HSanders
disgusted and pissed
back in the day,we'd have a thread for each player drafted. since i am most intrigued by milton,i am starting his!
theathletic.com
The Athletic
For tantalizing NFL Draft prospect Joe Milton, third time could be the charm
By Nick Baumgardner
Aug 16, 2023
Dane Brugler has released his 2024 NFL Draft Big Board.
On the shores of Lake Okeechobee, down in “The Muck,” they run toward fire to keep from getting burned. This is where Joe Milton was born. Where he learned how to see through the smoke.
The legend of the Pahokee rabbit chasers deep in the Florida Everglades is well-documented. Young football hopefuls — and anybody else with spare time — spend parts of the fall and winter in sugar cane fields that have been set ablaze ahead of harvest. There, they sprint through the thick, hot mud after terrified rabbits, which dart out of the fields in search of freedom.
The boys who live for football are running for the same thing.
Kids who can catch 20 to 30 rabbits in a day — like Milton’s older cousins, former NFL receivers Anquan and D.J. Boldin — typically play skill positions. The rest tend to wind up on the line. But the commonality that links so many from Muck City is simple: When it comes to football, no dream is too big.
Milton never broke any rabbit-catching records. Nobody cared, though, primarily because Milton was bigger and stronger than most of his peers. But also because, if you stood close enough, you could hear it when he threw a football.
“Nobody in the world looks like you,” a coach once told Milton. “You look like a goddamn action figure.”
go-deeper
GO DEEPER
Inside Joe Milton's day with SEC media — arm obsession, Vols talk and "Pawwwlll"
The 2024 NFL Draft features the deepest quarterback class we’ve seen in years, highlighted by stars Caleb Williams and Drake Maye. And though he’s certainly taken the long way, it also features Milton — a 6-foot-5, 235-pound, sixth-year Tennessee QB by way of Michigan, by way of Orlando, by way of Muck City, with a right arm made of diamonds and dynamite.
Oh, and he’s made exactly nine starts in five years as a college football player. He’s lost his job twice, started over and refused to go away. He’s a guy who can throw a football (at least) 80 yards, before doing a backflip for good measure.
He could be the most interesting prospect in the 2024 draft class.
Joe Milton learned football in Orlando, at the desk of then-Olympia High School coach Kyle Hayes.
The oldest of seven children, Milton was born when his mother, DeShea Bouie, was still in high school. His identity as a big brother is perhaps his defining personality trait, and his tight bond with his mother anchors his life. If you want to find her at any Tennessee game, close your eyes and listen for the mom screaming, “Go Joe-Joe!” with unabashed glee over and over.
Milton enrolled at Olympia as a freshman, after his family moved from Pahokee to Orlando — partly in search of better exposure for Joe’s arm, partly to get away from hurricanes in the Everglades. In those days, Milton knew how to throw … and not much else about playing quarterback at a high level.
However, there was one natural gift he took with him from Pahokee: From the second Hayes inserted Milton at QB, he noticed how unbothered the kid was by a pass rush — or any other kind of pressure. Milton showed great quickness at his massive size and truly stood without fear in the pocket. But Hayes also says he never saw Milton lose his temper on a football field, no matter how rough things got.
Milton could, in a football sense, see through the smoke.
“He was always a listener, and that was always one of my favorite attributes. Right away,” Hayes says. “Now, he didn’t always do what you said. But he did listen.”
Hayes and Milton lived near each other. Milton took to staying with his coach after practice, sometimes as late as 10 p.m., doing homework, watching film, and talking about life before hitching a ride home.
Trust is earned. It’s also a process. Donovan Dooley, a private QB coach who has worked with Milton since Milton’s time at Michigan, echoed Hayes’ sentiments. Milton, he confirms, is a great listener and, to a degree, has always been coachable. He took notes, studied film, asked questions. But he also challenged coaches. He heard their instruction, even if he might have considered it optional.
He could be insistent on the hard path, too. In the most challenging moments on the field, Milton trusted his arm — which meant, really, that he relied on his own instinct over his training. The results? Deep-shot attempts on critical downs that weren’t necessary, no matter how close Milton came to landing them.
“Way too many foul balls,” Dooley says.
