For Duckett, Every Day Is Mother's Day
10/25/2000 12:00:00 AM | Football
Oct. 25, 2000
We all know his statistics. We know what he squats in the weight room. We know about his versatility, the switch from defensive run-stopper to offensive game breaker. We've all heard the comparisons - he's the next Ron Dayne, a young Earl Campbell.
But sophomore tailback T.J. Duckett is more than a 252-pound sledgehammer with gaudy rushing numbers. Maybe his personal qualities get lost in the fact that he's on his way to rushing for 1,000 yards with November to spare. Off the field, he's a father's dream. Sweet, true, humble. Everything one would want for their daughter. But there's more than that. He's a sublime mix of athleticism and personality. A combination of speed, strength and heart, he is truly a complete athlete and, more importantly, a complete individual.
Last spring, his outward appearance would have given no indication to the personal losses he had recently suffered. The man destined to be the next Spartan superstar, living a life as large as the photo of him featured on outside of Spartan Stadium, faced the loss of a very important person in his life. In March, Duckett's mother, Jacquelyn Barham, lost her six-year battle with lymphoma, leaving her son to fight his battles alone.
"Being around her all the time, I picked up most of my values and morals from her," said Duckett. "Most importantly, she taught me to be humble and patient. I saw how much she did in the community without anyone even knowing and knew that's what a person should be like and how I should carry myself." His mother's plight taught T.J. more than how to act as a human being. As the disease weakened her, Duckett became more aware of the opportunities he was given in life and how he should take advantage of each he was given.
"With what she went through, I could see her slowly falling apart and it made me realize that nothing is forever," said Duckett. "She fought through all her pain and made it look easy when inside she was really struggling.
"So if I get hurt or down, I just look at how she handled her pain, turning it into positives for our family and I take that into everything I do. I try to look at the bright side of situations and make the best of them."
Although Michigan State fans have taken to Duckett as if he was one of their own, he had to come to grips with the fact that his personal cheering section in Spartan Stadium was minus one important member. Barham had missed only a game or two throughout her son's entire career and Duckett was forced to realize that, when he looked into the stands, his mother's warm glance would no longer be looking back.
"When it first happened, it would break me down," remembered Duckett, "but I try not to let it get me down now because I have to move forward with my life and that's what she would've wanted. There will still be times when I am relaxing and start to think about it. It'll get me down, but I go for a bike ride or walk just to be by myself."
Maybe that illustrates just how human he is. Even though his massive frame can take the most violent hit from a linebacker, his heart is always vulnerable.
"I am just like everyone else," said Duckett. "Don't think that because I play football and take the hit, that things can't hurt me," said Duckett.
"Maybe that's just something I want people to realize is that I am just like them. My abilities to carry the ball make me no different."
He's done everything to make a mom proud. With 810 rushing yards on the season, Duckett ranked third in the Big Ten and fifth nationally in that category. His personality has made him one of the most recognized athletes on campus and has him ranked first in the hearts of Spartan fans.
Thanks, mom.
