No. 95: Jamir Miller

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal The Narrative of Our Region’s Athletic Heritage.  Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness factors in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 95:

= Jamir Miller, UCLA football

The not-so-obvious choices for No. 95:
= Roger McQueen, Anaheim Ducks

The most interesting story for No. 95:
Jamir Miller, UCLA football outside linebacker (1991 to 1993)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Westwood, Pasadena


Jamir Miller’s jam at UCLA, aside from chasing down quarterbacks, seemed to be a persistent pursuit of parties. That didn’t stop until he was well into a career in pro football.

An All-American linebacker who, in just three seasons with the Bruins would lead the team in sacks each year, rack up a then-school record 23 ½ total, added 35 tackles for a loss, and was a Butkus Award finalist by the time he was done with college football, Miller said he once assessed that by his sophomore year in Westwood, “I embarked on the wild phase of my life that lasted through my second year in the NFL,” according to the Cleveland Plain Dealer in August of 2000.

UCLA’s Jamir Miller (95, center) teams up with Shane Jasper (90, right) to wrap up Wisconsin running back Terrell Fletcher (41) in the Rose Bowl on Jan. 1, 1994. (Al Bello/Allsport/Getty Images)

That didn’t include a senior year of college in that time frame.

The 6-foot-5, 252-pounder was arrested twice at UCLA — once for possessing a loaded firearm and once for accepting stolen stereo and computer equipment. He pleaded no contest to both charges, was placed on three years probation and required to perform 100 hours of community service.

Miller also was suspended for the 1993 season opener by head coach Terry Donahue, a person who Miller credits for being most responsible for recruiting him to come to UCLA and tell his mother that her son would be taken care of. UCLA not only lost that first game of the season, 27-25, to Cal, but also the second game, 14-13, at the Rose Bowl against Nebraska, to started 0-2. That would be the last season for Miller at the school.

Miller’s missteps followed a bit of a pattern he developed as a kid growing up with a single mom in the Oakland area, trying to figure out his identity.

UCLA coach Terry Donahue jokes with linebacker Jamir Miller (95) before a game at Stanford on Sept. 25, 1993. (Mickey Pfleger/Sports Illustrated via Getty Images)

Jamir Malik Miller — his first and middle names mean royal warrior in Swahili — said he didn’t feel much like a warrior growing up.

“When I was younger I didn’t really like my name because it was different and a lot of people couldn’t pronounce it,” Miller told the Los Angeles Times in 1992. “They mess it up and say ‘Jamal’ and I’d go, ‘No, it’s Jamir .’

“I was in the fourth or fifth grade and I’d come home and say, ‘Mom I hate my name because no one can pronounce it.’ She told me not to worry, that I’d understand it when I grew older.

“I wanted to change my name to something like John. I wish my mother had named me something normal. But I decided to stick with it because that’s my identity. And now I’m glad she didn’t name me something normal.”

John Miller was the name of Jamir’s father. A hardened intravenous drug addict, John’s actions forced Jamir’s mother, Rhonda Hardy, to take him as a 3-month old out of their home in Philadelphia and move in with her mother and sisters in the Bay Area.

Continue reading “No. 95: Jamir Miller”

No. 88: Billy Don Jackson

This is the latest post for an ongoing media project — SoCal Sports History 101: The Prime Numbers from 00 to 99 that Uniformly, Uniquely and Unapologetically Reveal The Narrative of Our Region’s Athletic Heritage.  Pick a number and highlight an athlete — person, place or thing — most obviously connected to it by fame and fortune, someone who isn’t so obvious, and then take a deeper dive into the most interesting story tied to it. It’s a combination of star power, achievement, longevity, notoriety, and, above all, what makes that athlete so Southern California. Quirkiness and notoriety factor in. And it should open itself to more discussion and debate — which is what sports is best at doing.

The most obvious choices for No. 88:
= Tim Rossovich, USC football
= Phil Nevin, Los Angeles Angels manager
= Billy Don Jackson, UCLA football
= Preston Dennard, Los Angeles Rams

The most interesting story for No. 88:
Billy Don Jackson, UCLA defensive lineman/linebacker (1977 to 1979)
Southern California map pinpoints:
Westwood, L.A. Coliseum, Los Angeles Superior Court


All these years later, do you have a better read on what happened to Billy Don Jackson at UCLA in the late 1970s? Even now, it might be wise to review all the evidence.

