Roger Craig of the San Francisco 49ers runs against the Atlanta Falcons while tight end Jamie Williams (81) helps clear his path on Sept. 23, 1990 at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.
David Madison/Getty Images
The San Francisco 49ers were about to become world champions on Jan. 28, 1990, and Roger Craig and Jamie Wiliams were off in their own world. Of course they were.
They’d started developing their shared lexicon more than two decades earlier when their friendship began in Davenport, Iowa. Roger, in second grade, lived on Eighth Street. Jamie, four months older, was on Ninth. Roger’s future wife, Vanessa, was a few football fields away.
Jefferson Elementary School. J.B. Young Junior High. Davenport Central High School. The University of Nebraska. The 49ers. All of it, together.
Jamie was in that huddle near the end of the 49ers’ 55-10 win over the Broncos in Super Bowl XXIV after he’d had a free-agent choice to make months earlier: The Patriots or 49ers? He chose Roger. Years earlier, Roger had faced a college choice: Nebraska or Iowa? He chose Jamie. They were roommates in Lincoln.
In the huddle, Roger was excitedly talking to Jamie about the coaches who had shaped them. Did Jamie think Nebraska’s Tom Osborne was watching? Then Roger began reciting a line from their high school coach, Jim Fox. Jamie finished it. Joe Montana interrupted: What are you guys talking about? The dudes from Davenport smiled.
“The joke was always on everybody else because they didn’t know what we knew,” Williams said. “They didn’t know Goose Hollow. They didn’t know Whitey’s Ice Cream. They didn’t know what the Mississippi River looked like where we lived. ‘We’re from the Quad Cities, dude. You haven’t been there? Too bad.’”
Nebraska's Turner Gill, left, Roger Craig, center, and Jamie Williams before the Cornhuskers boarded a flight to Honolulu for a game at Hawaii in December 1982.
Nebraska's Turner Gill, left, Roger Craig, center, and Jamie Williams before the Cornhuskers boarded a flight to Honolulu for a game at Hawaii in December 1982.
On Saturday, in Canton, Ohio, another former Midwestern factory town, Craig and Williams, both 66, will carry their shared, nearly six-decade-old journey into football immortality. Williams will present Craig for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the bruising, blocking tight end again leading the way for the high-stepping running back.
Williams will stand onstage with his best friend when Craig’s bust is unveiled. What will he feel in that moment? Williams said he didn’t know.
Then he became emotional.
“You can’t write the script,” he said. “Facts get stranger than fiction. Somebody lives half a block from you, and you start out down by the docks trying to catch catfish. Then you both go on this long journey in life.”
Montana wasn’t the first future Hall of Fame player who wondered what was up with Craig and Williams. In 1983, at the Hula Bowl in Honolulu, Pittsburgh quarterback Dan Marino and SMU running back Eric Dickerson were fascinated by the inseparable Nebraska teammates.
“They couldn’t get their heads around the fact that we were two Black guys from Iowa,” Williams said. “Marino was like, ‘Man that sounds so boring. What did you all do?’ Then I started going down the list and they got jealous.”
They rode horses. Fished. Roller-skated. Blasted the Jackson Five. They hid Roger in the trunk on trips to the drive-in, saving the admission money for candy.
And they also excelled in athletics. Davenport won a football state title when they were in high school. As a senior, Craig rushed for 1,565 yards and 27 touchdowns, went to the Iowa wrestling championships and finished second in the state in the 110 and 400 hurdles.
But Craig was among a host of elite athletes at a school with a powerhouse athletic program. Williams said five other Division I athletes grew up in the same neighborhood. Roger played in the shadow of his older brother, Curtis, a running back at Nebraska. Unlike Williams, he wasn’t a Parade All-American.
Craig, in other words, wasn’t the most obvious candidate for professional stardom. Unlike some of his peers, however, he didn’t skip class or smoke Marlboros after practice. Williams and Craig often reminisce about classmates who didn’t make it. While others coasted, Craig suffered.
Before he was with the 49ers and running “The Hill,” a famed lung-burning 2.5-mile path in Edgewood Park near Redwood City, Craig was pushing himself on the hills of Goose Hollow, a sprawling open field in Davenport.
“Some guys who were better than him at the time rested on their laurels,” Williams said. “Roger didn’t.”
Craig waited 27 years to reach Canton after he became eligible for induction. If the lone criteria was work ethic, he would have been a first-ballot Hall of Famer.
