Chiefs’ Hall thrives in
his roller-coaster job
HIS job would make a great thrill ride, filled with the kind of exhilarating chaos people plan vacations around. If Disney could package what he does, the lines would be a mile long.
"Oh, yeah," Dante Hall says, emphatically, as the idea sinks in and he decides that it fits. "It would be the best roller coaster ever, man. I'm telling you! Especially my style of running."
Hall's job is kick returner in the NFL for the Kansas City Chiefs. And he's here for his second Pro Bowl, which means he's done it better than anyone else.
This is the guy who took pro football by storm the first half of this past season with four touchdowns via special teams. People just don't do that. Sure, a return man might get a touchdown in a season. If he's lucky, maybe two. The coverage may break down, he might break free.
But consistently? Four? That just doesn't happen. It's too nuts out there.
A roller coaster is nothing compared to what Hall does with 10 men running at him, gunning for him, bodies flying everywhere, unexpectedly, and at great speed.
"You just react," he says. "All you usually do as a returner, I'm telling you" -- and he's telling you, like you might actually return an NFL kickoff someday and this advice will be very, very important -- "you're going to have a right, left or middle call. That's the side that you're going to return. And then, you know, from there it's fielding the ball clean and you start in the direction that the players are going to go. And from that," and his voice is getting more excited now, "it's all instinct, man."
He continues, more animated, voice rising, smile growing, like he's found his hole, he's making his move.
He cuts.
"If you ever, ever, ever hear anybody trying to tell you, 'Yeah, I saw this guy, then I went this way,' they lying." Matter of fact. No doubt about it. "They lying."
Hall has no idea where he's going. He starts off in the right direction, then lets the moves come to him. He dances. He jukes. He stops. This is not always good. It can result in losses, it can drive coaches crazy.
Purists always tell you to run straight, to get the guaranteed yards. They said that to Hall, too, once. But not anymore.
"Not anymore," he says. "That's a good point, 'any more.' That is what happens when you get a little, you know." And his eyes dance the way his feet did during that magic trick against the Broncos, when he was trapped but escaped, then scored. You know. "Take a couple to the house," he says, and the tune changes: " 'Hey, Mr. Hall, go ahead and do what you wanna do.'
"That was my problem my first couple years," he says. "I had to stick with the return. I was too afraid to maybe cut it back a little bit, retreat backwards and do all that stuff. Finally I got a coach that was like, 'Hey let's go play the game! Just go play.' OK! That allowed me to just be creative when everything was broke down. Which was a lot."
It worked. Because it always breaks down out there. It's crazy, like a roller coaster with no track. And nobody does it better than Dante Hall.
He couldn't tell you how he does it.
On second thought, maybe he just did.
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Kalani Simpson can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com