Dave Feit’s Greatest Huskers by the Numbers: 71

Dave Feit is counting down the days until the start of the 2025 season by naming the best Husker to wear each uniform number, as well as one of his personal favorites at that number. For more information about the series, click here. To see more entries, click here.

Greatest Husker to wear 71: Dean Steinkuhler, Offensive Guard, 1979 – 1983

Honorable Mention: Carl Johnson, Bob Liggett, Lloyd Voss

Also worn by: Jake Anderson, Mark Doak, Matt Farniok, Steve Glenn, Harvey Goth, Wayne Handshy, Alex Lewis, Jeremiah Sirles, Mike Van Cleave

Dave’s Fave: Steinkuhler

I’ve seen the claim that Dean Steinkuhler’s hometown (Burr, Nebraska) is the smallest town ever to produce a college football All-American. I’m not going to try to verify that against hundreds of All-America players in the last century, but that claim sure seems plausible. In 1980 – around the time Dean was in high school – Burr had a population of 101. In the 2020 census, the village of Burr had dipped to 52 people.

I can confirm that of Nebraska’s 108 first-team All-Americans, only two others came from towns with fewer than 500 people:

Guy Chamberlain of beautiful Blue Springs, Nebraska (population 275)
Kyle Larson of Funk, Nebraska (population 175).

Steinkuhler was known as “The Burr Oak.” Strong and rugged, he possessed a strong work ethic that was matched only by his desire to win. If there was a competition – sprints at practice, records in the weight room – he wanted to be first.

By his junior year, 1982, he was starting next to center Dave Rimington. Not surprisingly, Nebraska ran for an average of 394.3 yards per game. Heck, Tom Osborne could have called nothing but fullback dives and quarterback sneaks and the Huskers would have run for 325.

In 1983, Steinkuhler was the anchor for an offensive line that paved the way for the Scoring Explosion offense. Nebraska averaged a ridiculous 401.7 yards rushing and 52 points per game. He was a first-team All-American and won the Outland and Lombardi Trophies, the 13th player to sweep the awards.

Dean Steinkuhler in action against UCLA in 1983. | Malcolm Emmons-Imagn Images

Steinkuhler was the second overall pick in the 1984 NFL Draft,* the highest ever for a Nebraska lineman. His #71 jersey was retired in 1984. In 1999, he was named to the Sports Illustrated “All-Century” team.

*Fellow Husker Irving Fryar went first in the 1984 draft, making them the second set of teammates to ever be drafted 1-2.

Steinkuhler’s two sons – Ty and Baker – were both multiyear starters at Nebraska.

***

We’ve talked about the impact of legendary strength coach Boyd Epley already, and we’ll circle back to him later as well. You can think of those pieces as the delicious bread in the crap sandwich we’re about to consume.

Nebraska had a ton of success in the early part of the 1980s. Nebraska had amazing skill players, and the offensive line – under the coaching of Milt Tenopir and physical development of Epley – was paving the way. But that success came with a big downside: opposing coaches and fans assumed NU was cheating.

Especially in the 1980s, rumors of steroid use ran rampant.

After Oklahoma beat UCLA in 1986, Sooners head coach Barry Switzer told Sports Illustrated the Bruins are “not like Nebraska. They haven’t discovered steroids yet.” Switzer later called Osborne to apologize, but he had said out loud what many had been whispering.

Nebraska stared drug tests in 1984, which was two years before the NCAA mandated them. In 1986, Osborne said “I think over the years we’ve had some guys who have taken steroids … The thing I feel bad about is if the whole team over a long period of time is indicted.”

Starting drug testing in 1984 likely was not coincidental.

In a 1987 SI article, Dean Steinkuhler admitted to taking steroids near the end of his junior season (1982) and during his senior year (1983). Steinkuhler said he got them from an unnamed teammate. Steinkuhler claimed that “five or six” other offensive linemen were taking them as well.