Milton had Division I interest before landing with Hayes at Olympia and was recruited nationally throughout his prep career. The best fit he found was with Pep Hamilton, then part of Jim Harbaugh’s offensive staff at Michigan.
Hamilton fell in love with Milton immediately, comparing him to Steve McNair. (Hamilton was a freshman quarterback on the 1993 Howard team that beat McNair’s Alcorn State team in a regular-season game.) Milton, in turn, completely trusted Hamilton. The coach talked to his QB about life and other topics in ways Hayes often had. Milton’s cousins, the Boldins, had worked with Harbaugh in the NFL, too, and vouched for him to Milton and his mother.
On paper, the fit looked exactly how it should have.
Then, two things happened: 1) Michigan fired Hamilton after Milton’s freshman season; 2) The Covid-19 pandemic hit.
Everything was microwaved during that shortened, strange 2020 season, including the QB competition Milton won over Dylan McCaffrey. There was no normal training camp, because nothing was normal, and Harbaugh had fired Hamilton in favor of Josh Gattis the previous year. Milton simply was not ready to run Michigan’s new offense — certainly not backed by a young depth chart, with an unproven coordinator, during a pandemic.
He also suffered a serious thumb injury during the opening series of the second game that year (a 27-24 upset loss to Michigan State), an injury that later required surgery. The rest of the season featured an awful lot of those “foul balls.”
Things spiraled and never recovered. Midway through its fifth game of 2020 (a win at Rutgers), Michigan replaced Milton with Cade McNamara, and that was a wrap.
Outside observers were surprised and skeptical when Milton passed McCaffrey in the first place. However, had you polled Michigan’s players at the time, you would have gotten a totally different response. Milton’s teammates adored him. When that year started, Milton stood as easily the locker room’s most respected QB.
Inside a football building, Milton is magnetic. He shows up early, stays late, supports everyone and usually can be found smiling. Teammates and coaches describe him as a player who is totally and genuinely in love with being part of a football team and everything that comes with it.
Milton enrolled at Michigan in January 2018 as a kid from Florida who knew no one. Four months later, on Michigan’s offseason team trip to France, he and (older) teammate Nico Collins held court — with players of all ages — in their Parisian hotel-issued bath robes during a swanky lunch.
Milton can hold a conversation with anyone. He can get along with anyone.
His combination of effort, energy and a willingness to root for his teammates has kept him in the conversation for every job he’s chased, even the ones he wasn’t ready to win. During his freshman year at Michigan, for example, when Harbaugh brought in QB Shea Patterson and appealed for Patterson’s immediate eligibility, coaches spent most of spring telling reporters in quiet moments that they were blown away by nearly everything Milton was doing.
His arm talent overwhelmed people, which generally did nothing but ramp up the voice inside Milton’s young head that his on-field instincts were correct — and that dedication to the process remained optional.
“He was still learning how to live the quarterback position,” Dooley recalls of Milton’s time at Michigan, “versus just playing it.”
The same thing happened when Milton transferred to Tennessee. He beat out Hendon Hooker — a more seasoned passer at the time — and was named the team’s starter ahead of 2021. However, water leveled and Hooker eventually won the job back, bumping Milton to the bench. That flip also pushed Milton into one of the longest looks in the mirror he’s ever taken.
His flashes have always been brilliant, enough to blind coaches from areas of his game that were lagging. In training camp, his arm would look like the ultimate mistake-eraser. Then, games would start, defenses would adjust and Milton would revert to old habits.
Milton knew football. He just didn’t always understand it.
“By then it was, ‘If you don’t go out there and (dedicate yourself fully to football) and get this s—- done, then shame on you,” Dooley told him at the time. “Shame on you. Either you’re going to be making first downs or rebounds, but your ass is playing in somebody’s professional league.”
According to just about everyone in his circle, Milton has answered the bell every day since.
For his college career, Joe Milton has 2,540 yards passing and 17 touchdowns. (Eakin Howard / Getty Images)
Milton’s biggest issue as a college passer has been two-pronged: Inconsistent accuracy and not a deep enough understanding of how a defense reacts to what an offense is doing.
