Sept. 28, 2009
By SKIP MYSLENSKI, NUsports.com Special Contributor
The father grew up in the Oklahoma town of Enid, where his brothers were farm hands who constantly tinkered with trucks, and he remembered the value of this honest labor even after he moved East and settled in Pittsburgh and started raising his two boys. Always, from the earliest of ages, they spent some of their weekends helping him with chores around their house and then, when they got older, he pushed them to work on his own car and truck.
He would pay them, too, pay them a bit to do an oil change and even more to do a brake job. "He'd give me 200 bucks for a brake job," remembers one of those boys, the now-grown-up 'Cat middle linebacker Nate Williams. "But that still saved him a lot of money."
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That also infused him with an interest that would only grow and so later, when he was a senior in high school, here is what he did when he was given some money to purchase his own car. He bought a salvage-title Prelude, which is a fancy name for a heap, and proceeded to soup up that Honda cosmetically, which is all his budget allowed.
He, then, had some grit and grease and grime coursing through his veins when he landed in Evanston, yet now his avocation would have to be ignored, would have to be set aside in deference to the demands of a high-powered education and an equally high-powered football program. Not until last summer, in fact, was his latent interest rekindled, which is just what happened when his younger brother Quentin, now a 'Cat defensive end, purchased a Moped from the former receiver Ross Lane.
This was a nice little ride and, after he tried it, Nate Williams thought, "It's fun."
Immediately, though, a postscript also popped into his head and it whispered, "But it's not enough."
That pushed him, soon enough, to go in search of a real hog and, less than a month later, there it was on Craig's List, an '81 Kawasaki 750. He had, after a summer working for a private capital firm at the Board of Trade, "A decent amount of money to blow a little bit of it, at least. . .
"It's sporty for its era, I guess you can say. It's pretty close to having vintage plates, I think. But it's a project, more than anything. It runs well, but doesn't look great. I got the bike with two big tubs of parts, spare parts. So I've been piecing it together, just doing my thing."
There are, in fact, many pieces to Nate Williams, the junior who missed the 'Cats' loss at Syracuse with a banged-up knee. He had damaged it while making a tackle against Eastern Michigan, rehabbed through the week that followed and even warmed up that Saturday night in the Carrier Dome. "But it just wasn't 100 percent and I didn't want to go out there and not give my full effort. It's very frustrating, especially after watching our guys not pull it out. But you've got to coach 'em up and do what you can from the sidelines."
And this weekend against Minnesota?
"I'm going to try, try. I'll practice tomorrow and see how it goes."
It is Monday afternoon as he offers this prognosis and that means a final decision is yet far away. But his optimism, his belief that he will heal and soon enough engage in battle, well, that is surely the mark of both his position and that place that spawned him. The first, of course, demands a toughness, a grit as real as the stuff that decorates his hands when he works on his bike, and the second, too, is renowned for an attitude that tolerates no slackers.
That is the still the character of the former Steel City, no matter that it has refashioned itself as a high-tech center, and that is the character long ago imbued in Nate Williams, who grew up enthralled with that former Steeler battering ram named Jerome Bettis. "I liked his style of play, running guys over," he explains. "That's how I wanted to play if I ever played running back and it is how I played when I was in high school."
Is there a Pittsburgh tradition to playing that way, he is asked.
"I think there is, for sure," he quickly says. "It's a football culture around there and it's really blue collar, especially in the city areas, and it definitely filters down through high school. Up until a couple years ago, everybody liked to run the football, run pro. . . Everyone in high school football in Pittsburgh runs first and throws later. . .and you see amazing defense (with the Steelers) from the time you're born. That's the image of how football's supposed to be played. It's strap your shoes up and go after them."
Sort of like a motorcyclist does?
"The motorcycle culture is kind of fitting to Pittsburgh type of people," he agrees, but then he chuckles. "At least the outsider's image."
Williams himself, of course, hardly resembles a Hell's Angel and, in fact, has yet to even take his hog onto a highway or out at night or up to full speed. (He has no license, just a permit.) He usually rides only after tinkering so he can check out the adjustments he has made ("I've been to Auto Zone a lot this past couple of months."), yet even a journey so innocent can lead to problems. "My fuel line broke," he remembers ruefully.
"It was getting gas, but not enough of it. It had a little bit of a leak and the battery eventually died out because I kept trying to throttle it. It was a weird little thing. I was up north. I was actually by a bunch of our o-linemen's house. I had to walk it over to their house."
Did they give you a lot of grief for that?
"Nah. Not too much."
Earlier, while discussing his joy of riding, he had said, "It's nice to get out for a little bit." So now, as this discussion meanders toward a close, he is tossed a quote about cycling, the one that says, "Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul."
"That hits home a little bit," Nate Williams agrees. "It's a full-feel experience when you ride. In a car, it's more of a comfort thing. With a bike, you kind of cruise. It's exciting. Sunsets."
Then, finally, one more quote, this one declaring, "Whatever it is, it's better in the wind."
"That's true," he says, and now he runs his hand over his head.
"And kind of why I grew my hair out too," he adds, and now he laughs.
But, he is asked, you do wear a helmet?
"Yeah, yeah. I wear a helmet. That's the first lecture I got from everybody I talked to," he avers, yet now he is laughing again.
"But every now and then. . .," he finally concludes mischievously, ever the Pittsburgh linebacker infused with grit and grease and grime and, clearly, a bit of spit-and-vinegar too.
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