The Lazards Cement Their Legacy As Captains

Story by Kevin Horner, Iowa State Athletics Communications Student Assistant

Kevin Lazard sat in a familiar spot when he received the call.

Beside a football field, Kevin watched Valley High host Bettendorf in West Des Moines. Kevin Jensen and Jason Young, former teammates of Lazard's at Iowa State, watched alongside Kevin as Young's son, Michael, led Bettendorf under center.

Only a few years had passed since Kevin had been in that same position — coaching his son Allen from the sideline at Urbandale High School. Things had escalated quickly since then for Kevin, Allen and the Lazards — several D-I scholarship offers, national media attention, two years as one of ISU's top receiving targets.

His phone rang.

"I've got something to tell you," said Allen slowly. He paused, as if to catch his breath.

Kevin's mind raced with worry — preparing for any potential bad news a father might expect.

He braced for the news.

***

Kevin Lazard awoke with a realization.

It was Houston, 1986. Kevin was just a freshman in high school, but he knew he needed to find a way to get to college — and find it soon. He grabbed a basketball, headed out to his local park and let the self-assessment begin.

After an hour or two of shooting around, critiquing and evaluating his skill level and potential, Kevin arrived at a few more realizations: his skill level wasn't very high, he had yet to reach six feet and, based on the looks of his parents, he thought he might never break past 5-foot-11.

From that point on, he focused on football — as did many in Texas at the time. Football was a religion in that area. The competition helped shaped Kevin.

The sport terrified him at first. He even asked his mother to accompany him when he asked his middle school coach if he could play. He was timid, small and skinny — not the ideal characteristics of a football player in Texas — but little by little, he gained confidence.

He was tough. He loved being put on the inner trenches, fighting for every yard. He loved hustling hard and tackling, making sure he earned his place given his initial physical disadvantage. This was Texas, and Kevin was a sub-six-foot, skinny kid who started playing in middle school.

His success wasn't given; it was earned.

Not all were like Kevin, though — especially in Texas. Many had more talent and received more attention — from their peers, from the media, from a variety of schools. All of these outside influences chipped away at these players. These kids.

By the end of their high school careers, they were no longer individuals. They were products of the media praise, the fans, the crowds.

Kevin kept working. Every day, every snap.

Eventually, this work paid off — in the form of a scholarship letter, a lone scholarship letter, from none other than Iowa State University. It seemed as if Kevin was destined to be a Cyclone.

"It was a no-brainer," Kevin said. "That was my opportunity to go to college."

Like he had done every day of his football career, Kevin worked to ease the transition from Bellflower, California — where his family had moved during his sophomore year — to Ames, Iowa. He gained as much knowledge about the area, the people and the winters as he could. Soon Kevin was a Cyclone, playing football for coach Jim Walden.

From the beginning, he knew his role — work hard, help his team succeed, avoid distractions. Rinse and repeat.

"It was a time where I wanted to make sure I knew my assignment and that I was going to not let the team down," Kevin said.

Kevin fixed his gaze on his goals — executing on every play, staying mentally strong and bringing the team success. He had no time or desire to look around at potential distractions or even inwardly at his individual success. He kept his head down, worked hard and competed for his teammates.

Maybe that's why it came as such a surprise when Walden named Kevin co-captain for his senior season.

"I was very, very proud," Kevin said. "It was moment that I didn't see coming, to tell you the truth. I didn't know that I even had a chance to be named a captain. I didn't see myself in that role. So it was kind of a surreal moment — a big hit to me. But I know the importance of it; I knew what it stood for and I tried to live it to the best I could for the team."

Despite this new title, Kevin's role on the team basically remained the same. He still worked hard. He still did whatever he could to benefit his teammates. These responsibilities just amplified. He became more vocal. He put even more pressure on himself to make plays.

This wasn't an opportunity to boast for Kevin. This wasn't a résumé-booster. This was a responsibility — the most important of Kevin's life at the time.

He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

***

Kevin Lazard pulled his boys aside.

Allen and Anthony, separated by two years, gathered around their father as he broke down a certain play on the T.V. screen. He would point out the smallest niches in a certain player's technique — a subtle hitch to a route, a missed blocking assignment, a mental error — hoping his boys would learn.

