by the great playwrights, the stage was set for this young man who only knew the feeling of grass on a practice field. When the usual kickoff man Justin Sparks came down with illness, Coach Nutt gave the nod to Hankins. At an in home interview he reminisced on the moment, “Tie those laces tight Hankins, your kicking today,” Nutt had said.

Hankins took the field in Dallas to the scream of a record crowd and an amped up Texas Tech team that already promised victory. Hankins took care of all eight Rebel kickoffs that night, averaging 62 yards per kick. All Ole Miss fans remember the victory and most remember the celebration, but when the lights turned off and the players dismantled for the rest of Christmas vacation, David Hankins made the short drive home to Shreveport, La to spend time with his family in simplicity and humility.

Hankins is a senior now with one more year of eligibility. Following his performance in the Cotton Bowl, he has only kicked sporadically against subpar opponents. Long time friend and roommate Michael Giery said, “I can’t figure out why he still does it. Geological Engineering combined with SEC football is an awful combination, especially when you don’t play.”

“I probably won’t play,” Hankins said pessimistically about next season.

“How have you been kicking?” I ask.

“Great,” he said. “But that’s just how it goes for me.”

Undeniably, there is something driving him and it’s not the promise of play. Rebel football practice is in full swing now, and although Hankins has the senior advantage of paid dues there is no guarantee. The Rebels have young talented kickers in Bryson Rose and Andrew Ritter who saw playing time over Hankins last season and coaches see their play as an investment for the future. “Hankins and I are great friends,” Ritter said. “But on the field we’re both going for the same goal so sure there’s some competition.”

“I don’t know why I’m staying,” Hankins said. “I’m going to be getting a minor is Parks and Recreation or something.” He then mocks the idea, highlighting the bizarre dichotomy of Geological Engineering with Parks and Rec. “Employers will just be confused by me,” he said.

By all accounts of physical appearance, Hankins has no place on a collegiate football field. He wears his two hundred and twenty pounds of loose skin on a lanky six foot, three inch frame and carries his awkward mass with a bad slouch and a country tongue. Frankly, he doesn’t give a damn.

One thing Giery said is that he has always known Hankins to adore his father, Lull Hankins.
Lull was the victim of a car accident some years ago and became a quadriplegic, and since then had run a business offering custom accessories to the handicapped. He was David’s biggest fan, calling him after every practice and checking in, until the morning when he was found dead at home in his wheelchair.

Michael Giery retold the scene when Miss Hankins called David to report the news. Those powerful legs that send footballs into opposing end zones couldn’t even hold him at that point. “He collapsed, and with his head buried deep into his arms he cried. He sobbed, actually,” Giery said.

“My dad was my best friend,” Hankins said. “I loved playing football for him and I think a part of me still does play for him.”