Before Nebraska played at UCLA in 1988, Bruin coach Terry Donahue leveled more steroid allegations at Nebraska. Epley stood in front of reporters at the Friday walk-through and said that he would “resign immediately” if any of his staff provided or suggested taking steroids. He added that “as far as we know, with our best efforts, we don’t have players on steroids.”

For whatever it’s worth – and I have no facts to back this up – I don’t believe steroids were ever a widespread issue at Nebraska. Yes, some players took them – as did famous players at other schools like Brian Bosworth. But I have a hard time believing that the strength coach industry – which Boyd Epley literally created – was based on pills and injections. Tom Osborne wasn’t perfect, but he built and maintained a pretty strong reputation for running a clean program that strove to do things the right way because it was the right thing to do.

Mostly, it’s this quote from Epley before the 1988 UCLA game that I think is important to remember whenever the steroid discussion comes up: “It takes away from the hard work of our players.”

It also impacts the legacies of those who used them. Despite being one of 13 players (at the time) to win the Outland and Lombardi in the same season, Dean Steinkuhler has not been elected to the College Football Hall of Fame.

Okay, enough of that. Let’s end of a positive note.

***

Fumblerooski.

Arguably, it the greatest word in the English language.*

*At least it was until an incredibly annoying State Farm commercial with Kansas City Chiefs head coach Andy Reid saying “bundle-rooski” ran 43 times a day for an entire football season…

For an offensive lineman – i.e., the guys who do all the work and only get noticed when they screw up – that magnificent word once was one of their few paths to glory.

The beauty of the fumblerooski is the sleight-of-hand deception. Executed properly, it is a magic trick. The quarterback and running back go to right, find a defender and ask, “Is this your card?” Meanwhile, a 270-pound locomotive is chugging around the left end toward the end zone.

Tom Osborne called the fumblerooski three times during his legendary career. But the scenario in which Osborne called this one, in the 1984 Orange Bowl against Miami, is almost impossible to comprehend. Midway through the first quarter, his No. 1-ranked, undefeated team was losing 17-0 to the No. 5 Hurricanes. The high-flying Scoring Explosion offense was sputtering. Nebraska was in the red zone and desperately needed a touchdown.

Facing third-and-five from the Miami 19, who did Osborne want to touch the ball? Not Heisman Trophy winner Mike Rozier. Not wingback Irving Fryar, who would be the No. 1 overall pick in the 1984 NFL Draft. Quarterback Turner Gill – one of the best to ever play the position at Nebraska – technically did touch it … barely. He dropped on the ground behind his offensive line. There it awaited the 270-pound Steinkuhler, who scooped it up, chugged around the end and rumbled toward the end zone.

NBC announces Don Criqui and John Brodie – along with their cameramen, director and millions watching on TV – had no idea what happened. In the live shot, you can see Steinkuhler pick the ball up and run around the left end, but the camera follows Gill as he and Rozier execute a perfect option fake to the right. The camera whips to the goal line as big Dean crashes in over a defender.

Criqui calls the touchdown, then says, “Now we’re going to see how it happened, ’cause I don’t know.”

On the play, there are a million things that can go wrong. Footballs are notoriously unpredictable objects when they are dropped. One of his teammates could have accidentally kicked it. An alert defender could have jumped on it or warned his teammates. An unprepared ref could blow the play dead. And so on…

Dean Steinkuhler blocks for Houston Oilers running back Alonzo Highsmith in 1989. | Dick Raphael-Imagn Images

Yet, the ball passes perfectly from center Mark Traynowicz to Gill, who barely touches it. It drops straight down, bounces once and nearly comes to rest as Steinkuhler scoops it up. I cannot begin to imagine the number of times this play was run in practice to give Osborne the confidence to call it on third-and-five, down 17 points. If it fails, Nebraska is likely getting blown out and the “can’t win the big one” criticisms reach dangerous levels.

Thankfully, an offensive lineman was there to save the day.

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