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Heyward keeps dad in mind at Dome
12/09/2006
By Corey Clark
Staff Writer
[email protected]
They are memories that will always stay with him. Ones he will hang on to as tight as he can for the rest of his life.
And as he recalls them now, some 10 years later, he can?t help but smile.
Cameron Heyward is grown now, not just in size ? he is a sensational 6-foot-6, 265-pound defensive lineman for Peachtree Ridge ? but in a maturity that goes way beyond his high school age.
He?s had to deal with a tragedy that thankfully most of his teammates and classmates won?t be forced to tackle for decades.
But this week ? especially this week ? it?s impossible for him not to think about.
There he is as a 7-year-old. Sitting in the front row of the Georgia Dome, wearing the jersey of his all-time favorite Atlanta Falcon.
The game has just ended and he sees his father, All-Pro running back Craig ?Ironhead? Heyward, walking toward him.
Father and son are not only wearing the same jersey, they?re wearing the same smile.
Craig reaches into the stands and lifts his son, who is about 21D2 feet smaller and 200 pounds lighter than he is now, and brings him down on the field and into the locker room with him.
It?s a great memory for Cameron.
?Yeah, that?s my favorite one,? Cameron said, wearing the famous Heyward smile.
It was a decade before Cameron would become one of the best defensive linemen in the country, and before he would be recruited by national collegiate powers like Florida, LSU, Georgia and Ohio State.
And it was before Cameron had any idea what a recurring brain tumor was and before he would be rocked with the realization that his dad wasn?t Superman, that he wasn?t more powerful than a locomotive no matter how many defensive backs he steamrolled to the Georgia Dome turf.
On May 27 of this year, Craig Heyward died.
He left behind a massive son, with massive grief, who like so many teenagers who lose a parent is still coping with the terrible loss.
Ten years ago, Cameron was in the stands in the Georgia Dome watching in awe as his powerful father destroyed unlucky safeties who got in his way.
Tonight, as luck ? or fate ? would have it, Cameron will be back in the Georgia Dome, wearing shoes that have ?Ironhead? written on them, playing on the same field that his father starred on a decade ago, trying to lead his upstart Lions to a berth in the state championship game.
Sometimes life really does come full circle.
?Right after the game (against Stephenson in the quarterfinals), I started thinking about it,? Heyward said of returning to his father?s old stomping ground. ?It?s kind of nice knowing I?m going back to where he used to play, and kind of coming closer to him.?
When 7-year-old Cameron was running around on the Georgia Dome turf after a game, he didn?t truly understand the everlasting effect it would have on him.
?I didn?t realize it was that big of a thing,? Heyward said. ?I just thought it was that my dad wanted to hang out with me. Now, I realize that it meant a lot more and it was also beneficial to see how everything worked.?
Especially tonight when his Lions take on Warner Robins at 9 p.m. for a spot in the Class AAAAA state championship game.
Peachtree Ridge, which came into the playoffs as a No. 4 seed out of Region 7-AAAAA, has played inspired football the last three weeks, taking its cue from its inspirational leader.
In the preseason, Heyward dedicated the season to his father, and he has responded with a terrific season ? racking up 111 total tackles and 13 sacks, incredible numbers for a defensive tackle.
That type of production is one of the main reasons he has become a national recruit, who has narrowed his college choices to Ohio State, Florida, LSU and Georgia.
It?s also one of the main reasons he has been a team leader since he joined the program last year, after transferring from Whitefield Academy to be closer to his father, who by then was bound to a wheelchair because of the tumor.
?He?s a great leader, a great hustler,? said Peachtree Ridge head coach Blair Armstrong. ?He rallies the troops. He keeps them fired up ... and especially in the playoffs he has really stepped up.
?He sees the importance of these games and he just (has) gone out there and dominated.?
Kind of like the old man used to do in college and the NFL. Heyward knows that as long as he is playing football, he will be referred to as ?Craig Heyward?s son.? He doesn?t mind that reality, but he also wants to make a name for himself.
?I never wanted to be in my dad?s shadow,? he said. ?That?s one of the reasons why I never wanted to go to Pittsburgh, because I see it as my dad?s spot. Not mine. It?s good to break off, but I still want to keep him in my heart. And he?s always going to be there with me.?
Like those precious memories after the Falcons? games, when the two Heywards would walk off the Georgia Dome field together, hand in hand, with the son holding on to the father as tight as he possibly could.
