LINK
Refrigerator Perry ain't got nothing on this young man mountain....
The Largest Football Recruit on the Planet
Junior Krahn Is 7 Feet Tall, 440 Pounds and Yearning for a Home
by Adam Kramer
Photography by Stuart Palley
May 17, 2016
For three years, the boy and his father lost themselves in their cozy Riverside, California, garage.
In the project’s infancy, John Robert Krahn III was a mere 6’3” and 325 pounds. His father had him by two inches; his uncle had him by more than a half-foot. But Krahn, known as “Junior” since birth, was only 13.
Together, father and son set out to craft the perfect automobile—a truck Junior would pilot when he was legally allowed. For Krahn Sr., putting his head inside or under a car was much like eating or breathing. It’s in Junior’s DNA, too. He can feel it.
All of the truck’s features were executed brilliantly: the root beer-brown exterior, the violent, distinguished roar of the engine and the spacious interior that would house the young boy’s enormous frame.
But when Junior’s 16th birthday arrived, there was an issue. He couldn’t fit behind the steering wheel of the masterpiece they'd created.
“Honestly, they don’t make anything his size,” John Krahn Sr. said. “He’s just big.”
Imagine the biggest football player you have ever seen. Picture his face. Visualize his magnificent, superhero size—a blend of NBA height and bouncer girth.
Put yourself next to him. Better yet, place yourself directly in front of him and imagine standing in the shadow of this human skyscraper. Take it one step further; imagine being tasked to somehow slow this collection of moving mass.
Do you have him yet?
“HONESTLY, THEY DON’T MAKE ANYTHING HIS SIZE. HE’S JUST BIG.”
- JOHN KRAHN SR.
Junior dwarfs this being, whoever that might be. At 7 feet tall and 440 pounds, John Robert Krahn III makes the largest people in the world’s largest profession appear minuscule.
And yet, despite his size and his blossoming status as a celebrity recruit, not one Division I team has looked his direction. Not one coach has called to gauge his interest. The countless inquiries made on Junior’s behalf have sunk to the bottom of the abyss.
In a sport so consumed by size, how could this be? How could someone with so much potential slip through the cracks?
The answer is complicated. It begins with our societal fixation with the rare and unfamiliar, although it does not end there. It goes deeper. Past the myriad of modifications simply to live like a child—to live a normal life. Past the broken bones that have since been repaired.
It is not until you arrive at the core of a young man and his family—heartbreak of the most indescribable kind—that a journey comes into focus.
Through it all, Junior has not stopped searching.
Kevin Corridan never allows himself to stand too close to Krahn. The head football coach at Martin Luther King High School found out early on that even the most ordinary exchanges felt anomalous when he did.
“For me to keep eye contact in our dialogues, generally I’d stand a couple of feet back so he’s not looking down at me. He’s angling down to me,” Corridan said. “I’ve never had a kid that big before.”
Outside of a few local pieces, the coverage of Krahn leading up to his senior year had been limited. That changed on September 24, 2015, the day MaxPreps introduced the world to the biggest football player on earth.
Included in the piece was a video to provide perspective. There was the 7-foot lineman, a good head taller than his teammates and friends. The 78 plastered on the back of Krahn’s dark blue jersey looked more like a misprint; like the team had accidently selected the wrong font size for one particular player.
“FOR ME TO KEEP EYE CONTACT IN OUR DIALOGUES, GENERALLY I’D STAND A COUPLE OF FEET BACK SO HE’S NOT LOOKING DOWN AT ME. HE'S ANGLING DOWN TO ME. I’VE NEVER HAD A KID THAT BIG BEFORE.”
- KEVIN CORRIDAN, HEAD COACH AT MARTIN LUTHER KING HIGH SCHOOL
Even with the visual proof, it was difficult to process. Over the next few days, the story—Krahn’s story—spread like wildfire.
"We had Division I coaches on site that said they'd consider offering him if he lost some weight," USA Football's Jimmy Thomas told MaxPreps writer Stephen Spiewak after Krahn participated in a USA Football camp in Los Angeles last summer. "They think he could be a force at a lighter weight."
Although he did not own a Division I scholarship offer when the video went live, Krahn’s highlight reel quickly became one of the most watched recruiting videos ever created. As of the middle of May, it had been viewed more than 1.65 million times.
