Sixkiller's Great Protector: Ex-Husky Rick Hayes Tries to Get Back on His Feet

Rick Hayes, this tough kid out of Chehalis, Washington, was Sonny Sixkiller's great protector.

On and off the football field.

He emerged as the University of Washington's starting left tackle right away, often was the Huskies' best offensive lineman and his mission was to keep everyone else from getting their hands on his high-profile quarterback.

This duty involved violent collisions on the Astroturf and roundhouse punches in various North Seattle taverns.

"We used to go get a few beers and it seemed like hell would always break loose, and I was always in the middle of it," he said. "I hated the racist (bleep) Sonny went through and I ended up protecting him and his reputation. We must have set a record for the number of bar fights we got in."

Nearly 50 years later, Hayes is the one who needs looking after. He lies in a Hawaiian hospital bed on the island of Kaua'i. He's in Room 117-B at the Kaua'i Veterans Memorial Hospital. He deals with a multitude of health issues stemming from a horrific auto accident a few years back.

Hayes collided with a dump truck hauling coral sand that pulled out in front of him. He suffered several compound leg fractures. Subsequent health issues complicate his situation.

"Ricky has been in a bad spot for a long time," said Patrick Hayes, his younger brother and a former UW offensive lineman, as well. "I need to find help for him."

That the older Hayes would be immobile for any extended amount of time runs highly contrary to the life he's led.

A self-prescribed free spirit with GQ looks, he was a globe-trotter for a long time, the life of the party, a beach bum. He went wherever the excitement took him from the Caribbean to Australia to Hawaii.

"I traveled the world more than anybody else," he said.

Along the way, Hayes encountered people he would never forget. For a time, he maintained a relationship with a woman named Ivana Winklmayr, someone who later became the first Mrs. Donald Trump.

"He was a spoiled brat when I met him," Hayes said of the 45th president. "He inherited all that money from his dad. He had $150 million bucks in his pocket. I couldn't compete with that. But I was with her before he was."

While Hayes made life fun and interesting, he was a magnet for periodic disaster.

In 1980, five years after he was drafted by the NFL and had a tryout with the Los Angeles Rams, an inebriated man shot Hayes point-blank with a handgun outside a restaurant in Kirkland, Washington.

Hayes was with his girlfriend at the time and good friend Bill Moos, a former Washington State football player who went to serve as athletic director at Montana, Oregon, WSU and now Nebraska.

The other man, who was a Seattle lawyer, tried to hit on Rick's girlfriend inside Reuben's Plankhouse. They exchanged words. Outside, the man pulled out a .38-caliber handgun and fired once, striking Rick in the neck, and ran away. The bullet lodged near his spinal cord.

"We'd gone to a birthday party for a friend of Bill's and decided to have a drink on the way home," Hayes said. "He ambushed us. He was drunk on his (bleep) and didn't know what he was doing. I felt my arm go numb. The doctors think I got lucky. It was a big fiasco."

The other man went to prison and Hayes won a $1.3 million judgement in court to be paid out over 10 years.

As a Husky football player, Hayes carried a chiseled 6-foot-4, 230-pound frame and wore No. 68. He impressed the coaches with his strength and mobility and played right away. He showed great devotion to shielding Sixkiller.

He lined up as a sophomore next to Bruce Jarvis, Ernie Janet and Wayne Sortun, all seniors and NFL-bound. As a junior, he carried the reputation as the Huskies' top blocker. As a senior, he dislocated his elbow in the opener and missed the season, coming back in 1973 after Sixkiller was gone.

He played an overly physical game, which was a badge of honor for him, and a headache for the equipment crew. He wonders if he suffers from chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE).

"I broke 16 helmets protecting Sonny," Hayes said. "I cracked 16 shells."

He also fractured his neck midway through his time with the Huskies, requiring experimental fusion surgery on the damaged vertebrae, and was able to play again.

For now, Hayes can't tell you what comes next for him. He's stuck. His right leg got crushed in that dump truck accident and he can't walk on his own. He'd like to get back to Seattle and have a specialist put him back together.

Pat Hayes, shown speaking in the video, suggests that concerned people call his brother (808-338-9431) simply to elevate his spirits. The siblings refer to each other as Purple Hayes.

The younger sibling welcomes any kind of teammate, alumni or university support for the fallen Husky. A GoFundMe account would help get him healthy again. His big brother is wasting away.

The great Sixkiller protector needs protecting.