THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 14, 1995 TAG: 9505120214
SECTION: PORTSMOUTH CURRENTS PAGE: 18 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: The Sports Editor
SOURCE: Bill Leffler
LENGTH: Short : 50 lines
SOME PEOPLE you never forget.
For me, one of those was Yogi Hardin. Yet, quite likely, if we had crossed a corner together we would not have known one another.
Not since I was a rookie sports writer and Hardin was a high school football player at Cradock - back in the mid-1950s - had we seen each other.
I thought his name was Yogi until one of his teammates told me how James R. Hardin Jr. picked up the nickname.
It was a hot August afternoon when Ed Austin, now the mayor of Jacksonville, Fla., was helping Cradock coach Larry Weldon get the Admirals ready for the upcoming season.
The 5-10, 190-pound Hardin was working out on a sled. ``Hey,'' said Austin, ``you really look like Yogi Berra.''
None of his teammates ever called him Jim again.
Hardin went on to become an All-Southeastern District tackle on some of Cradock's finest football teams.
And it was a time when a lesser individual might have quit. His father died and he moved in with the family of fellow tackle Ralph Hicks.
Hardin gained an athletic scholarship to Western Kentucky, where he became the finest nose guard in school history and served as team captain his senior year. Three times he was named to the Little All-America team. He only weighed 215 pounds.
Yogi joined the Marines and served two hitches, going back for a second time to serve in Vietnam, where he was a company commander of a rifle unit.
Then came another career in the FBI. It was with the FBI that he developed the physical training program used by SWAT teams.
Yogi and wife, Pat, made their home in Smithfield after his retirement from the FBI. And even with a replaced knee cap, Hardin found time to work out nearly every day.
At 58, he weighed just 175, less than his high school playing weight.
A week or so ago he was bothered by what had been determined to be a throat ulcer. But on Tuesday afternoon he died at home.
On Saturday, some of his old Cradock teammates were among those at Christ Episcopal Church for a memorial service.
And Ralph Hicks tearfully recalled that afternoon 42 years ago when Yogi got his nickname. by CNB