It felt like an urban legend coming to life—like an untold secret being revealed to the world. The interest in Krahn that followed was extraordinary but also superficial. People cared because it was different—because he was different.
Corridan knew precisely what would happen next. An avalanche was coming.
Within days, Good Morning America sat down with Krahn. Other websites, including this one, relayed the video and the implausible measurables.
Outlets flocked to Riverside to hear more about this young man’s story. At the same time, as the community buzzed over the coverage, assistant coaches didn’t suddenly bombard the Krahns’ mailbox with letters. Not a single sales pitch was made. Corridan didn’t suddenly receive an influx of calls requesting more information.
There was a lot of noise but not much else. After a week or so, life returned to normal.
And it is normal. For all the attention Krahn's gotten, you can forget he's a regular kid. Just a really big one.
Corridan once had to call a camera crew that was en route to the school to tell them that Krahn would not be available as promised. Why? Corridan had told Krahn to let him know if the attention ever got to be too much, and Junior took him up on it for a quintessentially teenage reason.
“He just wanted to get some wings with his friends,” Corridan said. “He’s just a kid. Just a good kid.”
If the story that crew had been working on never got made, it probably didn't make much difference. None of it did.
“I really haven’t seen much interest from schools, even with the media help,” Krahn said. “I’m guessing they don’t want to take the risk.”
To this day, Krahn doesn’t own a recruiting profile on 247Sports, Rivals or ESPN. But Google his name, and you will drown in articles that would convince you otherwise.
For years, John and Cindy Krahn explored the state of California for a league willing to take their son. Each time they inquired on Junior’s behalf, all the way up until eighth grade, they were denied. No one wanted to risk it.
Finally, as a freshman in high school, Junior enjoyed his real introduction to the sport. After being forbidden for so long, he was allowed access to this world.
Krahn Sr. remembers his son’s first organized high school game like it was yesterday. He watched an opposing player attempt to block his son. Then, as the two were engaged, he watched another player dive like a submerging submarine at Junior’s knee. Almost instantly, he collapsed in agony.
The initial diagnosis was actually a relief. There were no major injuries and the pain would subside, doctors said.
Junior played the next four games, although his status did not change. Often his knee would buckle and he’d crash helplessly to the ground. Each time, he’d lift himself up and limp back to the huddle. He had waited too long for this moment.
“I REALLY HAVEN’T SEEN MUCH INTEREST FROM SCHOOLS, EVEN WITH THE MEDIA HELP. I’M GUESSING THEY DON’T WANT TO TAKE THE RISK.”
- JUNIOR KRAHN
A second round of tests showed that Krahn’s tibia was broken near his knee down to his growth plate. Doctors were confident that he would make a full recovery—and he has—although his season was over not long after it started.
Junior spent the remaining games on a scooter on the sideline, bringing his teammates water.
During his sophomore season, this once-foreign game started to make some sense. Footwork and speed remained an issue as the coaching staff worked him predominantly at left tackle. But slowly, he took steps forward.
As he did, a mentality grew. Off the field, Krahn has always been quiet. He has kept to himself, in large part because of his size and the expectations he has carried his entire life. Because he always gave the impression of being much older than he was, even now, he acted as such. There was a reputation to uphold.
But on the field, Junior was free of these shackles. All those years of dormancy were bottled up and unleashed the moment he threw on the helmet. This was his playground.
“I am a gentle giant around people,” Krahn said. “I figured out my size, and I know I can hurt people if I use it the wrong way. But when I’m playing football, I’m the biggest assh--e you know.”
In the midst of finding himself, Krahn was delivered another setback. Having dealt with significant pain in his foot for much of the year, Junior had it examined after the season concluded.
“It looked like a spider web,” his father recalled of the X-ray. The stress fracture, a product of these new movements in a body that was not equipped to handle such changes, required surgery. Another offseason was lost.
The ceiling inside the Martin Luther King High School weight room gives its inhabitants more than enough space to complete just about any lift or exercise. This statement applies to all but one player who has ever come through the program.
When Krahn would heave a barbell overhead in the modest quarters, pushing the 45-pound plates upward with his tree trunk arms, the room would hold its collective breath.
