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NFL prospect Anderson takes lead from deaf educator dad - USATODAY.com
Jamaal Anderson's relatives can be forgiven for talking with their hands full. When the family gathers for dinner, conversation flies in two ways — verbally and in American Sign Language. A little barbecue sauce flavors the meal, lingers on the fingers and adds zest to the joking and debating.
Anderson, 21, is one of the top-rated defensive ends in the NFL draft, which commences Saturday in New York. His family and friends will gather at the Peabody Hotel in Little Rock to celebrate the dawn of his pro career.
He'll enjoy the cheers from the well-wishers while relishing the deaf version of applause — hands in the air, shaking at the wrists — when his name is announced. His father, deaf since he was 6 from medication given to treat pneumonia, will be there to congratulate his son.
The Andersons, tight and inclusive as a family, work their own bilingual magic to stay connected.
"I've had dreams where I've been signing," Anderson says. "I've been doing it since as far back as I can remember. It's just natural now."
He uses his hands pretty well in some of his other dreams, too. After a Southeastern Conference-high 131/2 sacks for the University of Arkansas as a junior, he decided to turn pro and should be among the first defensive linemen selected.
Not that coming out early was an easy choice or one that initially pleased his father, Glenn, who directs the Rehabilitation Research and Training Center for Persons who are Deaf or Hard of Hearing at the University of Arkansas. His disability did not keep him from earning his doctorate at New York University in 1982, achieving his goals or becoming a husband and father of two.
"He's a great man," says Anderson, a sociology major. "I've always been proud of him."
His father has long been a leader in the deaf community and was considered for the presidency of his alma mater, Gallaudet University, renowned as the academic and cultural center of the deaf world, in Washington, D.C. He did not take kindly to his son leaving academia early.
"That was one of the hardest decisions we made," says Anderson's mother, Karen, who works for Arkansas' office of rehabilitation services for the deaf and hearing impaired. "It was back and forth for about two months. Glenn said no. He was adamant about that. But we were talking to a lot of people, not just agents but people inside the NFL that we knew, and the feedback that we got was that Jamaal was projected to go in the top of the first round.
"Life is a gamble. So he decided to go into the draft."
Education is king
Sports meant a lot to Anderson's father, but education carried more weight. He battled the stigma of a handicap in high school in Chicago, saying he "felt ostracized even more by the players" on the basketball team because of his academic achievements and he lost playing time because no one knew what to do with the deaf kid. The rewards came later.
"Only years after I had earned my B.A. and M.S. degrees did I become aware of the significance of my efforts to do well in high school," he says via e-mail. "I did have the good fortune to play basketball for Gallaudet University and score over 1,000 points in two-and-one-half seasons.
"I also had an opportunity to return home to Chicago and visit my former high school coach. It was then that I learned many of the players on the team did not attend college or receive scholarships. My coach was overjoyed that at least one of his former players had 'made something of himself.' At the time I was beginning my professional career as a counselor working for Michigan Rehabilitation Services."
He met his wife while completing his doctorate at NYU. When she applied for a job in his office, one requirement was sign language. She asked him to teach her. Their children learned it early and used it often.
"We're just like any other family. We just communicate differently," she says. "It was very natural. Sign language is just like any other language. The children would see Glenn and me signing, and they would watch us and move their hands."
The kids would, however, run a few games on pop.
"I would come home, and the music is blasting," Anderson's mother says. "I mean the house is moving. And I say, 'Turn that music down.' And I say, 'Glenn, your children are taking advantage of you.' And he'll just shrug a shoulder.
"I could tell Jamaal, 'I don't want you to do such and such,' but he goes to his dad and he knows Glenn and I haven't discussed it or Glenn didn't hear me downstairs fussing and screaming. And he'll run upstairs and Dad will say 'fine.' And then I have to … say, 'Your son is taking advantage … that you can't hear.' "
Kids. That's the kind of stuff they do. Anderson's father prefers to judge them on who they are. "All the things I talk about and expect of them are things I've done myself. They see me as a source of inspiration because they are aware of what I have had to deal with and overcome to move ahead in life," he says.
He attended high school when there were few tools for the deaf and many prejudices to battle. He earned three degrees; was a board of trustees member at Gallaudet and was the chair from 1994 to 2005; serves on numerous other boards; and in 2004 was inducted into the National Hall of Fame for People with Disabilities.
"He's like a coach. He expects perfection," Anderson says of his dad. "And I feel like every father should do that and want the best out of their son."
Unexpected connection
Growing up in Little Rock, with a father employed by the University of Arkansas, Anderson briefly considered such schools as Colorado, Mississippi and Florida. But he decided to stay put after a visit from Arkansas coach Houston Nutt, who was no stranger. His father, Houston Nutt Sr., knew Anderson's father and had in common the hearing disability.
"From the minute we walked in there was a great sense of family," Nutt says.
When he stopped by to offer a scholarship to the 6-6, 220-pounder recruited as a receiver, he proved convincing — in words and in sign. "We didn't need an interpreter. It was just fun," Anderson says.