A heralded high school recruit from football-rich Texas who stepped right in as a freshman starter on Terry Donahue’s UCLA squad, Jackson was voted by his teammates to receive the N.N. Sugarman Perpetual Trophy. It represents the player who exhibited the best spirit and scholarship.

Jackson won that twice. The second time was after his junior season, even after Donahue decided he had to punish him for missing classes with a four-game suspension at the end of the season, sending him to the scout team and effectively ending his college career.

There is also the Jackson who, once he was disengaged from Westwood, stood in Santa Monica Superior Court and heard a judge brand him as a “functional illiterate” during a testy sentencing hearing. Jackson had pleaded no contest to involuntary manslaughter in a botched drug deal.

“This young man cannot even read ‘see Spot run’,” the judge, Charles Woodmansee, continued in his diatribe.

“My God,” added prosecutor Marsh Goldstein, “they brought this kid to one of the top universities in the country and it takes a court order for him to properly to learn to read and write. … Billy Don Jackson is himself a victim — a victim of the shoddy system we call intercollegiate athletes. Hopefully somebody in college sports will learn something from this tragedy.”

Jackson became the humiliating yardstick for everything perceived wrong with college sports and a winning-at-all-costs approach. How someone could spend that long at a major university masquerading as a so-called “student-athlete” was a huge red flag.

UCLA took it as a gut punch. College sports took it as a wake up call, beyond simple damage control.

The truth was, and still is, that Jackson had a pronounced reading disability, similar to dyslexia, that was supposed to be addressed by UCLA’s academic department through tutoring and individual attention. It didn’t happen. Who’s at fault?

The collateral damage is that Jackson would be referenced time and again by those outraged about the exploitation of Black athletics at the expense of an education, setting off a sizeable ripple effect for overdue reform.

“The one consistent exception to the negative images presented of Blacks in the media has been the black male athlete,” UC Berkeley sociologist Harry Edwards said in a 1982 L.A. Times story that particularly used the Jackson case as the cautionary tale. “The message, though subtle, is clear: If you are Black and want respect, justice and equality of opportunity and reward from white America, become an outstanding athlete.”

But it really wasn’t that simple for Jackson, despite what may still linger in the court of public opinion.

The context

The Longview News-Journal, Oct. 5, 1976

Sporting a name that sounded like a country western crooner, Billy Don Jackson was born Jan. 29, 1959 and, though trying circumstances, grew into a highly-sought after, 6-foot-4, 280-pound athlete from Sherman High, about an hour’s drive north of Dallas and not far from the Oklahoma border.

Right in the glare of “Friday Night Lights” in Texas football.

Jackson’s college recruitment drew attention unto itself. Bear Bryant at Alabama and Barry Switzer at Oklahoma came calling. Representatives from all the Texas schools urged him to stay home with all sorts of incentive plans. When Jackson played in the 45th Texas High School Coaches Association North-South game in Dallas, it looked like Southern Methodist had the inside track.

To talk to him meant a physical visit to see his mother, Annie. The two lived with his grandmother in a federal subsided $27-a-month upstairs apartment in a housing project. They had no home telephone. Jackson’s parents divorced when he was 3 and he supported his family working full-time in the summer and part time during school.

“He’s only 17 but he’s probably twice that old,” said his high school coach Ed Hunt in 1977 during that recruiting process. “The things he’s going through right now are easy for him compared to what he’s been through. He’s had times when he’s had to worry about feeding his family.”

Jackson came into all with eyes wide open, as a wire service story reported on how he was processing all the sales pitches.

“These guys won’t tell you they’ll give you a car; they’ll be real subtle,” Jackson said. “A couple of them said they’d take care of my homework, give me a tutor, whatever. Make sure I don’t have to go to class, things like that. That ain’t the life for me. Those schools are out of the running. I don’t give them a second look. My father taught me to appreciate a hard day’s work.”

UCLA, trying to recruit more out-of-state talent after Donahue’s first season as a head coach in Westwood, had someone who Jackson could trust. Billie Matthews, a former quarterback at Southern University who coached high school ball in his native Houston, came to UCLA from Kansas in 1971 with head coach Pepper Rodgers and coached defensive backs for one season before concentrating on the running back position. He spoke Jackson’s language.

Aside from bringing Jackson into L.A. on a trip to show off the sunny weather on a day it had been snowing and dreary in his home town, he had a sit down lunch with then-Los Angeles mayor Tom Bradley, a UCLA alum.

Continue reading “No. 88: Billy Don Jackson”