We got just 24 years of Nile Kinnick, but the impact he made in each stage of his life was profound enough to last.
"He was not a great baseball player," says Bob Feller, the baseball legend who grew up playing American Legion ball with Kinnick in nearby Van Meter. "He used to take a football to baseball practice and practice drop-kicking the football right behind home plate at Riverside Park in Adel, which is named after him and me."
From that field in Adel, it was easy to notice the square-jawed kid with the dark hair. He played hard. He played fair. He knew what he wanted.
"They always used to call him 'junior' or 'june'--well, he hated that. And when he went to college, he told everybody 'don't call me junior or june, my name is Nile,'" adds Feller.
That name was called over and over again at the University of Iowa, where Kinnick commanded the single-wing offense.
Former Iowa athletics director, Chalmers "Bump" Elliott, starred at Michigan before joining Iowa's Forrest Evashevski as an assistant coach.
"Generally speaking, when you're the tailback in the single-wing, you're the runner, the passer, the punter, the place-kicker--well, they didn't placekick, he drop-kicked."
With Kinnick leading the way, the Hawkeyes returned to national prominence in the late thirties. He and his "Ironmen" won over a nation.
"I saw every home game in 1939 out of the 'Knothole Section,'"' says logtime Hawkeye broadcaster, Bob Brooks. "They had a knothole section for kids and I was a member of that."
Feller watched Kinnick's star rise at Iowa when he could.
"I was playing major league ball--playing with the Indians--I'd come home and first thing I couldn't wait to get down and watch him play football, before World War 2."
"In a 10-day period, he thrilled the nation, leading the Ironmen to the win over Notre Dame and the next week, the win over Minnesota," adds Brooks. "In just a period of ten days, with old time communication, the United States and football fans across the country found out about Nile."
While the images of Kinnick on the field are dated, those of him at the Heisman Trophy ceremony, that year, are timeless--as are his humble words:
"It seems to me that everyone is letting their superlatives run away with them, this evening, but nonetheless, I want you to know that I am mighty, mighty happy to accept this trophy this evening."
Though he would live another three-and-a-half years, Kinnick's life had reached its zenith. He would leave law school to enlist in the navy, just before Pearl Harbor. While training north of Venezuela, Kinnick's plane began leaking oil and he was forced to land on the Caribbean.
Feller was fighting in the Pacific at the time of Kinnick's accident. He says he still wonders to himself what could have gone wrong on that training flight, which took place only a short distance from rescue boats. He has two theories.
"When he was gonna land in the water, he made a good landing in the water--he either, when he had the canopy open to get out, it slammed shut, or, he forgot to open it before he put the plane on the water. I don't know of anybody's gonna know that answer or not, it's not important. He's not with us any more."
It wasn't until 29 years later that the University of Iowa decided to memorialize its greatest player by renaming its stadium. More tributes would be added later.
There are more than a few men who've got statues and stadiums in their name. But how many of them can go to the Vital Records division of the State Department of Public Health--where they keep track of all the names given to babies in this state--and find something like this: since 1989, there have been 105 babies given the name "Nile" and 107 named "Kinnick". Now that's an icon.
"He stands for all the things that are good," says Elliott. "Not only in the university itself and getting an education, but in the athletic realm as well, and that's why universities and the state of Iowa have just clung so very strongly to Kinnick--because he stands for everything that's good."
Some men need a gravestone to be remembered. Nile Kinnick will never be one of those men. He's an Iowa Icon.
"He was not a great baseball player," says Bob Feller, the baseball legend who grew up playing American Legion ball with Kinnick in nearby Van Meter. "He used to take a football to baseball practice and practice drop-kicking the football right behind home plate at Riverside Park in Adel, which is named after him and me."
From that field in Adel, it was easy to notice the square-jawed kid with the dark hair. He played hard. He played fair. He knew what he wanted.
"They always used to call him 'junior' or 'june'--well, he hated that. And when he went to college, he told everybody 'don't call me junior or june, my name is Nile,'" adds Feller.
That name was called over and over again at the University of Iowa, where Kinnick commanded the single-wing offense.
Former Iowa athletics director, Chalmers "Bump" Elliott, starred at Michigan before joining Iowa's Forrest Evashevski as an assistant coach.
"Generally speaking, when you're the tailback in the single-wing, you're the runner, the passer, the punter, the place-kicker--well, they didn't placekick, he drop-kicked."
With Kinnick leading the way, the Hawkeyes returned to national prominence in the late thirties. He and his "Ironmen" won over a nation.
"I saw every home game in 1939 out of the 'Knothole Section,'"' says logtime Hawkeye broadcaster, Bob Brooks. "They had a knothole section for kids and I was a member of that."
Feller watched Kinnick's star rise at Iowa when he could.
"I was playing major league ball--playing with the Indians--I'd come home and first thing I couldn't wait to get down and watch him play football, before World War 2."
"In a 10-day period, he thrilled the nation, leading the Ironmen to the win over Notre Dame and the next week, the win over Minnesota," adds Brooks. "In just a period of ten days, with old time communication, the United States and football fans across the country found out about Nile."
While the images of Kinnick on the field are dated, those of him at the Heisman Trophy ceremony, that year, are timeless--as are his humble words:
"It seems to me that everyone is letting their superlatives run away with them, this evening, but nonetheless, I want you to know that I am mighty, mighty happy to accept this trophy this evening."
Though he would live another three-and-a-half years, Kinnick's life had reached its zenith. He would leave law school to enlist in the navy, just before Pearl Harbor. While training north of Venezuela, Kinnick's plane began leaking oil and he was forced to land on the Caribbean.
Feller was fighting in the Pacific at the time of Kinnick's accident. He says he still wonders to himself what could have gone wrong on that training flight, which took place only a short distance from rescue boats. He has two theories.
"When he was gonna land in the water, he made a good landing in the water--he either, when he had the canopy open to get out, it slammed shut, or, he forgot to open it before he put the plane on the water. I don't know of anybody's gonna know that answer or not, it's not important. He's not with us any more."
It wasn't until 29 years later that the University of Iowa decided to memorialize its greatest player by renaming its stadium. More tributes would be added later.
There are more than a few men who've got statues and stadiums in their name. But how many of them can go to the Vital Records division of the State Department of Public Health--where they keep track of all the names given to babies in this state--and find something like this: since 1989, there have been 105 babies given the name "Nile" and 107 named "Kinnick". Now that's an icon.
"He stands for all the things that are good," says Elliott. "Not only in the university itself and getting an education, but in the athletic realm as well, and that's why universities and the state of Iowa have just clung so very strongly to Kinnick--because he stands for everything that's good."
Some men need a gravestone to be remembered. Nile Kinnick will never be one of those men. He's an Iowa Icon.