“He just kisses that ceiling,” Corridan said.
Squeezing in and out of school buses for away games was never easy. Corridan would watch as Krahn would expertly maneuver his frame through the doors—like experienced movers trying to wedge a couch up a snug flight of stairs.
When it came time to purchase equipment, Corridan had to order Krahn’s gear separate from the rest of the team. He required custom everything.
“I FIGURED OUT MY SIZE, AND I KNOW I CAN HURT PEOPLE IF I USE IT THE WRONG WAY.”
- JUNIOR KRAHN
On the field, the staff had to figure out where Junior belonged. He dabbled across the offensive and defensive lines, showing promise, at times, at both. On one play, Krahn would toss an opponent aside like he was a toddler. On the next, his feet and body would disengage and he would struggle to get out of his stance.
This game of tug-of-war persisted over the next two years. Even with some of the issues still being addressed, interest from Division III schools and NAIA programs trickled in.
Krahn visited Riverside Community College, Chaffey College and Mt. San Jacinto College—three JUCO programs within 45 minutes of home. He could practically hit a golf ball to Riverside CC from his doorstep.
The idea of prolonging his short football career excited him. But he craved more. In an effort to see what was out there, he cut up his own highlight tape with a friend—a collection of moments he was proud of.
With the help of his mother, they then sent out the tape to coaches and programs across the country. They did not limit this mass mailer, although Junior had his eye on the SEC, Big 12 and the ACC—“big boy football,” in his eyes.
In these emails, Krahn expressed his love for the game. He shared the three things in life he cared about most, in order: God, Family and Football.
“To me, football is family,” Krahn said.
Together, Cindy Krahn and her son sent out hundreds of inquiries. It became a hobby for the two of them. Each was equally passionate about the exercise and the potential payoff.
They both wanted the same thing. They both wanted what was best for Junior.
But despite the passion and hundreds of emails sent, not one coach asked to hear more.
During the night of November 30, Cindy Krahn died in her sleep.
Her unexpected passing shook the walls of their single-family home. A community struggled to cope with this tremendous loss.
But the day after she passed, as the news was still being processed, a grieving husband pushed for his children to return to normalcy. Junior returned to high school. His older sister, Miranda, a nursing student at West Coast University, tried to return to a routine that seemed anything but normal in its current state.
“They didn’t want to, but they had to do it for themselves,” Krahn Sr. said of his children. “They needed to start their lives again. It was rough those first weeks.”
Cindy’s Facebook page tells a tremendous tale. It’s a window into her life—one of family and football.
Nearly every post is about Junior. There are snippets of local newspaper clippings about Junior’s rise and the coverage he received. There are photos of Krahn in uniform, rarely offering a smile for the camera. There are pictures of the family together on Senior Night at the high school.
Just two weeks before she passed, Cindy posted two images of Junior side-by-side. It showed his physical transformation between his junior and senior seasons. Below the most recent image of her lean, powerful-looking son, she included the following:
“Junior, I am so very proud of you and the man you have become,” she wrote. “Regardless of your age or size. [In] My heart you will always be my little boy. I love you!”
They shared a love for football, although the relationship between mother and son was more than a search for a school that would take them. There was a deep affection between the two—the kind of relationship no one outside of the inner circle could ever articulate.
“My daughter is my daughter. Her son was her son,” Krahn Sr. said. “They always just connected better than we did.”
On December 10, Cindy Krahn was buried in Riverside National Cemetery. The day after he said goodbye to his mother, Junior returned to the gym with new purpose.
During the weeks that followed her death, Junior was smothered in support as he put his dream back into focus. His head coach regularly inquired as to how he was coping. His father, knowing his son’s quiet demeanor, wanted to know how he was holding up. Each time someone offered up support, they were politely denied.
It wasn’t until recently that Krahn Sr. was able to return to his own routine. He did so with the help of Junior.
Having spent three months sleeping on the couch—unable to sleep in his own bed and barely able to look at his bedroom door—Krahn Sr. and Junior cleaned out Cindy’s closet together. Memories were rehashed. Bandages were torn off. Old wounds were opened and explored.
Days later, the couch on the Krahn’s first floor was empty for the first time in months.
