Posted at 10:01 p.m. PDT; Wednesday, September 8, 1999

Chris, Justin Jackson shine in famous father's shadow

by Sandy Ringer
Seattle Times staff reporter

KENT -- A game-saving tackle, a fumble return for a touchdown. Two big catches to fuel the final, winning drive.

Justin Jackson is juiced after this Kentridge victory. He bounds up the stadium steps for a postgame interview with a man carrying a notebook.

But Jackson's one-on-one isn't with a reporter, a local radio station or even a coach.

Justin Jackson's chat in the bleachers is with his biggest fan, his fault-finder, his father. A father with a name to live up to.

Michael Jackson was one of the best high-school football players to come out of this state. He went on to become a record-setting linebacker at the University of Washington and a fan favorite with the Seattle Seahawks.

This is Justin Jackson's double-edged task: Live up to the father in the eyes of the fans, and live up to the expectations in the eyes of the father. Michael Jackson, who insists he didn't want his sons to play the sport that once made him an icon in the community, demanded only one thing of his two sons when they chose to follow in his footsteps.

Father, like son: The second generation sons of ex-Seahawks
Sons of former Seahawks playing high-school ball in the Seattle area:
FATHER	SON
Sam Adkins, QB	Ryan Adkins, Inglemoor, WR/DB
Tony Benjamin, FB	Evan Benjamin, Redmond, RB/DB
Dave Brown, CB	Sterling Brown, Woodinville, SE/CB
Nesby Glasgow, DB	Brandon Glasgow, Lake Washington, WR/DB
Ken Geddes, LB	Ryan Geddes, Lake Washington, RB/DB
Michael Jackson, LB	Justin Jackson, Kentridge, TE/DE
Kerry Justin, CB	Marcellus Justin, Lake Washington, WR/DB
Sam McCullum, WR	Justin McCullum, Mercer Island, FS/SB
Alonzo Mitz, DE	*Alonzo Mitz, Kentwood, OL/DL
Manu Tuiasosopo, DT	Zach Tuiasosopo, Woodinvlle, RB/DL
Jim Whitesel, trainer	Mike Whitesel, Lake Washington, OL/DL
John Yarno, C	Brian Yarno, Redmond, TE
* Transfer from Florida; eligibility pending.

"I told them that since they decided to go this direction, you have to be the best," Jackson said. "There's no reason to go out there and just enjoy it and make friends on the football field; you're out there to hit somebody and be hit."

Justin adheres to this postgame ritual every week. In the stands, he listens as his father evaluates his performance in greater detail than any coach. The good. The bad. Everything.

The family tradition began with his older brother Chris, who was standout as a tight end and linebacker for Kentridge. He now is a redshirt freshman at UCLA, where he is expected to contribute this season.

Justin anticipates a breakout year as a senior tight end and defensive end on a team considered among the Class 4A playoff contenders. He is drawing a fair share of recruiting attention, with UCLA and Washington among the suitors. He finds his father's postgame critiques valuable, but admits all of the could-haves and should-haves are sometimes harder to take than a major hit on the field. Michael Jackson delivered big blows as a player and can sting with his blunt criticism, too.

"I tell them what they did well, what they should have done and what they could do better," Michael said. "I tell them how many tackles they made, how many assists, and how many they missed, and how many hustle plays they had, because that's one of the things that's very important to me."

The more tackles he's made, the more eager Justin is to find Michael in the stands.

"If you have a good game, you want to go up and look at what you did," he said. "If you had a bad game, you kind of talk to your friends first, make sure you see everybody you know."

Kentridge Coach Marty Osborn has grown to appreciate the input Michael Jackson gives his sons.

"He's forgotten more linebacker plays than I ever knew," Osborn said. "I think it's real beneficial for them to go back and get that kind of feedback.

"He's not your typical fan who watches the quarterback with the ball. He watches his kid on every play. He probably doesn't even know the score. . . . He's told me, 'Coach, you build 'em up, and I'll tell 'em the real deal,' and that's great."

Justin is part of the second wave of local, second-generation Seattle Seahawks and one of two area players -- Zach Tuiososopo of Woodinville is the other -- who are following a successful brother in the ranks.

Justin finds both pluses and minuses to the situation.

"To me, it's great, because the name's already out there," he said. "Everybody knows who I am. I've just got to prove myself now. . . . There's always some pressure. There are all these people sitting up in the stands thinking, 'Oh, that's Michael Jackson's son, let's see what he can do.'

"That's been around since junior high, but you get used to it and you just go out and play and show what you can do."

His mother, Terri Jackson, insists it isn't always that easy.

"It's hard when people know your father is Michael Jackson, and they expect you to be the football player he was," she said. "You're your father's son, you have to live up to that."

Chris wasn't an easy act to follow, either. He left as a highly decorated, three-year starter. Justin played sparingly his sophomore year, and both enjoyed the few occasions when they were on the field together. Some thought Justin would become more of an impact player last year.

