Doug Robinson: BYU football: Gentle giant Braden Hansen grew up to become one big, talented athlete

On defense, where he played occasionally, he once picked up a quarterback like a big bag of groceries and threw him to the ground. I thought they were going to have to use shovels to dig that kid out of the ground. At BYU, they gave him a choice: Offense or defense. He chose offensive line, where his Uncle Danny once started for BYU. After being named to the freshman All-American team, he was slowed the next two seasons by injuries, although they never caused him to miss a start.

Assistant coach Lance Reynolds, a former NFL O-lineman himself, thought Braden was an NFL-caliber lineman the day he arrived. "He was as good as there was around," says Reynolds. "Then the injuries set him back. Certainly from a talent standpoint, he has (NFL) potential. He's just got to stay healthy."

If you think the NFL is rough and tough, you should have seen the Hansen household, which provided great entertainment to me for almost 20 years. Lowell and Kathy Hansen produced three boys in four years — Brock, Chase and Braden — before two daughters arrived, Kenzie and Gentrie. The boys were all big and physical, especially with each other (at one time they were all on the BYU football team). Between the wrestling matches and the Nerf basketball games in the basement, the Hansen's walls had more holes than Dennis Rodman's head.

Lowell and Kathy tried to fix them — the holes, I mean, not the boys — but couldn't keep pace with the damage. Once, shortly after all the holes had been patched and painted, Kathy found a large exercise mat standing up against the wall. She pulled the mat down to put it away and discovered that it was hiding a large hole.

"They'd be out playing basketball on the driveway and come in calling each other names and slamming doors, and five minutes later they're out there playing again," says Lowell. "They were best friends, but they were so competitive."

And where were the parents during the brotherly mayhem? Joining them, of course. The boys once chased their 6-foot mother around the house to include her in their wrestling shenanigans; she wound up with a chipped tooth. "We need some girls!" she told her husband. Lowell, a large, square-shouldered man, would engage the boys in wrestling matches, if not actually instigate them. He was always teasing and tackling them and challenging them to pickup games. He paid the price, collecting various injuries, including a broken arm and stitches. The boys could never take him in wrestling, but when they got older they jumped him in the basement one day and got their revenge. They duct-taped his mouth, tied his hands and legs to his ankles behind his back and painted makeup on his face, then left him in the basement. A half-hour later, Kathy asked them, "Where's your dad?"

"Um, he's a little bit tied up right now." (Giggle, giggle.)

Kathy searched the house and found him.

"I'm still going to get them back one of these days," says Lowell. "That was one of only two times I've been mad at them."

The other time was when Braden greeted his father's return home from work by hitting him with a snowball in his manly regions, after which Braden ran and hid in the basement.

I observed some of this over the years from across the street. I was just glad I didn't have to pay Lowell's grocery and medical bills.

Despite what you probably think at this point, Braden Hansen is a gentle giant, a popular, smiling, affectionate kid who wouldn't hurt anyone, not off the field anyway. He's the type of kid who ran to hug his mother when she showed up at the high school, as she often did as booster club president.

"Nicest guy in the world off the field," says Stephens, "but on the field, he was a %#$!!!."