Henry Gizmo Williams

The football comes down out of the sky to the little man who waits, alone and vulnerable while a tidal wave of angry humanity flows toward him. In the world of games men play for pay, there may be no position that requires more courage than that of football's punt returner. And nobody on either side of the 49th parallel has ever done it better than Henry (The Gizmo) Williams. But if you equate what he does for a living with pressure, then you don't know where Gizmo Williams has been or, even more terrifying, where he is going.

Pressure is waking up in the morning and in those first few moments after your eyes flutter open, taking stock, listening to your body. Any tingling? Any numbness? Vision clear? Not dizzy? "To this point I have no symptoms, none." See, Williams comes from a family that has been virtually wiped out by multiple sclerosis, a disease of the central nervous system. It took his mother first, back in 1969, then started in on the kids. Since then it has claimed seven of his 10 brothers and sisters. One brother was shot to death in Memphis, the Williams family's hometown. Another sister died of a drug overdose in California. "There are certain stages that you watch for," he said. "Loss of balance and dizziness, blurred vision, then comes the wheelchair, next comes the loss of your voice and then you are confined to your bed. Nobody in my family has lived beyond the age of 35." Gizmo is 38. There is not an ounce of self-pity or `Why me?' in his voice as he recounts this tragic saga. "People ask me if I worry about it," he said. "I never worry about something I can't control. I believe in God. I was scared for my kids (Marcus, 7; Henry, Jr., 12), but they've both tested negative for the muscle disease."