Kevin never missed a teaching opportunity if he could help it.

"He did a lot of little things like that where it didn't really seem like much at the time, but a lot of it added up," Allen said.

Although Kevin shared a number of similar characteristics with Allen — a love for football, a drive to work hard and succeed — one key difference remained between Kevin's early football days and Allen's: athletic disposition.

See, Kevin had always been athletic, yet he lacked some of the natural talent possessed by a number of his peers. Allen didn't lack that talent — that was clear early on to Kevin and his wife, Mary. It was made even clearer when the Urbandale High varsity football coached called Allen up during his freshman season.

Naturally, the outside influences arose. Kevin knew them all too well — the media, the Division I attention and now the particularly powerful social networks. Offers flooded in from around the country — Notre Dame, Nebraska, California, Stanford — and Allen's popularity grew. It seemed as if everyone was talking about this All-American wide receiver out of Urbandale, Iowa.

"We noticed when [Allen] was young how talented he was, and we knew how other people perceived him," Kevin said. "So we made sure to have that conversation with him to always stay humble — not to let outside influences change who you are and make you boast about your different achievements."

Whenever Kevin or Mary would see an example similar to their son's situation, they'd show it to Allen — using it as a lesson for how to behave and handle success. Never missing an opportunity to teach.

Allen, like his father, continued to work hard, his eyes focused ahead toward his goals. He constantly looked for ways to better his teammates — setting better blocks, sacrificing his own targets for his fellow receivers. He was a leader and an outstanding athlete, but not just an individual. Above all, he was a member of a team.

The team came before Allen's individual success. Just like his father.

"[Allen] doesn't go out there and just say, 'throw me the ball' and 'I can catch the ball, just get it to me,'" Kevin said. "He's like, 'I'm going to block to help my teammates out, and I'm going to do that in such a way that's efficient, effective and going to help give them the glory.' His teammates see that and think, 'man, this dude could be all this. He could be upset every game when we don't win. He could be upset and yelling at the quarterbacks.' But he looks at it from a standpoint of, 'how can I help my teammates get better?'"

Despite all of this, despite all of the accolades, praise and media attention, Kevin knew his son. He knew of his humility, his unselfishness, his positivity and his willingness to make sacrifices for his teammates. Others may have buckled, cracked under the weight of popularity and success, but not Allen. Not his son.

There Kevin sat, watching on that sideline in West Des Moines. It was a Friday — just over a week until Allen and the Cyclones were set to open the season against UNI.

Kevin's phone buzzed in his pocket.

***

Kevin Lazard clutched his phone tightly in anticipation.

"I was voted the team captain for this year," Allen said.

Now it was Kevin who paused. He didn't know if he'd heard his son correctly.

"I was voted team captain!"

Immediate elation and pride overcame Kevin as he listened to his son tell him about the honor he'd just received. Being named a co-captain his senior year had been Kevin's proudest accomplishment at Iowa State, and as he could sense in his son's voice over the phone, Allen felt the same way.

For Kevin, it wasn't about the one-handed grabs, the tip-toe catches on the sidelines or the leaping touchdown snags. It wasn't even about a Division I scholarship to play for his alma mater. It was about what this nomination reflected about Allen's character.

"Allen hasn't changed at all," Kevin said, "Typically what I've seen in the past with kids is that when they reach a certain level of status, they change. They tend to change from all of the influences around them — from all the attention, the hype — but Allen has stayed the Allen that we've known all of our lives. We're very proud of that."

Allen had the talent. He had the height. He had the skills. He had plenty of reason to boast in his own ability.

The challenges came and went. Allen remained Allen — the Allen shaped by his parents, Kevin and Mary; the Allen who had remained humble and grounded despite his success; the Allen who, in his father's mind, was the perfect candidate to captain the Iowa State football team.

"I haven't given him any advice, honestly, on how to be a captain," Kevin said. "I have no doubt he knows the importance of it and how to handle it. I have no doubt he knows exactly what to do and how to do it.

"I have nothing to give, but just, 'great job.'"

Iowa State University Athletics

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