Why talented Tennessee QB Joe Milton still has the NFL's attention
With Hendon Hooker off to the NFL, Joe Milton again holds the reins to Tennessee's potent offense. He's more ready than ever for the job.
theathletic.com
For tantalizing NFL Draft prospect Joe Milton, third time could be the charm
By Nick Baumgardner
Aug 16, 2023
Dane Brugler has released his 2024 NFL Draft Big Board.
On the shores of Lake Okeechobee, down in “The Muck,” they run toward fire to keep from getting burned. This is where Joe Milton was born. Where he learned how to see through the smoke.
The legend of the Pahokee rabbit chasers deep in the Florida Everglades is well-documented. Young football hopefuls — and anybody else with spare time — spend parts of the fall and winter in sugar cane fields that have been set ablaze ahead of harvest. There, they sprint through the thick, hot mud after terrified rabbits, which dart out of the fields in search of freedom.
The boys who live for football are running for the same thing.
Kids who can catch 20 to 30 rabbits in a day — like Milton’s older cousins, former NFL receivers Anquan and D.J. Boldin — typically play skill positions. The rest tend to wind up on the line. But the commonality that links so many from Muck City is simple: When it comes to football, no dream is too big.
Milton never broke any rabbit-catching records. Nobody cared, though, primarily because Milton was bigger and stronger than most of his peers. But also because, if you stood close enough, you could hear it when he threw a football.
“Nobody in the world looks like you,” a coach once told Milton. “You look like a goddamn action figure.”
go-deeper
GO DEEPER
Inside Joe Milton's day with SEC media — arm obsession, Vols talk and "Pawwwlll"
The 2024 NFL Draft features the deepest quarterback class we’ve seen in years, highlighted by stars Caleb Williams and Drake Maye. And though he’s certainly taken the long way, it also features Milton — a 6-foot-5, 235-pound, sixth-year Tennessee QB by way of Michigan, by way of Orlando, by way of Muck City, with a right arm made of diamonds and dynamite.
Oh, and he’s made exactly nine starts in five years as a college football player. He’s lost his job twice, started over and refused to go away. He’s a guy who can throw a football (at least) 80 yards, before doing a backflip for good measure.
He could be the most interesting prospect in the 2024 draft class.
Joe Milton learned football in Orlando, at the desk of then-Olympia High School coach Kyle Hayes.
The oldest of seven children, Milton was born when his mother, DeShea Bouie, was still in high school. His identity as a big brother is perhaps his defining personality trait, and his tight bond with his mother anchors his life. If you want to find her at any Tennessee game, close your eyes and listen for the mom screaming, “Go Joe-Joe!” with unabashed glee over and over.
Milton enrolled at Olympia as a freshman, after his family moved from Pahokee to Orlando — partly in search of better exposure for Joe’s arm, partly to get away from hurricanes in the Everglades. In those days, Milton knew how to throw … and not much else about playing quarterback at a high level.
However, there was one natural gift he took with him from Pahokee: From the second Hayes inserted Milton at QB, he noticed how unbothered the kid was by a pass rush — or any other kind of pressure. Milton showed great quickness at his massive size and truly stood without fear in the pocket. But Hayes also says he never saw Milton lose his temper on a football field, no matter how rough things got.
Milton could, in a football sense, see through the smoke.
“He was always a listener, and that was always one of my favorite attributes. Right away,” Hayes says. “Now, he didn’t always do what you said. But he did listen.”
Hayes and Milton lived near each other. Milton took to staying with his coach after practice, sometimes as late as 10 p.m., doing homework, watching film, and talking about life before hitching a ride home.
Trust is earned. It’s also a process. Donovan Dooley, a private QB coach who has worked with Milton since Milton’s time at Michigan, echoed Hayes’ sentiments. Milton, he confirms, is a great listener and, to a degree, has always been coachable. He took notes, studied film, asked questions. But he also challenged coaches. He heard their instruction, even if he might have considered it optional.
He could be insistent on the hard path, too. In the most challenging moments on the field, Milton trusted his arm — which meant, really, that he relied on his own instinct over his training. The results? Deep-shot attempts on critical downs that weren’t necessary, no matter how close Milton came to landing them.