“It was time for me to be as tough as they are,” he said of Junior and Miranda.
Gazing at the ceiling in his Dallas hotel room, Junior contemplated what might have been. It was February 3, 2016—national signing day. As he contemplated lifting himself out of bed, fax machines across the nation hummed.
Inside Room 119 of the Marriott South, there was only silence. Krahn was lost in his thoughts—thinking about the thousands of players confirming their future football homes that morning.
“It was the kind of day you just want to be by yourself,” he said. “But I didn’t have time for that.”
The reality of not having a Division I home suddenly felt real. And while nothing could fill that void, Junior had practice to attend. His second serving of internet fame was days away.
The International Bowl—a game between high school athletes from the United States and Canada—had handpicked Krahn to be a part of the week-long event.
Many of his teammates already knew of the supersized lineman before he arrived. Fans throughout the week asked for photos. Coaches marveled at their temporary football toy.
“Somebody told me he’s the largest football player to ever play,” said Daryl Patton, the coach of Team USA's Under-18 Select team. “There’s no cheating on size. He’s as big as everyone said he was.”
Patton was the head coach of Fayetteville High School in Arkansas until resigning recently. He was regarded as one of the elite coaches in the state. He also has the reputation of being a “trickster” when it comes to play-calling.
True to his image, Patton approached his new lineman early in the week with a proposition.
“SOMEBODY TOLD ME HE’S THE LARGEST FOOTBALL PLAYER TO EVER PLAY. THERE’S NO CHEATING ON SIZE. HE’S AS BIG AS EVERYONE SAID HE WAS.”
- DARYL PATTON, INTERNATIONAL BOWL TEAM USA UNDER-18 SELECT COACH
“How would you like to play running back?” he asked Krahn over dinner. Junior was hip to the idea if the moment was right. Leading 28-3 late in the game, Team USA intercepted a pass.
Having executed the play twice in practice, Patton sent his 440-pound running back onto the field. Wearing No. 99, Junior took his first carry and lumbered forward for two uneventful yards—like a steamroller searching for the appropriate momentum.
The next play, Junior’s number was called again. He sidestepped early contact—looking oddly at ease in his new role—and bullied his way toward the end zone. With four Canadian players closing in—none of whom seemed all too eager about tackling someone more than twice their size—Junior crossed the goal line.
More than 1,300 miles away, a city rejoiced. Watching the broadcast live, Krahn’s friends and teammates celebrated. His father, seated at the 15-yard-line, left his seat.
“When he scored that touchdown,” Krahn Sr. said, “even the Canadians cheered.”
For the second time in five months, Krahn became a national story. His touchdown was shared throughout the sporting world.
Hoping that this batch of viral interest would lead to something more—something that could finally carry him to his next football destination—Krahn returned to Riverside. He waited. And waited.
And waited…
“I would go to bat for him. He’s an awesome kid. I think, and I really hope, that somebody will give him a chance in time, because he’s not a bad football player,” Patton said. “I definitely think he can play at the next level. He’s got a ways to go, but you can’t teach size like that.”
Junior Krahn playfully cradling teammate Saadiq Jenkins.
The first question you ask the biggest football player on the planet is the obvious one.
Just how big are you?
The truth is, these days Junior isn’t exactly sure. His digital scale at home doesn’t go that high. The only scale that Krahn is aware of that can give him an actual reading is tucked away in the wrestling room at his high school, although many of the days that he slips upstairs to use it, the door is locked.
So instead, Krahn operates mostly off of feel. Right now, he feels like he’s getting closer to where he wants to be. Not just with his body, but with every aspect of his life.
Academically, after struggling for much of high school, Krahn has turned a corner. While the size has always served as the biggest obstacle with coaches, his grades did not help for much of his high school life.
“The academic piece is something he’s still working on,” Corridan said, “which will make him more attractive in the future.”
This past semester, Junior got all A’s and B’s, earning himself a new stereo system from his father. Krahn Sr. says Junior would be aredshirt qualifier at the Division I level, meaning he would be able to practice with a Division I team but not play in games unless certain criteria are met.
“I DEFINITELY THINK HE CAN PLAY AT THE NEXT LEVEL. HE’S GOT A WAYS TO GO, BUT YOU CAN’T TEACH SIZE LIKE THAT.”
