Clay Henry: No one will ever fill it out like Mallett

By Clay Henry

The word on the street (or in the woods, lakes or rivers — after all it was Baxter County) had it that Ryan Mallett would become an assistant football coach at Mountain Home High School.

There had been no official word. But I got it second hand from, of all sources, my wife Jean Ann.

She works out daily in a tiny fitness gym near Walmart. She came back to our home in Norfork in the winter of 2020 with the news.

“Ryan Mallett was working out next to me,” she said. “I think he’s going to be a new coach for the Bombers.”

Well, it seemed right. The best bomber in Arkansas Razorback football history would coach Bombers.

I asked my wife if she identified herself as my wife? She didn’t, but did the next day.

Mallett picked her up in a big bear hug and swung her around. That was Ryan Mallett to a T. He wanted to hug you. Just as much as his fans wanted to reach out and touch the 6-7 giant of a man, he pulled them in. He wrapped his arm around fans for pictures. He hugged old friends.

Jean Ann is a shade under 5-2. They made quite a sight working out each day at that little gym. Of course, Ryan still thought someone in a professional league somewhere might call for another fling at football. He was ready, healthy and willing. It did happen briefly that summer in a lower league.

My relationship with Mallett is different than most. I’ve been around him through the years thanks to a relationship with Wayne Reed, a top lieutenant at Lexicon Steel. He’s close to a manager role at Steel Wings, the fabulous duck club near Carlisle built by Lexicon founder Tom Schueck.

Mallett always seemed to be there when I’d roll in every January for a week, or two weekends, sometimes three. It was his happy place. His first cousin was married to Jay Hauk, field superintendent at Steel Wings.

So Mallett and I would hunt, eat breakfast and sometimes hang out talking outdoor stuff or football until the late hours. Mallett stayed in Jay’s house, even when he once brought a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.

It was in those late days of his NFL career that Mallett seemed to be rounding into the man that matched his size. It wasn’t the finished product. There was still some boy that oozed out, but less and less.

By the time he landed in Mountain Home, it seemed that he was a full fledged man. He benefited from constant counseling from leadership around the Mountain Home educational system, especially the athletic department.

The players at Mountain Home loved Mallett. He wasn’t easy on them, but because he had unbelievable street cred, they took his yelling.

I talked to Arkansas baseball legend Scott Tabor on Wednesday. Tabor is my insurance man in Mountain Home. His son Dawson, pitching in junior college now, played tight end during Mallett’s time with the Bombers.

“He yelled at them the same way Bobby Petrino yelled at him, but most of our kids liked it,” Tabor said. “Dawson sure did.

“They would play catch before and after practice and Dawson would tell him to give him everything he had. He wanted to see it. Ryan told him he was too slow to play college football, but that he had better hands than his tight ends in the NFL. They had fun.

“The kids at Mountain Home had Ryan’s cell phone number and they continued to text him until he passed this week. Dawson texted him last week. All the Mountain Home kids pulled for White Hall.

“What you have heard from the people at White Hall about Ryan growing up we saw here. It was happening and we all knew it. He was excited when he left here to be a head coach and we all were excited for him. He was going to make an impact in that community the way he did in Mountain Home.”

Ryan and I talked about the maturation process in the men’s grill at Big Creek Country Club when we crossed paths on golf outings. My golf buddies were always fired up when Mallett might cross two fairways in his golf cart — generally playing solo — for a 15-minute visit. He’d always start it with a quick jump to my cart where he’d pull me out for a hug.

That was just Mallett. He was a hugger. He pulled you tight.

We had a grand visit on the phone just four weeks ago for a story I wrote for Hawgs Illustrated about his transition to head coach at White Hall High. He thought year two was going to be a breakthrough after winning just four games in his first try as a head coach. His goal was to win state titles there.

“We’ve got everyone back and even our backups,” Mallett said. “And, there is a lot of retention in what I saw this spring from year one. We have a complex offense, a little of everything I’ve learned from Bobby Petrino and the NFL.

“As far as people saying I am now a man, it’s about time. I’m halfway to 70. It had to happen sometime.”

Mallett preferred talking football instead of about himself. He learned football from the best. He was among the best I’ve ever seen at avoiding hits. He understood checks for protection.

“I never understand when I see quarterbacks getting hit,” he said. “You can take care of yourself at the line of scrimmage. You can slide protection.

“But as far as Arkansas goes, I had a good offensive line. They could keep you clean and we were good at changing our blocking schemes and our checks, sliding the protection to the pressure. It’s not that hard.”

That wasn’t what you noticed with Mallett, that he wasn’t often crunched. It was that frame and long arms. He was incredibly long for a quarterback. I don’t remember anyone with more length anywhere in football.

Then there was the way he could spin the football. In all my time covering football — and that’s almost 50 seasons — there were only a handful to compare with what Mallett could do as far as arm strength.

Joe Ferguson had the same kind of arm. It was awesome. Tarvaris Jackson wasn’t as accurate as either Ferguson or Mallett, but he could spin a line drive with them. I saw Troy Aikman play in high school and during his first year at Oklahoma, then for UCLA against Arkansas in the Cotton Bowl. He threw it hard and well, too.

They had zip and the way the ball spun created sound. I called what they threw the hummer. I believe all broke fingers in their time in college and the NFL. If the ball went by you on the sideline, you heard it.

My phone blew up Tuesday afternoon when it became clear that something bad had happened to Mallett in the waters off Destin. I knew he was vacationing there because he posted a picture from the beach on Monday night on Facebook.

My thoughts were simple: good for Ryan. He needs some time off because he’s about to hit the grind of the football season. I knew I’d see him when it was over, hunting at Steel Wings.

Then it hit, those awful messages, first from Reed. He’d talked to a Mallett relative. I knew it was serious. I wept.

I know people all over Arkansas did, too. It was the same kind of sadness that hit when I heard about the death of Brandon Burlsworth. His 77 was eventually retired. I’m wondering if the same thing should be done with Ryan’s No. 15. No one can ever fill it out like Mallett. I’m biased because I loved Ryan, but it makes sense.

Ryan Mallett was a Razorback hero and legend. He has many UA records and he’d have them all if he played more than two years like some ahead of him.

Dang, I’m going to miss those big hugs. They were something else.

I’m so sad in some ways, but happy in one small way: I know that big, long dude walking through the Pearly Gates made it there as a man, a leader of young boys. That’s a better ending than some imagined only a few years ago.