Catching Up With... WARREN GRAY
Like his older brother, Phil, Warren Gray was a highly-touted, all-state lineman from Fayette County (Ga.) who signed to play football for Georgia under head coach Vince Dooley. As part of the Bulldogs’ distinguished 1980 incoming class, Gray, as a reserve offensive guard, was one of the few true freshmen to see playing time that season. Although not the most gifted athlete, Gray, according to Dooley prior to the 1981 season, had “so many intangible qualities to make him a good [lineman]—eventually.”
“Eventually” was more like “immediately,” as Gray started at left tackle as a sophomore in 1981. After missing the first half of the following year with an injury, he started at offensive guard his final season and a half as a Bulldog. During a Georgia career in which he experienced an unimaginable family tragedy, Gray was twice named first-team Academic All-SEC (1981 and 1983)—one of only two Bulldogs earning such a distinction for each season—and received the Hugh Hendrix Award as the UGA player who most “strains his potential.” In addition, of Georgia’s 29 signees in 1980, Gray was one of just nine to letter all four seasons from 1980-1983.
I recently caught up with Warren at his home in Newnan, Ga.
Warren, besides Georgia, did you consider signing with any other schools? And in the end, why did you decide to become a Bulldog?
Gray: I kind of considered Clemson, because its head coach, Danny Ford, and his coaching staff, were charismatic and kind of laid back. That fit my personality. Still, I'd always been a Georgia Bulldog. As a kid, I’d sit in my living room with my dad, listening to Larry Munson on the radio. And of course, my brother was already at Georgia and part of the football team. I knew deep down inside that Georgia was where I wanted to go.
Speaking of Phil, tell me briefly about your older brother’s time at Georgia.
When I was still in high school, Phil would come home from school when he could, and sometimes he'd bring some teammates. I always wanted to hang out with them and ask questions. By the time I got to Georgia, Phil had already suffered two or three knee injuries, and it was apparent he wasn’t going to play anymore. But, the team kept him on as a student assistant coach, and he still lived in McWhorter Hall (the on-campus athletic dorm). When I got to Georgia, whenever I needed advice, I’d always go ask my brother. He was majoring in education and planning on being a teacher and a coach. When Coach Gibbs (Alex Gibbs, the Bulldogs’ offensive line coach from 1982-1983) got to Georgia, Phil was about to graduate. It was known that my brother wanted to be a coach, so Coach Gibbs invited him to be a graduate assistant to start his coaching career. Man, that’s all Phil could talk about at the time—how he was about to start learning what he wanted to do in life.
With Herschel Walker highlighting the class, what made Georgia’s group of incoming freshmen in 1980 so special?
I think that ’80 class had a unique bond because a lot of us already knew one another from recruiting trips. Most of us were overshadowed, because if you went on a recruiting trip, and Herschel was there, you might not get a lot of attention (laughing). And, that’s certainly understandable. Everyone knew Herschel was going to be very special. But the 1983 seniors also included some standout players, like John Lastinger, Guy McIntyre, and James Brown, who had signed the year before but would be redshirted. And they were primarily redshirted because of injuries—not like today, when redshirts are often given to keep a guy around for another year. Also in that class were walk-ons, guys on the scout team—and I look at them the same way I do guys who played. The scout team played a significant role in preparing us for games, working just as hard—if not harder.
Entering Georgia, did you ever imagine you’d be part of a national championship team as a true freshman?
When I decided to come to Georgia, nowhere in my mind did I think we’d be national champions that very season. And if everybody from the football team is being honest with themselves, I don’t think any of them thought that either. Personally, I thought at the time, man, I couldn’t have picked a better time to come to the University of Georgia. It was unbelievable.
Within your first season or two, did you have a moment when you realized you were playing football for a big-time program?
One thing I definitely remember being a lesson to me was at practice one day when I was a freshman. I'd messed up royally. Coach McDuffie (Wayne McDuffie, the Bulldogs’ offensive line coach from 1977-1981) lined me up across from Nat Hudson, a senior offensive tackle who was one of the biggest guys on the team. Nat was a beast! Coach told Nat, “Run Warren over, and drive him into the ground.” And that’s what he did! Nat then said to me, “Welcome to the SEC, Warren.” But he followed by telling me not to feel down—that he only did what Coach had told him to do.
What was the difference between being coached by Wayne McDuffie (the Bulldogs’ offensive line coach from 1977-1981), followed by Alex Gibbs, both of whom promptly coached in the NFL after their stints at Georgia?
They had very different styles. Looking for near-perfection in blocking, McDuffie was a very technical coach. He worked us hard. There were a couple of times we had to drive a sled right after a game, because he thought we hadn’t played well—and we probably didn’t. On the other hand, Coach Gibbs wasn’t very technical. He popularized the zone blocking scheme, which, for me personally, made it so much easier to block. After Georgia, Coach Gibbs went on to the NFL where he introduced the zone blocking scheme as the offensive line coach of the Denver Broncos.
(It was at this point that I inquired with Warren if it would be okay for me to ask about the death of his older brother. Phil Gray, who was 22 years old at the time, was killed in a tractor accident in early June of 1982, or just a couple of months before he was to begin working as a UGA graduate assistant.)
