They called him ‘Dirty Red’—a name that stuck not just because of his hair, but because of the way he played: rough, relentless, and with zero apologies.

“I like any name that sounds violent,” Williams said in a St. Louis Post-Dispatch interview in 1978. Sometimes they call me ‘Filthy,’ sometimes ‘Red’ and sometimes ‘Dirty Red.’ Anything they call me is all right with me.”

If you’ve ever met Eric Williams, you’d learn that he is a soft-spoken, easygoing guy. But once he strapped on a helmet, he morphed into a relentless force—ferocious, focused, and utterly fearless.

“Off the field, I’m this happy-go-lucky guy that you’re talking to. On the field, I’m crazy. In the game, I’m ready for four quarters of violence. A linebacker has to destroy people. A linebacker has to put fear in people’s hearts—like Willie Lanier and Dick Butkus did. I pattern myself after them.”

Williams overcame many odds on his journey to the NFL. He lost his dad at a young age, overcame a heart murmur, and found a father figure in his high school football coach who kept him on the straight and narrow and never let him quit.

He was introduced to football at a Kansas City Boys Club as a young boy in the 1960s. However, his real training ground was the street. He battled kids who were older, tougher, and twice his size.

“That’s how I got my toughness. They kind of knocked me around a bit.”

It was at Kansas City Central High School, where Williams blossomed under the guidance of his head coach, Charlie Lee.

Lee moved Williams from running back to linebacker and ensured Williams was academically ready for college. Later, Lee advised the young football player against leaving USC after he didn’t see the field during his freshman year.

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