"Chris left and everybody wanted me to step up another notch and take his place on the team," said Justin, who at 6 feet 4 and 255 pounds is already bigger and stronger than Chris. "The coaches were saying, 'This is your year to shine,' and that kind of thing.

"There was a lot of pressure at the beginning of the season, but as the year wore on, I kind of got used to it. They expected stuff and you just went out and gave it to them."

The two brothers are close, partly because their parents split up when the brothers were very young. Justin was just a year old and Chris barely 4 when Terri and Michael went through an unpleasant divorce in 1983, Michael's fifth year with the Seahawks. He remarried and was divorced again in 1986, two months after retiring after eight years from the Seahawks.

"I went through a couple of rough times," said Michael, who has been married to his current wife, Kathy, for 10 years and has changed professions more than once, going from acting to spiritual counseling to, most recently, a project director with the Pacific Institute.

Terri Jackson has remained a single, working mom and primary caretaker of the boys. Justin, whose only real memory of Michael's playing career was as a toddler eating grape bubble gum out of a big bucket in the training room, doesn't remember a time when his father wasn't involved in his life to some extent. But Mom has been a constant.

"My mom has been a big influence in my life," Justin said. "She was there 24-7 growing up. Dad was there, but she was the big influence. He's always been the sports guy, but if there's ever been any trouble in school or anything, it's been my mom. She's there for me."

After games, Dad gives his critiques and Mom gives kisses.

"As long as I come out of the game healthy, she's happy," Justin said.

For every complaint Michael might have, Terri is there with a compliment.

"Michael can be so negative, so when they come over to Mom, I'll say, 'That was great!' " she said. "They'll say, 'Mom, I screwed up,' and I'll say, 'I don't care, you did great' and give them hugs and kisses."

Justin and Michael both recall a ninth-grade game that changed their relationship.

"He was on the sidelines, and he was just livid because I didn't do something," Justin said. "He started yelling from the sidelines to get my attention, and I started yelling back. Since then, he started respecting me more. That's when he started noticing I have his mentality."

Michael, known for his intensity on the field, saw a lot of himself in his son.

"It showed me how serious Justin could be," he said. "It showed me he had the intensity and desire to be a better football player."

While Chris is more easy-going and gregarious, Justin keeps more to himself and is definitely not a people person, his father said.

"Chris is very friendly, easy to get to know," Michael said. "Justin is very introspective and, the funny thing about him, I don't think he likes people, although he probably loves them and they probably love him. I see both sides of myself in them.

"At my best, I would be like Chris in a social setting. At my worst, I would be like Justin. He just has no time for people, because he's very focused on what he wants to do, and it just seems like people get in his way. And Chris can take people to any place they want to go."

Those differences show on the field.

"Chris will laugh at you, and Justin will try to run you over," Michael said. "If there's going to be a confrontation out there, Justin's going to be involved in it, and Chris would be the peacekeeper -- 'Hey, it's not that serious, guys, let's get back to our huddle.' And Justin will stand there and he'll fight you all day long."

Chris agreed.

"One of the biggest differences between us (as high-school players) is I didn't like to hit people, and I didn't like to get hit," he said. "But that's one of his big things. He's more mean. He's a nastier, kind of old-school football player. He's definitely got the defensive mentality. He's a (Jack) Lambert kind of player, one of those guys who likes to talk to you, then come hit you, then talk about you some more."

But Justin also has his humorous side.

"He's one of the funniest people I know," said Chris, who could move from tight end to linebacker this fall at UCLA. "He's really witty when it comes to making fun of people. If you mess up, he's got a comment for you."

For Michael, 42, most of his comments about the sport he used to play are negative.

"I'm a guy who doesn't like football anymore, and my kids know this," he said. "I don't like watching pro football, but I love college football. The kids come over and want to watch pro football, and I won't watch it. I think the money's gotten too exorbitant, too ridiculous, and the talent's not there."

Michael laughs as he says this, but his disdain for the NFL is real. It stems from the pounding he took and five knee operations. He said he would rather have seen Chris go to college on an academic scholarship.

"Being an ex-athlete, I know what's going to happen to him," Michael said. "I know he's going to get beat up. . . . There's not a day in my life that I don't hurt, somewhere on my body."

Michael doesn't keep any sports memorabilia in his living room, but he does have what he calls his "ball room" downstairs, where his 12 college and professional game balls are displayed. It's also the movie room, complete with hundreds of videos and a theater-style popcorn maker. Within the video collection are several Seahawk tapes, which Michael never watches. He made one exception this summer, when Justin asked to see one.

"I just realized I'd never watched him play," Justin said.

His critique was much kinder than the ones he usually receives.

"He was a player back then," Justin said.

	For dad, the dream began on a Tri-Cities prep field

Copyright © 2000 The Seattle Times Company