From nothing to something: Robert Hunt’s improbable journey from one-stop sign town to the NFL
Drive East on Highway 63 out of Jasper, Texas, and the last vestiges of city life quickly vanish. Self-storage facilities, budget motels and mobile home parks give way to towering pines and dense underbrush.
The scenery whizzes by for about 20 minutes before a blink-and-you-miss-it intersection marked by a single sign. This is the road that leads to where this year’s most improbable future NFL draft pick grew up.
Robert Hunt is from Wiergate, a boomtown during the golden era of East Texas lumbering that still clings to life 73 years after its sawmill closed. This tiny speck of a town has 450 residents, one stop sign and roads that were once paved but are now dirt.
The nearest fast food restaurant is 14 miles away. The closest Walmart is another eight miles further than that. If Hunt’s family scrounged up enough money to go see a movie, they had to drive more than an hour to get to the closest theater.
“There’s nothing in Wiergate,” Hunt said. “It’s a place you have to go to understand how it really is. You can read about it and get an idea, but you wouldn’t really know until you go there. It’s different. It’s a place that people haven’t made it out of.”
Hunt himself was in jeopardy of being one of those who didn't make it out, one of those Wiergate lifers telling stories about what could have been, one of those men his father made him swear he'd never be. With no college coaches showing interest in him by the end of his junior year of high school, Hunt didn’t seem to have a future in football or a solid backup plan.
Over the past six years, Hunt has gone from the right tackle of a 3-37 high school football team to a projected early-round NFL draft pick, from the throes of extreme poverty to the precipice of a life-altering payday. How he did it is a remarkable story of perseverance, resilience and good fortune.
A dead-end town
Robert George Washington Handy Hunt was born in Wiergate in 1999, and soon after that his father began hammering the same message into his head. Rickey Gatson encouraged his son to leave Wiergate after high school and go somewhere with better job prospects because he wanted Hunt’s life to be easier than his.
“There’s nothing here,” Gatson would say. “There are no opportunities for you to make a come-up in anything.”
When Gatson was young, he harbored dreams of leaving his hometown and starting fresh elsewhere. He got certified to drive log trucks, but blindness in his right eye disqualified him from all interstate jobs and made work scarce. Left with few options, Gatson took any odd job he could find, from mowing lawns, to detailing log trucks, to cooking at Dairy Queen.
Although Hunt’s mother brought in a steadier paycheck as a nurse’s aide, he and his five older siblings still grew up humbly. Sometimes the lights wouldn’t turn on or visits to grandma would become less frequent when Hunt’s father went too long between jobs.
Hunt’s family was living in a trailer in 2005 when Hurricane Rita uprooted them and forced them to move in with his grandmother in Fort Worth. Hunt remembers at least 10 kids in that house at all times between him, his siblings and his cousins.
Three years later, Hunt, his mom and his siblings rejoined his dad in a ramshackle foreclosure in Wiergate. The family lost everything in December 2010 when that house burnt down in an electrical fire.
Hunt’s four older sisters returned to Fort Worth for good after that, but his mom sent him and his brother back to Wiergate. With her job sometimes keeping her away from her kids until as late as 10 p.m., Kathi Handy preferred her boys attend high school in the country, where drugs, gangs and violence were not so prevalent.
“I didn’t want my kids to fall into some of the things I was seeing their friends in the city fall into,” Handy said.
Hunt attended high school in Burkeville, an 1,800-person town just a few miles from Wiergate. When a Family Dollar opened in Burkeville in 2014, Hunt quipped, “We felt like we were on top of the world then.”
Sending Hunt to Burkeville might as well have been a tacit admission that football was not going to be his path out of Wiergate. Not at a high school where college scouts hardly ever visited and where winning a single game was viewed as a monumental achievement.
A football coldbed
In four years playing football for Burkeville High School, Hunt experienced three victories. Two of those wins came against the same team, and the way Hunt remembers it, “those games felt like you won the Super Bowl.”
Burkeville’s problem wasn’t a lack of talent. It was a lack of resources, depth and commitment. There were only 18 players on the roster during one season that Hunt played. Fewer than that would show up to practice.
“Sometimes we’d have nine guys come,” Hunt recalled with a chuckle. “Maaaybe 12 or 13 if we were lucky. I thought we had really good players, but nobody wanted to play. Nobody wanted to do anything.”
With such low turnout at practices, Burkeville never went 11-on-11. Coaches would instead send the offense onto the field and simulate a defense by placing cones or trash cans where defenders would normally be.
The one-sided losses, apathetic teammates and negativity from bystanders eroded Hunt’s enthusiasm for football. Handy remembers that only during football season and never during basketball season would her son allow his grades to sink far enough to risk missing practices or games as punishment.
“I was like, ‘I see the pattern, dude. Stop it,’” Handy said with a chuckle.