Peachtree Ridge's Heyward still feels dad's presence
By CARROLL ROGERS
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Published on: 12/08/06
Sometimes in the locker room before a game, Peachtree Ridge coach Blair Armstrong will see senior defensive tackle Cameron Heyward lost in thought and know exactly what — and who — is on his mind.
In the six months since Heyward's father, former NFL star Craig "Ironhead" Heyward, died of a recurring brain tumor, people don't often know what to say. But in moments like these, Armstrong has the perfect words.
"I know what you're thinking, buddy," Armstrong will lean down and say. "He's watching."
Only those who have lost their fathers can know how comforting those words are. Only they know how heart-wrenching it must be to know your dad is no longer there, like he was when you took your first few rotations on a bike, your first dive into a pool or your first tackle in youth football.
Who ever really outgrows that need to say, "Hey Dad, watch me"?
It will be on Heyward's mind this weekend at the Georgia Dome. Peachtree Ridge is one of 20 teams playing in the state semifinals, with the Lions facing Warner Robins at 9 p.m. Saturday in the AAAAA semis.
Armstrong still has that longing, too, even after all this time. He's 53. It's been almost 40 years since his father died of a heart attack he suffered while in the stands at a high school football game, watching Armstrong play quarterback.
His father, a former high school and college assistant coach, had asked that his son not be told right away. Armstrong didn't find out until after the game.
"All the guys in the huddle were tearing up," Armstrong said. "We were losing 7-6, and I was like 'Gosh, I know it's a mess, but we still have a chance to win.' "
First came numbness, Armstrong said, then the questions about why.
The same questions were still fresh for Heyward the first time he saw Armstrong after his father died in May. He didn't know the story about Armstrong's father until the office door closed that day in the Peachtree Ridge field house and the tears started rolling.
Their coach-player relationship changed that day, and so did the course of Heyward's grief. And at age 17, when few of his friends could relate to what he was going through, Heyward found someone he could turn to, someone who knew.
"It's almost like God put him here to help me," Heyward said. "He knew that I couldn't do that on my own."
Both Heyward and Armstrong are in their second season at Peachtree Ridge. Heyward had transferred from Whitefield Academy to be closer to where his dad, who was in a wheelchair by then, could see him play. Armstrong took over a 2-16 program, which had severed ties with its former coach only two years into its existence.
Now the two head into the Georgia Dome riding a 10-3 run on the muscle of a defensive unit anchored by Heyward, a top Division I prospect at 6-6, 280 pounds with 13 sacks. Together they show the power of what can happen when sons who've lost their fathers reach out to each other.
For Armstrong, quitting high school football was never an option. The football community is what rallied around him. But Heyward said he gave it some serious consideration over the summer.
"I wanted to be by myself and my friends and my family," Heyward said.
He went through a dark couple of weeks, spending time in his room, looking at clippings from a newspaper story about his father's funeral. He tried to make sense of a photograph that showed his father in a casket with his framed Pro Bowl jersey displayed nearby.
Over time, though, Heyward knew he needed to go back, even without his father. His mother reminded him sports was what he loves, Heyward said, and not to throw it away. "Snap and go," is what his dad had always taught him. Leave the last play behind and keep moving.
"I had to realize I can still show my dad things that will make him proud of me," Heyward said.
The first game back was the hardest, Heyward said, but he found strength in what he remembers Armstrong telling him afterward: "We're all here for you and we want you to succeed. We don't just care for you because of your ability, but for the person inside."
Heyward plays with his dad's nickname, "Ironhead," written on his shoe and spelled out over the knuckles of his gloves. He takes comfort in knowing his last words to his father were, "I love you, too" before he left for a basketball camp.
He'll have to grow up faster now. As he knows from Armstrong, it won't be easy.
"The only way to heal is to go through the process," Armstrong said.
The most emotional night of the season has come and gone. It was senior night, the night Heyward's dad had set as a rehabilitation goal to be able to walk onto the field with his son. That night his friends honored that wish and Heyward's loss by standing at the 34-yard line, "Ironhead's" old number.
Saturday night will be different. The Georgia Dome is where Heyward's dad played his 1995 Pro Bowl season with the Falcons and Cameron watched as a boy from the stands. It's the place where his father was his healthiest and strongest and most like the photo Heyward keeps in his locker.
He won't have to wonder whether his dad is watching Saturday night. He'll feel his presence.
"I'm going to be following in his footsteps," Heyward said. "It feels like I'm coming closer and closer to him."