Rodney''s own career stalled despite what locals say was an eye-popping 1987 performance for NFL scouts at a combine in Atlanta. "He benched 225 38 times, ran a 4.42 and weighed 235," recalls Tommie Lee. "He was incredible." But Alvin''s first great football prospect wound up playing two minor league seasons with the Charlotte Blast before taking a job as a welder. Heartbroken, he decided to channel his passion into Courtney, first through those technique drills, then on that rickety bench in the barber shop. When Brown''s body caught up to his feet, those sandlot games looked very different. "All of a sudden, Courtney was chasing everybody down," says Tommie Lee. "He was unstoppable."
The kid -- a 4.0 student -- blossomed into a 6''5", 230-pound terror who made the USA Today and Parade All-America teams. His future college coach, Joe Paterno, was on hand in ''96 when a state booster club saluted him with a Lineman of the Year award. These days, Brown weighs closer to 270 and is affectionately known as "Quiet Storm" on campus. He has caused more than his share of disaster, with a school-record 58 tackles for a loss. Some NFL scouts even believe the guy who used to be the last one picked in those sandlot games will be the first one taken in April''s draft. Joe Hamilton learned about standing tall when he was in the fourth grade. That''s when Joe Sr. told him about his own childhood, about being the only black face at St. Stephen Elementary in the early ''60s. His father, Silas, had decided his young son should go to the white school in the next town one year before integration became mandatory. "Worst year of my life," says Joe Sr. "I was afraid to go eat lunch because I was scared to sit with anyone." He ended up repeating the year and revisiting the horror stories with each of his children when they were old enough to understand. "It''s part of our identity," he says. Joe Sr. is a factory worker in the Alcoa plant in Goose Creek now. His wife, Ginger, has been the deputy tax collector in Berkeley County for 20 years. Like most Alvin residents, they do a lot of driving: 45 miles to the movie theater, nine to the closest Big Mac. "My dad always talked about working," says Joe Jr. "He pushed us pretty hard, whether it was cutting wood or cleaning up the yard. But when it came to sports, he''d keep saying, ''Dare to be the best.'' That stuck with me." As a child, Little Joe would sit for hours looking through gnarled old albums full of pictures of his pop at running back for Macedonia. Junior didn''t get senior''s height (6''2"), but those stiff arms and shakes and spins all come from his old man. "I can still hear him telling me about how he could turn that corner with his speed," he says. "I check those pictures out all the time." He used to ask the older guys at Kinlaw''s to tell him about pop''s moves too. "You know, we don''t talk about it, but I can tell by that look in his eyes he is living through me," he says.If he is, he''s not alone. Little Joe might as well be Alvin''s mayor. He is the ultimate local hero. After a senior season in which he threw for 17 touchdowns and zero interceptions, most schools -- including Clemson and South Carolina -- felt he was too short at 5''10" to play QB at the D-1 level. Even at Penn State, where he attended quarterback camp three times, they saw him as a d-back. Hamilton opted for Georgia Tech over Nebraska and Notre Dame.
Yellow Jackets coaches noticed his speed and his leadership skills and figured he would be good, but no one -- outside of Alvin -- expected him to be the best player the school has ever had. A four-year starter, Hamilton is the most efficient passer in ACC history. He''s also on track to lead GT to consecutive 10-win seasons for the first time in 47 years. Not once has he forgotten where it all began. One week after beating West Virginia in the ''97 CarQuest Bowl, he was back home helping his dad re-gravel the driveway. When Georgia Tech listed St. Stephen beside his name on the roster that same year, Hamilton and his family asked the school to have it changed. St. Stephen may be Joe''s postal address, but Alvin is his hometown. And the kid hasn''t skipped the local Independence Day parade in 22 years. This past July, he got to ride in the grand marshal''s convertible with Prioleau. Start to finish, the trip took 15 minutes, but Little Joe loved every one of them. With a little O-line help, he says, he could round up a group of Alvin''s finest and compete for the national championship. "Seriously," he adds, shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye. "There''s just something special about Alvin. You''ve got to come here and see it to believe it."The years have passed, the school has burned down, but Little Joe still talks a good game. Courtney Brown, his alter ego, will always be low-key and quiet, the defensive thunder to Hamilton''s lightning. Joe Jr. will forever be the kid in the sandlot who will find a way to get it done -- even if he has to go to Canada or Amsterdam to keep playing quarterback. "These guys back here wanted to make it to college," he says. "Some definitely had the talent to be where me and Courtney are. But for some reason, they didn''t succeed. I''m living their dreams. My success brings this community into the limelight, and it''s my job to keep it going. I want to bring back the love to Alvin."And Alvin is nearly starved for it. There are no more home stands these days, only road games. Parents, brothers and cousins drive five hours to watch Joe at Tech or 12 hours to watch Big Six at PSU.In South Carolina, they sit glued to their TVs.
Hamilton sometimes feels their eyes. "As soon as I throw an interception, I can see my cousin Adrian screaming, ''What''s he doing?'' Or when I make that 360 spin at the goal line, I can hear my Uncle Mark laughing about it. Every touchdown, I say to myself, ''How do you like that back there!''"
Friday nights no longer seem like part of the weekend. Out behind Kinlaw''s, the beer still flows and the fryer is sizzlin'', but things aren''t the same. When Timberland plays its big rival a few miles down the road, Alvin''s town fathers stay put, guzzling Natural Light and swatting at plum-sized mosquitoes. That''s somebody else''s squad. Their team took its act national years ago, leaving behind a sweet potato patch and a batch of special memories. Tonight, the Brothers Connection, a community outreach program, holds court. Three bucks gets you all the fried fish you can handle, a tall boy and a history lesson. "Football''s still king ''round here," says a 30-something man with corn rows and a Tech T-shirt. "We''ve just moved on to a bigger stage. Didn''t you see us light ''em last night on TV? "Alvin''s everywhere now."