Nutt's father coached and served as athletics director at the Arkansas School for the Deaf in Little Rock, and his mother taught English there. Nutt and his brother Danny, an assistant coach at Arkansas, spent their childhood playing and signing with their peers.
"There was a great bond when he came to visit, and we knew that was the place I needed to be," Anderson says.
An outstanding high school basketball player, too, Anderson moved to defensive end as a sophomore and began packing on strength and size. He's 288 pounds now but retains the speed (4.77 seconds in the 40-yard dash) and quickness he showed when he ran pass routes. After a slow start as a junior from a hamstring injury, he erupted for sack after sack.
"I've seen him slip an offensive tackle" with receiver-like moves, says Keith Jackson, a former NFL all-pro tight end. Jackson, who runs a program called P.A.R.K. — Positive Atmosphere Reaches Kids — in Little Rock, also is part of the Arkansas football radio team.
A burst off the line, Jackson says, sets the extraordinary pass rushers apart. He sees that in Anderson.
"You're not going to overpower those big tackles. You have to have speed and the hips to turn the corner," Jackson says. "Not only is Jamaal a fast guy, but he's a quick guy and he has great hips, so he can reduce himself and get around the corner.
"When you look at (Carolina Panthers defensive end) Julius Peppers, who played basketball, you see the hips, and those guys are different. They make you miss."
A bigger stage
Much will change for Anderson. He has never lived anywhere but Little Rock.
"You leave your teammates and you step into a business world," says Anderson, who says he'll work toward his degree. "But this is what I've dreamed of all my life. I'm sure I'm going to hear from my mother every day. And my sister (Danielle, 34) is going to go with me. She's like my second mother."
A 10-week training stint in Marina del Rey, Calif., that began in January left him with mixed feelings, even though his sister came to manage his affairs and cook. "I loved it as a place to visit. I couldn't imagine staying there. I'm a Southern boy, and that's where I would like to remain."
He'll also have to compete at a higher level after a mere two years as a college defensive end. He will be under pressure to make a difference quickly. "He's a tremendous listener. He has great instincts. He gets off blocks and makes plays," Houston Nutt says. "He's able to rush the passer. He's got to get better against the run. He'll make the transition so fast you get excited."
Anderson can't wait. "I want to show I can make an immediate impact."
That's the kind of talk that pleases pop. "He is passionate about the game and loves to compete. He has outstanding work ethics and is a self-starter when it comes to practice and conditioning," his father says.
Wherever he goes, Anderson will take those lessons from home with him. His signing bonus came long ago.
Jamaal Anderson's relatives can be forgiven for talking with their hands full. When the family gathers for dinner, conversation flies in two ways — verbally and in American Sign Language. A little barbecue sauce flavors the meal, lingers on the fingers and adds zest to the joking and debating.
Anderson, 21, is one of the top-rated defensive ends in the NFL draft, which commences Saturday in New York. His family and friends will gather at the Peabody Hotel in Little Rock to celebrate the dawn of his pro career.
He'll enjoy the cheers from the well-wishers while relishing the deaf version of applause — hands in the air, shaking at the wrists — when his name is announced. His father, deaf since he was 6 from medication given to treat pneumonia, will be there to congratulate his son.
The Andersons, tight and inclusive as a family, work their own bilingual magic to stay connected.
"I've had dreams where I've been signing," Anderson says. "I've been doing it since as far back as I can remember. It's just natural now."
He uses his hands pretty well in some of his other dreams, too. After a Southeastern Conference-high 131/2 sacks for the University of Arkansas as a junior, he decided to turn pro and should be among the first defensive linemen selected.
Not that coming out early was an easy choice or one that initially pleased his father, Glenn, who directs the Rehabilitation Research and Training Center for Persons who are Deaf or Hard of Hearing at the University of Arkansas. His disability did not keep him from earning his doctorate at New York University in 1982, achieving his goals or becoming a husband and father of two.
"He's a great man," says Anderson, a sociology major. "I've always been proud of him."
His father has long been a leader in the deaf community and was considered for the presidency of his alma mater, Gallaudet University, renowned as the academic and cultural center of the deaf world, in Washington, D.C. He did not take kindly to his son leaving academia early.
"That was one of the hardest decisions we made," says Anderson's mother, Karen, who works for Arkansas' office of rehabilitation services for the deaf and hearing impaired. "It was back and forth for about two months. Glenn said no. He was adamant about that. But we were talking to a lot of people, not just agents but people inside the NFL that we knew, and the feedback that we got was that Jamaal was projected to go in the top of the first round.
"Life is a gamble. So he decided to go into the draft."
Education is king
Sports meant a lot to Anderson's father, but education carried more weight. He battled the stigma of a handicap in high school in Chicago, saying he "felt ostracized even more by the players" on the basketball team because of his academic achievements and he lost playing time because no one knew what to do with the deaf kid. The rewards came later.