In the offseasons, Craig worked out five days a week, starting at 6:30 a.m., beginning four weeks after the 49ers’ season ended. Track work. Weight room. Three days of hill work. Craig’s trainer, Raymond Farris, calls Craig “Mr. Football” due to his devotion. Craig would be so eager to start their early morning sessions that Farris would often need to remind him: “Roger, you have to stretch.”
Jerry Rice is synonymous with “The Hill,” but he learned how to conquer it from Craig, a 1983 second-round pick who arrived two years before Rice was drafted.
“I’ll never forget the first day Jerry showed up and he couldn’t do it,” Farris said. “He hurt so badly afterward that he didn’t come back for the rest of that offseason.”
Cornerback Eric Wright, who was drafted in 1981, was motivated by his younger teammate’s example: “I mean, he was just such a beast.” Safety Tom Holmoe, a member of Craig’s draft class, said Craig and Rice epitomized the culture of a franchise that won five Super Bowls in a 14-season span.
“I do not remember him ever taking a (practice) rep at anything less than full speed,” Holmoe said. “And when (his career) was over, he had used up every ounce of gas in that tank, every single drop.”
Hall of Fame safety Ronnie Lott, famed for his ferocity, has said he never played with anyone more “intense about the game of football.” Craig, who ran marathons in retirement, rarely stopped running. He sprinted to the end zone every time he touched the ball in practice. He even ran headlong into the most hellish part of the season.
“Roger was the only guy who loved training camp and looked forward to it,” wide receiver Mike Wilson said. “I dreaded going to Rocklin. I would be like, ‘Roger, really? You’ve got to be kidding me, man.’”
The work produced historic results and helped redefine the running back position. In 1985, Craig became the first NFL player to gain 1,000 yards rushing and receiving in the same season. In 1988, he was named the NFL’s Offensive Player of the Year. He retired as the league’s career leader among running backs in receptions (566) and receiving yards (4,911).
Craig and Williams did not reunite as teammates until 1989, when Craig recruited Williams to San Francisco as both were entering their seventh NFL season. Much had changed since their days as All-Big Eight selections at Nebraska. Craig had become one of the NFL’s best players. Williams, whose 12-year career included 181 receptions and stints with six teams, had become a blue-collar blocker.
Yet their dynamic remained the same during their two seasons in San Francisco: Williams, four months older, was still pointing the way. With the 49ers, Craig still trusted Williams to know where the opening would be.
“Growing up together gave us such a trust and understanding,” Williams said. “We could look at each other and communicate without saying much. If he was having trouble, I would tell him, ‘I know the play is designed for over there, but find me. There will be a hole.’ That’s one of the things I loved about him. He was fierce, but he was almost innocent in the way he approached it. There was no prima-donna attitude.”
At Nebraska, Craig became so excited on game-day mornings that he sometimes shook Williams out of bed. During games, that same eagerness sometimes kept him from allowing runs to develop.
In a 1981 victory over Florida State, Craig blasted into the line on an unsuccessful quick draw. Williams told him to pause. Take a beat. Give him time to clear out the inside linebacker. Craig resisted, worried the coach would get mad if he hesitated.
Later, they ran the same play. Same result. On the third quick draw, Craig finally paused.
Williams made his block, and Craig burst through a cavernous hole for a 94-yard touchdown.
“On the sideline, he said, ‘You were right. How did you know that?’” Williams said. “I told him, ‘You have to do your own thing, but you have to give me time to do my thing.’”
Forty-five years later, their roles remain unchanged: Williams will go first Saturday.
He has done it before. In 2011, Williams presented Craig for induction into the 49ers Hall of Fame. But he assumed one of Craig’s five grown children or Vanessa, his wife of 43 years, would be asked to present him in Canton.
Roger Craig was honored in 2011 at Candlestick Park when he was inducted into the 49ers' Hall of Fame. From left, Craig’s son, Rogdrick; Jamie Williams; Williams' daughter, Raven; Craig and Craig’s son, Alexander.
Courtesy Jamie Williams
Craig chose Jamie.
The choice echoed the one Williams made in 1989. The Patriots had offered to help him enter a graduate journalism program at a nearby Ivy League school — an enticing possibility for a man who would earn an M.S., an Ed.D. and an MBA.
“I was thinking, ‘Harvard or Roger?’” Williams said. “I chose Roger.”
Of course he did.
Announcer Mike Krukow speaks to those gathered to honor Willie Mays before the Giants played the Chicago Cubs at Oracle Park in San Francisco, on Monday, June 24, 2024.
Announcer Mike Krukow speaks to those gathered to honor Willie Mays before the Giants played the Chicago Cubs at Oracle Park in San Francisco, on Monday, June 24, 2024.