1970 Was the Year of Sixkiller, a Coming-Out Party for a Seattle Sports Icon

The Pilots packed up and moved to Milwaukee, leaving Seattle without a big-league baseball team. The SuperSonics lost Bob Rule, its best player and best chance at reaching the NBA playoffs, to a torn Achilles heel. In New York, George Foreman knocked out popular local heavyweight boxer Boone Kirkman in two agonizing rounds.

Amid all of this Seattle sporting despair in 1970, Sonny Sixkiller emerged out of nowhere and gave the city a huge jolt of excitement.

He was a University of Washington quarterback who wore his name as his jersey number, unloaded a long touchdown pass on the fourth play of his first game and ushered in a swashbuckling era of Husky football never seen before or since.

Sixkiller assumed the role as headliner for a college program deemed fraught with racist practices -- and he was of Cherokee descent.

He became a lasting part of Seattle folklore, turning into a celebrity overnight, his slight 5-foot-11 stature rising almost to mythic proportions. His fame spread quickly.

After throwing 50 passes in the spring game, an eye-opening total for any Husky quarterback, Sixkiller got pulled over by a Seattle police officer while he was driving up the University Viaduct toward campus. While using his father's car, Sonny absentmindedly ran a stop sign and had to explain himself. The game wasn't two hours old.

"Do you know what you did?" the cop asked Sonny, before scanning his license and instantly recognizing the name. "Just watch it, kid. Hey, good game."

With Sixkiller directing this season-long aerial circus, he helped the Huskies bounce back from their worst record in school history (1-9) to a second-place Pac-8 Conference finish (6-4).

He led the nation in passing, completing 18.6 throws per game. He connected on 186 of 362 pass attempts for 2,303 yards and 15 touchdowns -- all school records.

Sixkiller was such a big draw, school officials tried to arrange for an 11th game while the 1970 season was well in progress. They proposed that it be held at Husky Stadium as a fund-raiser for Marshall, which lost its entire team that season in a horrific plane crash after a game, but they couldn't pull it off.

The young quarterback was the embodiment of cool on the football field, supplying a swagger that ran deep throughout his sophomore class, creating an infectious attitude that the fans absolutely loved.

"We were caught up being college guys and just having fun," Sixkiller said. "We were trying to be normal college kids, but we were free-spirited."

His antics brought national TV telecasts to the Huskies. College football fans everywhere wanted to see him in action. Sports Illustrated put him on its cover the next season, as would countless other magazines.

He had that song made for him. Kids throughout Seattle wore Sixkiller T-shirts. The Sonny Sixkiller Club was created by a local radio personality. Everybody wanted to reach out and touch him.

People couldn't wait to see what Sixkiller might do next as a UW junior and a senior. Yet for those ensuing seasons, he wouldn't be quite the same as this hard-throwing quarterback. No one else seemed to notice.

He kept landing on his shoulder in practice throughout his sophomore campaign, weakening the joint. It stayed a well-kept secret.

"To be honest with you, I was able to hide a torn rotator cuff for the last two years," Sixkiller said. "That was a problem. I don't know exactly how it happened."

To be certain, Sonny lost some velocity off his fastball going forward. Yet his presence alone on the field kept the Huskies scary and difficult for others to stop.