"Only years after I had earned my B.A. and M.S. degrees did I become aware of the significance of my efforts to do well in high school," he says via e-mail. "I did have the good fortune to play basketball for Gallaudet University and score over 1,000 points in two-and-one-half seasons.
"I also had an opportunity to return home to Chicago and visit my former high school coach. It was then that I learned many of the players on the team did not attend college or receive scholarships. My coach was overjoyed that at least one of his former players had 'made something of himself.' At the time I was beginning my professional career as a counselor working for Michigan Rehabilitation Services."
He met his wife while completing his doctorate at NYU. When she applied for a job in his office, one requirement was sign language. She asked him to teach her. Their children learned it early and used it often.
"We're just like any other family. We just communicate differently," she says. "It was very natural. Sign language is just like any other language. The children would see Glenn and me signing, and they would watch us and move their hands."
The kids would, however, run a few games on pop.
"I would come home, and the music is blasting," Anderson's mother says. "I mean the house is moving. And I say, 'Turn that music down.' And I say, 'Glenn, your children are taking advantage of you.' And he'll just shrug a shoulder.
"I could tell Jamaal, 'I don't want you to do such and such,' but he goes to his dad and he knows Glenn and I haven't discussed it or Glenn didn't hear me downstairs fussing and screaming. And he'll run upstairs and Dad will say 'fine.' And then I have to … say, 'Your son is taking advantage … that you can't hear.' "
Kids. That's the kind of stuff they do. Anderson's father prefers to judge them on who they are. "All the things I talk about and expect of them are things I've done myself. They see me as a source of inspiration because they are aware of what I have had to deal with and overcome to move ahead in life," he says.
He attended high school when there were few tools for the deaf and many prejudices to battle. He earned three degrees; was a board of trustees member at Gallaudet and was the chair from 1994 to 2005; serves on numerous other boards; and in 2004 was inducted into the National Hall of Fame for People with Disabilities.
"He's like a coach. He expects perfection," Anderson says of his dad. "And I feel like every father should do that and want the best out of their son."
Unexpected connection
Growing up in Little Rock, with a father employed by the University of Arkansas, Anderson briefly considered such schools as Colorado, Mississippi and Florida. But he decided to stay put after a visit from Arkansas coach Houston Nutt, who was no stranger. His father, Houston Nutt Sr., knew Anderson's father and had in common the hearing disability.
"From the minute we walked in there was a great sense of family," Nutt says.
When he stopped by to offer a scholarship to the 6-6, 220-pounder recruited as a receiver, he proved convincing — in words and in sign. "We didn't need an interpreter. It was just fun," Anderson says.
Nutt's father coached and served as athletics director at the Arkansas School for the Deaf in Little Rock, and his mother taught English there. Nutt and his brother Danny, an assistant coach at Arkansas, spent their childhood playing and signing with their peers.
"There was a great bond when he came to visit, and we knew that was the place I needed to be," Anderson says.
An outstanding high school basketball player, too, Anderson moved to defensive end as a sophomore and began packing on strength and size. He's 288 pounds now but retains the speed (4.77 seconds in the 40-yard dash) and quickness he showed when he ran pass routes. After a slow start as a junior from a hamstring injury, he erupted for sack after sack.
"I've seen him slip an offensive tackle" with receiver-like moves, says Keith Jackson, a former NFL all-pro tight end. Jackson, who runs a program called P.A.R.K. — Positive Atmosphere Reaches Kids — in Little Rock, also is part of the Arkansas football radio team.
A burst off the line, Jackson says, sets the extraordinary pass rushers apart. He sees that in Anderson.
"You're not going to overpower those big tackles. You have to have speed and the hips to turn the corner," Jackson says. "Not only is Jamaal a fast guy, but he's a quick guy and he has great hips, so he can reduce himself and get around the corner.
"When you look at (Carolina Panthers defensive end) Julius Peppers, who played basketball, you see the hips, and those guys are different. They make you miss."
A bigger stage
Much will change for Anderson. He has never lived anywhere but Little Rock.
"You leave your teammates and you step into a business world," says Anderson, who says he'll work toward his degree. "But this is what I've dreamed of all my life. I'm sure I'm going to hear from my mother every day. And my sister (Danielle, 34) is going to go with me. She's like my second mother."
A 10-week training stint in Marina del Rey, Calif., that began in January left him with mixed feelings, even though his sister came to manage his affairs and cook. "I loved it as a place to visit. I couldn't imagine staying there. I'm a Southern boy, and that's where I would like to remain."
He'll also have to compete at a higher level after a mere two years as a college defensive end. He will be under pressure to make a difference quickly. "He's a tremendous listener. He has great instincts. He gets off blocks and makes plays," Houston Nutt says. "He's able to rush the passer. He's got to get better against the run. He'll make the transition so fast you get excited."
Anderson can't wait. "I want to show I can make an immediate impact."
That's the kind of talk that pleases pop. "He is passionate about the game and loves to compete. He has outstanding work ethics and is a self-starter when it comes to practice and conditioning," his father says.
Wherever he goes, Anderson will take those lessons from home with him. His signing bonus came long ago.