For Chucky

As this particular weekend draws to a close, I find myself thinking of the next weekend to come. For me, and many friends I know, this will include watching the Ole Miss vs. Vanderbilt football game.

This particular match up always brings up memories, as I am a Mississippi native but have lived in Nashville for around fifteen years. I think of many fun road trips to the away the games in Tennessee during my college days with friends, my twenty- seventh birthday in which the game fell on the exact date and resulted in quite the yard party on Belmont Boulevard in Nashville, how no matter where each team is ranked that year it usually seems to be a good game, and of course, I think of Roy Lee “Chucky” Mullins.

For those who don’t follow college sports, SEC football history, or athletics at all, you may not know who I am speaking of. But for every born Mississippian, especially Ole Miss fans, and most Nashvillians, no introduction is necessary. You see, Chucky Mullins was, is, and always will be, the heart and soul of Ole Miss Football. And it was during the Ole Miss vs. Vanderbilt game in 1989 that this young man sustained a life altering injury, leaving his life forever changed as a quadriplegic. Looking back, it’s hard for me to think of just how young he really was, as Chucky was playing as a red shirt freshman defensive back.

I was eight years old at the time of Chucky’s accident. We had not made the roughly two hour drive from Jackson up to Oxford that day. Most likely it was because my father could never handle the stress of each Saturday matchup to commit to season tickets. Besides, his anxiety over the Rebs usually peaked by halftime, and unless we were up by two touchdowns, we would be leaving the stadium early.

I do, however, vividly remember Chucky’s accident. We always had the game on in our living room during those years. It was constant Saturday background noise- a low hum of whistles, tackles, and announcers providing game day feedback with their most polished southern accents. My father’s high school football coach had become the head coach for the Rebels, and we didn’t want to miss anything ole Billy Brewer was doing. That particular day, the Ole Miss vs. Vanderbilt game switched to another game before Chucky’s fateful hit. I figure it was a blessing, to spare us all from witnessing the terrifying moment. At some point, the channel switched back, and the news was delivered regarding Chucky Mullins. He had been airlifted to Memphis with life threatening injuries.

As any good southern family does in a statewide crisis, we took to our religion and prayed. I remember the next morning begrudgingly sitting in the creaky, wooden pew of my church, listening to the preacher pray for Chucky while asking the congregation to bow their heads and silently join in. When I returned home, I found the small, white bible I received for being dedicated to the church as an infant and did what I thought I any good southern girl was supposed to do. I wrote my prayers for Chucky inside the pages of my sacred book, and continued to do so as he fought the fight in Memphis. After all, I had seen the hand written notes in my mother and grandmother’s bible my whole life so I figured it must work some sort of miracle. I’d like to believe the whole state, maybe the whole country, was doing the same thing at that time. Even President George H.W. Bush made a visit to Chucky’s hospital bed. Oh, and Janet Jackson visited as well. A Jackson and a Bush- even my eight year old self knew that was big.

As the tragic story continued, Chucky never regained feeling below his neck. He rehabbed with fierce determination and began his new life confined to a wheelchair- a far cry from days of football practices, scrimmages, and games. However, from many documentaries I’ve watched and stories I have read, the unfortunate event never changed his attitude. Chucky returned to college and adjusted to his new life, never complaining but always remaining uplifting and encouraging to others. As an adult, it completely blows my mind how someone that young persevered through all the challenges he faced. I can’t say that I would have been near as strong. But alas, life deals us certain hands, and it’s up to us to choose how we play them. In the heartbreaking ending to his story, Chucky suffered a fatal pulmonary embolism in 1991. Although, is wasn’t his ending.

To this day, Chucky remains a constant presence at the Vaught- Hemingway Stadium at Ole Miss, around campus, and on the field with every team member and fan in Oxford, Mississippi. Before each game, the players rub the head of a bronze bust of Chucky every time they take the field. Below it, a simple statement reads “Never Quit.” One of the main streets through campus bears his name. His retired jersey rests between the two other Ole Miss Football legends, Archie and Eli Manning, for all to see. And each year, a deserving defensive player, who is chosen by the coaching staff, representatives from the athletic department, university staff, campus organizations, and the Oxford community, is presented the Chucky Mullins Courage Award- an achievement held to the highest caliber for many obvious reasons.

So, as we approach the new week and look forward to the next weekend, let’s remember Roy Lee “Chucky” Mullins as the young men of Ole Miss and Vanderbilt take the field for yet another yearly SEC football matchup- even if you’re not watching. Let’s remember that there was once a young man who, in fact, never quit, and touched the lives of a nation through his gritty and positive spirit of endurance. Remember that in an instance, life can drastically change, and that it truly is what you make it. And if you’re ever around a southern woman’s bible, perhaps take a look to see if his name is written throughout the pages.

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