“Way too many foul balls,” Dooley says.
Milton had Division I interest before landing with Hayes at Olympia and was recruited nationally throughout his prep career. The best fit he found was with Pep Hamilton, then part of Jim Harbaugh’s offensive staff at Michigan.
Hamilton fell in love with Milton immediately, comparing him to Steve McNair. (Hamilton was a freshman quarterback on the 1993 Howard team that beat McNair’s Alcorn State team in a regular-season game.) Milton, in turn, completely trusted Hamilton. The coach talked to his QB about life and other topics in ways Hayes often had. Milton’s cousins, the Boldins, had worked with Harbaugh in the NFL, too, and vouched for him to Milton and his mother.
On paper, the fit looked exactly how it should have.
Then, two things happened: 1) Michigan fired Hamilton after Milton’s freshman season; 2) The Covid-19 pandemic hit.
Everything was microwaved during that shortened, strange 2020 season, including the QB competition Milton won over Dylan McCaffrey. There was no normal training camp, because nothing was normal, and Harbaugh had fired Hamilton in favor of Josh Gattis the previous year. Milton simply was not ready to run Michigan’s new offense — certainly not backed by a young depth chart, with an unproven coordinator, during a pandemic.
He also suffered a serious thumb injury during the opening series of the second game that year (a 27-24 upset loss to Michigan State), an injury that later required surgery. The rest of the season featured an awful lot of those “foul balls.”
Things spiraled and never recovered. Midway through its fifth game of 2020 (a win at Rutgers), Michigan replaced Milton with Cade McNamara, and that was a wrap.
Outside observers were surprised and skeptical when Milton passed McCaffrey in the first place. However, had you polled Michigan’s players at the time, you would have gotten a totally different response. Milton’s teammates adored him. When that year started, Milton stood as easily the locker room’s most respected QB.
Inside a football building, Milton is magnetic. He shows up early, stays late, supports everyone and usually can be found smiling. Teammates and coaches describe him as a player who is totally and genuinely in love with being part of a football team and everything that comes with it.
Milton enrolled at Michigan in January 2018 as a kid from Florida who knew no one. Four months later, on Michigan’s offseason team trip to France, he and (older) teammate Nico Collins held court — with players of all ages — in their Parisian hotel-issued bath robes during a swanky lunch.
Milton can hold a conversation with anyone. He can get along with anyone.
His combination of effort, energy and a willingness to root for his teammates has kept him in the conversation for every job he’s chased, even the ones he wasn’t ready to win. During his freshman year at Michigan, for example, when Harbaugh brought in QB Shea Patterson and appealed for Patterson’s immediate eligibility, coaches spent most of spring telling reporters in quiet moments that they were blown away by nearly everything Milton was doing.
His arm talent overwhelmed people, which generally did nothing but ramp up the voice inside Milton’s young head that his on-field instincts were correct — and that dedication to the process remained optional.
“He was still learning how to live the quarterback position,” Dooley recalls of Milton’s time at Michigan, “versus just playing it.”
The same thing happened when Milton transferred to Tennessee. He beat out Hendon Hooker — a more seasoned passer at the time — and was named the team’s starter ahead of 2021. However, water leveled and Hooker eventually won the job back, bumping Milton to the bench. That flip also pushed Milton into one of the longest looks in the mirror he’s ever taken.
His flashes have always been brilliant, enough to blind coaches from areas of his game that were lagging. In training camp, his arm would look like the ultimate mistake-eraser. Then, games would start, defenses would adjust and Milton would revert to old habits.
Milton knew football. He just didn’t always understand it.
“By then it was, ‘If you don’t go out there and (dedicate yourself fully to football) and get this s—- done, then shame on you,” Dooley told him at the time. “Shame on you. Either you’re going to be making first downs or rebounds, but your ass is playing in somebody’s professional league.”
According to just about everyone in his circle, Milton has answered the bell every day since.
For his college career, Joe Milton has 2,540 yards passing and 17 touchdowns. (Eakin Howard / Getty Images)
Milton’s biggest issue as a college passer has been two-pronged: Inconsistent accuracy and not a deep enough understanding of how a defense reacts to what an offense is doing.