Whereas other talented football prospects across Texas trained relentlessly in high school and received high-level position-specific coaching, Hunt got none of that at Burkeville. He didn’t play football year-round, learn proper footwork and technique or fully commit to getting in shape. Seldom did he even get to do 1-on-1 blocking drills during practice for fear of injuring a smaller teammate.
What Hunt did possess, however, was unusual athleticism and agility for his size. At 6-foot-5 and almost 300 pounds, Hunt was just as adept chasing down a ball carrier in the open field or running routes at receiver as he was manhandling smaller linemen.
The other sports that Hunt played also showcased his athletic gifts. How many other offensive linemen average more than 18 points and 11 rebounds for their school’s basketball team? Or swat home runs for their school’s baseball team?
Hunt’s upside was obvious to those at Burkeville, but football coach Kenneth Thomas struggled to entice college coaches to come see the offensive tackle. Coaches who recruited the state of Texas tended to focus on the talent-rich Dallas metroplex or other populous areas. Those who ventured to sparsely populated parts of East Texas to hunt for talent had little incentive to add hapless Burkeville to their travel itinerary.
Stephen F. Austin showed no interest in Hunt even after Thomas left messages about him. Thomas also reached out to Nicholls State, McNeese State and Sam Houston State about Hunt but received no response.
“I guess it was because we were losing,” Thomas said. “I was sure Robert was good enough to get a college scholarship, but I couldn’t get him any kind of exposure.”
By the end of his junior year of high school, Hunt was heading down a familiar path. With no colleges recruiting him, Hunt assumed he had no football future beyond high school. He was ready to attend trade school and “probably try welding or something.”
“This is terrible to say, but honestly I didn’t know what was next,” Hunt said. “I don’t remember thinking about college. I don’t remember thinking like that.”
The chance encounter
The turning point in Hunt’s life arrived in May 2014 when his coach stopped by a Louisiana high school’s spring practice. By chance, 20-25 college coaches were on hand that day, all there to recruit an offensive lineman with a long list of marquee scholarship offers.
Thomas watched the heralded offensive lineman closely to see how he compared to Hunt. Then Thomas introduced himself to half the college coaches and told them, “If you like that kid, you’d love the kid I’ve got.”
Of all the coaches Thomas approached, only a Louisiana-Lafayette defensive line coach asked for more information. Thomas told Tim Edwards that Hunt was 6-foot-5, 300 pounds, athletic enough to play other sports and so far undiscovered by other colleges.
By the end of the conversation, Edwards had already made up his mind. He knew the Louisiana offensive lineman wouldn’t sign with Louisiana-Lafayette because too many elite programs were now pursuing him. Instead, he drove to East Texas to see if Thomas’ too-good-to-be-true tale happened to be right.
When Edwards arrived at Burkeville High the next day, he waited in the gymnasium to meet with Hunt. A few minutes later, in walks a baby-faced kid so mammoth that he made a 6-foot-1 former NFL defensive lineman feel small. Especially notable for Edwards were Hunt’s massive hands. They reminded Edwards of those of Bruce Armstrong, the former New England Patriots All-Pro offensive tackle who used to maul him in practice.
“It ain’t like I’m a little-bitty dude,” Edwards said. “I’m a man too. But when that kid walked through the door, I said, ‘Oh my God.’ If a kid this big can also play basketball and baseball and run track, he’s gotta be special.’”
Hunt smiled throughout his meeting with Edwards until the coach invited him to attend an upcoming camp 150 miles away in Lafayette. Then Hunt’s face fell because he knew he had no way to get there.
Undaunted, Edwards told Hunt that the camp was open to anyone and that all his teammates could come too. The Louisiana-Lafayette assistant correctly guessed that one of them might be able to give Hunt a ride.
Whereas other campers arrived looking trim and toned in their branded performance gear, Hunt showed up a bit overweight and wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He had to pay close attention when the coaches demonstrated how to do each drill because most were new to him.
Hunt excelled at run-blocking, showcasing nimble feet and natural strength while pile-driving walking Nike or Under Armour billboards with astonishing ease. He was a coach’s dream — raw yet coachable, inexperienced yet able to retain new information.
Pass protection drills were tougher for Hunt because he hadn’t done any of that in high school. One coach asked Hunt to get in a two-point stance, and he hesitated. Guessing incorrectly at what that term meant, he then put two fingers in the ground.
In a way, Hunt’s blunder worked in his favor. It confirmed to Louisiana-Lafayette offensive line coach Mitch Rodrigue that Hunt “hadn’t been exposed to a lot of coaching and had very big upside.” As a result, Rodrigue summoned head coach Mark Hudspeth midway through camp and asked him to watch Hunt.
“Mitch kept putting Robert through footwork drills and he was blowing everyone away, even some of our top invitee kids,” Hudspeth recalled. “He was already long and athletic and his footwork was crazy.”