I don't have a problem at all talking about it. Anytime we had time off, my brother and I would come home (Fayetteville, Ga.) and do odd jobs. That particular weekend, we'd come home, and we were to haul hay from one field to another. We each got dropped off at separate fields, and each started hauling hay. Phil was eventually supposed to meet me at the field I was at. Well, about three or four hours had gone by, and he had yet to show up. About that time, a state patrol car drove up. The trooper walked up to me asking for me to come down from the tractor. He grabbed my shoulder and my hand and said, “Warren, there’s been an accident.” I just knew right then it wasn’t good—very, very tragic. For my entire life, my brother had been someone I'd looked up to.
How were you able to deal with Phil’s death, and prepare yourself, considering fall camp of the 1982 season was to begin less than two months after the tragedy?
It was very tough because, at that point in time, I hadn’t even lost a grandparent. I felt a sense of loss, but I knew I had to carry on. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about it, but I knew life had to go on. Me saying, “Woe is me,” wasn’t the way to go. I needed to press on just like my mom, dad, sister, and younger brother had to press on after the loss. Of course I got a lot of support. Coach Dooley and a lot of the players and other coaches came to Phil’s funeral. My roommate at the time was Tim Crowe (senior defensive lineman), who had been long-time friends with my brother. I really have Tim to thank for helping me through the whole ordeal. Even today, Tim and I are close friends and we sometimes talk about Phil.
You tore ligaments in your ankle only about a week before the opener against Clemson, forcing you to miss the first half of the season. That year, a black heart was displayed on the back of the team’s helmets in honor of Phil. How meaningful was it for your brother to be honored by the team in such fashion?
It was very special, and actually one of the things that helped me get through it. Every time I put my game helmet on and saw the black heart on the back, it gave me chills. By the end of the season, you’d think things [concerning the black heart decal] would have settled down for everyone else. But, right before we ran out onto the field to play Penn State in the Sugar Bowl to end the season, the late Jimmy Harper (junior offensive lineman) told the team to remember that heart—and that he was going to play the game for Phil Gray. For “Mountain” (Harper’s nickname) to dedicate the game to Phil, that was something really special. I tell you, I eventually got my game face on when I got out onto the field, but I think I “boohooed” all the way out the tunnel.
After Herschel departed early for the upstart USFL following the 1982 season, Georgia was picked to finish around fourth in the SEC after winning the conference three consecutive years. Then, after going 9-1-1, and nearly winning the SEC, the Bulldogs—a significant underdog—faced No. 2-ranked and undefeated Texas in the Cotton Bowl. What’s your feedback regarding the team seemingly overcoming great odds in both situations?
Well, I think a lot of people didn’t take us that seriously because Herschel had left. But we weren’t going to allow that to change anything about the rest of us. Winning as many games as we did, we were fairly successful. And, honestly, I never doubted we could beat Texas. That ’83 Georgia team had a lot of average players; however, it had a lot of players with big hearts. Texas had all these guys projected to play in the NFL, but we weren’t intimidated. We thought of it as having been there before—three straight Sugar Bowls [to end the 1980-1982 seasons]—and we were going to go out with a bang. And that’s what we did (a 7-1/2-point underdog, Georgia upset Texas, 10 to 9).
After playing one season with the Jacksonville Bulls of the USFL, how did you eventually get into your current line of work, land surveying?
Land surveying had been my summer job during high school. After I graduated from Georgia, I didn’t really find a job I wanted in agriculture (Gray’s major), so I reverted back to land surveying. And I've been doing it ever since. I started off working for the guy I worked for in high school. In 1999, I started my own land surveying business, W.D. Gray and Associates.
Tell me about your family.
My wife Stacy and I were married before my last year in school. We have three daughters—two school teachers and a nurse—Kody, who has four children; Mallory has two boys; and Shelby, who is 24 years old, is our youngest. My three girls didn’t give me much trouble—and I thank God for that (laughing).
Do you currently associate yourself with the UGA football program in any way?
I try to come back for special events, like reunions or the once-a-year letterman’s barbecue. I try to make it to as many of those as I can. I really like the progression the program has made in recent years, and I think we’re on the right path for continued success.
Finally, the last statement in your bio in UGA’s media guide for the 1984 Cotton Bowl versus Texas—your last game at Georgia—described you as a “steady performer who, despite bumps and bruises, is always ready when the horn sounds.” Is that a fair assessment of your play as a Bulldog?
(Chuckling) Well, yeah, I think that’s a good description. I wasn’t the most athletic guy, so I knew that if I was ever going to play—especially be a starter—I couldn’t slack off at practice, or take off any practice time. Besides the torn ligaments in my ankle, if any injury was nagging me, I still had to be out there performing, or I knew I wouldn’t be starting. But more so than seeing a good deal of playing time, I really appreciate the fact that I first got offered a scholarship from Coach Dooley, and then had the opportunity to play for the University of Georgia in the first place. I also really appreciate my teammates and all the friends I made. When my teammates and I get back together, it’s like we pick up where we left off. We all went through a lot together. They’re my friends for life, and I am grateful for them. You can’t put a value on the memories we have together.