By Tom Mattingly
AUTHOR’S PREFACE: In my quest to identify Tennessee football’s “Best of the Best, By the Numbers,” sometimes the best selection is clear-cut, e.g. linebacker Steve Kiner (1967-69) for No. 57 or Hacksaw Reynolds (1967-69) for No. 64. Other times, you might have to pick a 1 or 1a, as in this case. When I looked at the players who wore No. 27 over the years, the two best were linebacker and captain Aldra Kauwa Wilson (1995-98) and tailback and Heisman runner-up Francis Edward (Hank) Lauricella (1949-51). No other Vol player was even close. Both were All-American selections on national championship teams. Both were acknowledged leaders of their respective teams. Lauricella was a tailback, Wilson a linebacker. Both are members of the College Football Hall of Fame.
For the Tennessee Volunteers, the path to the 1998 national championship was a circuitous one, with a number of stumbling blocks along the way that might have decimated a lesser team. See for example the Syracuse, Florida, Auburn, Arkansas, Mississippi State, and Florida State games as prime examples. Those games could very easily have gone the other way. The margin of victory was that small.
There were powerful critics poised on the edge of their seats, waiting for the Vols to fold, to prove their time on the national stage was a mirage.
That didn’t happen.
When the spring game took place on April 18, 1998, fans, media, and coaches alike cited a number of question marks about the team, specifically the number of key players to be replaced. Gone were such notables as Peyton Manning, Marcus Nash, Terry Fair, Jonathan Brown, Trey Teague, Leonard Little, and others.
To be truthful, no one really knew this team was cut from championship cloth. The delightful thing about college football, however, is the constant state of renewal, when previously unknown or inexperienced players step forward to make significant contributions.
Looking back, there are times one player becomes the personification, the face of the entire team. In 1998, that player, that leader, was Al Wilson, the senior linebacker from Jackson, who literally “willed” the Vols to the national crown.
“When Al Wilson spoke,” wrote Marvin West, “he sounded as if he meant business.”
Wilson was a dominating defender (West called him a “fierce hitter with an overflow of intensity”), who had no quit in him. He was the glue, the man who held the team together.
As the season progressed, fans all across Big Orange Country started believing good things were about to happen. You couldn’t explain it, but you could feel it. The bigger the hurdle, the more and better the Vols responded.
Wilson’s mantra was a simple one: “Stay hungry.”
“As one of the team captains that year, I took it on myself to assume the leadership role that had been vacated when Peyton Manning and Leonard Little both graduated,” said Wilson. “Nobody knew who would step up and take over. I decided I was going to lead the team to be the best we could be.”
The key word was “team.”
“We weren’t separated by offense or defense. It was my job to go out there and lead by example with the hope the team would feed off it. The whole season was a highlight of my life.”
What was Al Wilson’s influence, his legacy? He expected a great deal from himself first, then a great deal from his teammates. He earned their respect.
Wilson exercised great leadership in the 1997 SEC title game in the locker room at halftime. The Vols trailed Auburn at the half, 21-10. Things did not look good for the Vols until Al took over. After a brief discussion of his disdain for losing, Al “named names” and spared no one in his analysis of the Vols’ first half performance, captains Peyton Manning and Leonard Little included. To say it was “scorched earth” would be an understatement.
Wide receiver Peerless Price said, “It was the greatest of speeches, one never to be forgotten.”
When you think about the 1998 team, think of Al Wilson and a team that never gave up, never gave in, despite the obstacles in their path. The team fed off his energy.
You could say that Lauricella was the best offensive player who wore No. 27, with Wilson being the best defensive player who donned that number. That might be an acceptable compromise.
In 1998, on the road to a national title, it all started in spring practice. It all happened under the leadership of Al Wilson.
No one knows the exact moment a team becomes a team destined for great success. All the little pieces have to fall together in exactly the right way. Sometimes it happens when you least expect it. For Wilson, it was a classic case of the man meeting the moment and the moment meeting the man.