The opportunity of a lifetime
As Hunt was about to head home with his teammate at the end of camp, Rodrigue pulled him aside and told him Hudspeth wanted to see him in his office.
Hunt tried to maintain his poise, but inside he was giddy. He remembers thinking, “This has to be good. This has to be really good.”
Inside Hudspeth’s office, the Louisiana-Lafayette head coach told Hunt how well he had done in camp that day and offered a full scholarship. The words had barely escaped Hudspeth’s lips when a flood of tears began rolling down Hunt’s face.
“There are tears in my eyes now just thinking about it, if I’m being honest,” Hunt said. “It was crazy for me to have that opportunity.”
Hunt was so naive to the college recruiting process that he committed on the spot. He didn’t even wait to tell his parents about the offer first.
“I said, ‘Yeah, let’s do it!’ ” Hunt recalled with a laugh. “I didn’t know anything. This is my scholarship? I’m taking it!”
Over the next few months, Hudspeth and Rodrigue got to know Hunt better and learned why that scholarship offer was so life-changing. They came to Wiergate. They got hopelessly lost trying to navigate the town’s dirt roads. They met Hunt’s mother and father. They saw the holes in the floor of his home. They heard the rats scampering in the walls.
“It’s hard to say this because I don’t want to embarrass Robert, but I don’t think anyone really understands what he came from,” Rodrigue said. “It’s not just the small town. It’s the extreme poverty. I’ve coached for 30 years and recruited for 30 years in rural Mississippi and South Louisiana but Robert was a special case.”
When Houston showed late interest after the hiring of Tom Herman, Rodrigue encouraged Hunt to visit the campus. The Louisiana-Lafayette assistant knew the experience would be valuable for Hunt and hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him.
In the end, Hunt remained loyal. He liked Houston, but the Louisiana-Lafayette staff was like family to him by then.
Hunt redshirted as a freshman, giving him a full year to acclimate to college life, to improve his technique and to transform his body. The following season, the kid whose high school team won only three games in four seasons started for a Division I college, beating out a veteran in spring practice for the left guard position.
Though Hunt started at guard again as a redshirt sophomore and was a driving force behind his team’s strong rushing attack, he felt that he was coasting on his athleticism too often. He couldn’t shake the nagging sense that with greater discipline he could accomplish more.
“I got really heavy,” Hunt said. “I was eating a lot and doing whatever I wanted to do every night. I was enjoying myself. It wasn’t Burkeville, you know?”
That offseason, Hunt made a decision: It was time to take football seriously for the first time in his life. It was time to see how good he could be.
‘I’m gonna cry’
Instead of returning home the past two summers, Hunt stayed in Lafayette. He lifted weights and did extra conditioning every morning. He cut out unhealthy food from his diet. He studied film to address the flaws in his technique.
Hunt was on his way to an All-American nomination as a senior before suffering a groin injury seven games into the season. Even so, he still received first-team all-league honors, rocketed up NFL draft boards and landed an invite to the Senior Bowl.
An offensive line led by Hunt and fellow NFL prospect Kevin Dotson helped Louisiana-Lafayette finish third nationally in yards per carry, fourth nationally in rushing touchdowns and fifth nationally in sacks allowed. Hunt showcased power, tenacity and mobility, demonstrating the versatility to play either guard or tackle in the NFL and solidifying himself as a potential second- or third-round draft pick next week.
Last November, Hunt’s mom and dad traveled to Lafayette to watch him receive his diploma and become his family’s first college graduate. Next week, Hunt and his family will gather again in the Houston area to watch the NFL draft together.
“I ain’t no wimp, don’t get me wrong, but I’m gonna cry,” Hunt’s father said. “There are a lot of kids from this area that have had opportunities and thrown them away. Robert has accomplished so, so much and I’m so proud of him.”
The chance to lift his family out of poverty is meaningful to Hunt, as is the opportunity to offer hope to kids in Burkeville, Wiergate and surrounding communities. Already, new Burkeville football coach Eric Williams has shared Hunt’s story with his players in hopes of demonstrating what’s possible if they work hard, dream big and stay out of trouble.
“His story is going to help me so much,” Williams said. “We have so many kids who have similar problems, so he's a great tool for me to use. They can relate to someone like Robert who has walked in their hallways and been in their shoes.”
Maybe it’s naive to think that one man’s story can alter the trajectory of a fading town, but what Hunt has accomplished is already opening eyes within his own family.
Hunt’s three nephews are 11, 9 and 7. They tell Hunt’s mother all the time, “I’m going to be a Ragin’ Cajun. I want to go where my uncle went.” Hunt’s nieces now have aspirations of going to college too.
“I’ve already asked Robert about being a motivational speaker,” his mother said. “I want him to tell young kids his story so that they can see the possibilities. You don’t have to go to the streets. You don’t have to settle for a job at McDonald’s. You can do more. You can be anything you want to be.”
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