All hope returns on one play Gary Shelton, The St.Petersburg Times, published 22 December 1997 The odds were against Karl Williams. Even as the ball floated toward him, Williams knew it. The punt wasn't far enough, for one thing. It was short and flat, and Williams had to run up to catch it. As punts go, it was an invitation to a bruised sternum. Williams glanced downfield, then up, then downfield again. Tony Carter of the Bears was steaming toward him, malice in his eyes, and for a second Williams wondered whether he should signal a fair catch. This is what life is like for a punt returner. The ball is on its way and a million thoughts race through the mind as it completes its journey. Is the punt returnable? Are the tacklers running clean? Where are the blocks? This time Williams had all the answers. He caught the ball, stepped around Carter, darted past Mike Dulaney, reversed field, shook off Greg Huntington, cut hard upfield to elude Michael Lowery, swiveled past Todd Sauerbrun, spun 360 degrees to escape Barry Minter and outran everyone to the end zone. By the time he arrived, the Bucs were back. Talk about your magnificent returns. This one not only was a centerpiece in the team's highlight film, it rubbed salve over a Bucs team that was hurting. With one 61-yard return, a dazzling run during which he did everything but turn invisible, Williams gave his team the impetus to win Sunday and the credibility to believe it could win next Sunday. As he raced downfield, all the bad moments of recent weeks were trampled beneath his cleats. The terrible offense. The dropped passes. The turnovers. The apathy that accompanies a team backing toward the playoffs. What were the odds of one play doing all that? What were the odds of Williams' incredible return? Not bad, it turns out. Not when you consider the odds against Williams being here at all. He was a high school player no one wanted, a small-college receiver the Bucs signed to be a training camp body, a player without great size (5 feet 10, 174 pounds) or blazing speed. Despite it all, on this day, he was the best player on the field. Consider the Bucs' first touchdown drive. On third and 5, Williams caught a 17-yard pass over the middle. On third and 8, he caught another 17-yarder. That set up the first touchdown. Later in the first quarter, Williams made it 14-0 with his punt return. It was the second punt return for a touchdown in Williams' career, only the third in Bucs history. This one, like last year's 88-yarder, was against the Bears. In the second quarter, Williams added a 7-yard touchdown pass 11 seconds before halftime. But what everyone will remember about his day is the punt return. "It really wasn't a good kick for the return we had," Williams said. "We had a middle return on, but I had to go toward the sideline to get past the first guy. Then I reversed my field and just followed my blocking." He sat at his locker, and he seemed a little embarrassed about all the attention. Reporters kept suggesting the run was all Williams, and he kept denying it in that soft voice of his. "I really didn't think I had that good a day," he said. "I had two fumbles in the second half. The guys kept telling me it was all right, but it isn't all right with me. If this had been a close game, those fumbles could have been critical." There are receivers in the NFL who feel best when the lights are on them. Not Williams. He doesn't like the spotlight. If you want to know the truth, he doesn't like to be called the Truth, the nickname he inherited from the old boxer. Ah, but running punts back, through blurring colors in stadiums where he cannot hear the noise. That, he likes. Who thought he would be here? In high school, in the small town of Rowlett, Texas, Williams was a blocking wide receiver on a running high school football team. When high school was over, most people figured Williams' career was, too. He didn't get a scholarship offer. So he went to work on the shipping docks of a local distribution center, loading crates onto a truck for $4.75 an hour. A lot of people likely figured he'd be there still. "They probably think I would be there working, hanging out, living at home," he said. "But my mother didn't raise me that way." Williams saved his money from the shipping docks and paid his way to Tyler Junior College. Not to play, but to go to school. He joined the team only after taking a weightlifting class from one of the coaches and talking to him about playing, then ended up making junior college All-American. That got him to Texas A&M-Kingsville, but he didn't catch a lot of passes there, and he returned even fewer punts. The Bucs signed him, well, because they wanted to sign teammate Jorge Diaz, and Diaz and Williams had the same agent, and the Bucs needed another wide receiver for camp. The best they hoped for at the time was a practice-squad player. They got more. Williams is one of those rare players who runs faster than he times, who is quick and tough and who has a knack for making a big play when it is needed. Sunday the Bucs needed it something fierce. So much had slipped away from them lately. This brought a lot of it back. "This is like a fairy tale," Williams said. "I think about the odds against me being here every day. It tells you there is a lesson in not giving up on yourself." The Bucs can use a little bit of that. For weeks they hungered for a wide receiver to make a play, to be a difference maker. Williams finally did. In a special game, he was a special player. In the end, this is how this day will be remembered. For Williams' return. And for his team's.