- DARYL PATTON, INTERNATIONAL BOWL TEAM USA UNDER-18 SELECT COACH
As for the original question—just how big are you?—the answer, quite simply, is smaller. Fitter. Leaner. Stronger. Faster.
In the past three months, Junior has cut more than a full second off his 40 time. He has done so thanks to a large dose of speed training—physical but necessary torture that he puts himself through three times a week.
The goal is to see 375 pounds on the scale—any scale—before fall camp.
“He’s gotten better across the board,” Corridan said. “You’re dealing with a kid with no football background. With his discipline and his will, whatever he wants, he’s going to be able to achieve. He has to get himself in a situation that he feels good about.”
He is still waiting. Hoping. Wanting. Wishing.
He is searching for that one brave soul or ambitious team to give him an opportunity. He understands there will likely be no financial commitment, and the money has never been a part of the motivation. Earning a scholarship has never crossed his mind.
“I just want to play,” Krahn said. “If I’m paying to play or I’m not, it’s football. I am hoping that a coach puts his neck out on the line for me. I’ll put everything I have into it just to make him happy.”
Unless that moment emerges out of thin air, Junior plans to play at Riverside Community College next fall—a decision he reached last week, his dad says.
He will put his dreams of driving his truck across the country with Hank Williams Jr. blasting through his new speakers on hold. His Midwest mentality, with two American flags hanging from the back of his truck, will stay close to home a little while longer.
Those who evaluate football at the highest level have deemed that Krahn, at least up until this moment, is not worthy of a roster spot. This is not a matter of simply falling through the cracks. Riverside is a big city just 60 miles east of Los Angeles. College recruiters know it well.
This is a collective decision. His size is not enticing enough.
But Junior can’t help but think they’re wrong in their assessments, and perhaps they are. The finished product, if it ever goes through a full translation, could be extraordinary.
It is this evaluation, however, that does an injustice to the overall product regardless of whether it’s finished.
Size is merely a collection of numbers—a way for us to measure an outer layer of a man. It falls short of telling us what’s on the inside, below the layers of flesh and bone. This is the part where the scale and stopwatch lose all value.
If this is indeed where the story ends for the boy named Junior, this great football mystery, so be it.
One day, tucked away in a garage somewhere far away from the place he once called home, Junior might be building a truck for his own son as his 16th birthday nears. He might tell his boy about this dream he had.
He'd show him the ocean of articles that were written, all about him. He'd show him that touchdown he scored. Together, they could watch his interviews. They'd laugh at the awkwardness of his responses and the way he held back that enormous smile.
And Junior would tell his son all about Cindy, the wonderful grandmother he never had the privilege to meet. He'd share with him all the ways she helped Junior chase down his dream—how they shared that dream and so much more.
“She played a big role in my life,” Krahn says. “I am doing this for more than myself now. I am doing this because she wanted to see me do this.”
Refrigerator Perry ain't got nothing on this young man mountain....
The Largest Football Recruit on the Planet
Junior Krahn Is 7 Feet Tall, 440 Pounds and Yearning for a Home
by Adam Kramer
Photography by Stuart Palley
May 17, 2016
For three years, the boy and his father lost themselves in their cozy Riverside, California, garage.
In the project’s infancy, John Robert Krahn III was a mere 6’3” and 325 pounds. His father had him by two inches; his uncle had him by more than a half-foot. But Krahn, known as “Junior” since birth, was only 13.
Together, father and son set out to craft the perfect automobile—a truck Junior would pilot when he was legally allowed. For Krahn Sr., putting his head inside or under a car was much like eating or breathing. It’s in Junior’s DNA, too. He can feel it.
All of the truck’s features were executed brilliantly: the root beer-brown exterior, the violent, distinguished roar of the engine and the spacious interior that would house the young boy’s enormous frame.
But when Junior’s 16th birthday arrived, there was an issue. He couldn’t fit behind the steering wheel of the masterpiece they'd created.
“Honestly, they don’t make anything his size,” John Krahn Sr. said. “He’s just big.”
Imagine the biggest football player you have ever seen. Picture his face. Visualize his magnificent, superhero size—a blend of NBA height and bouncer girth.
Put yourself next to him. Better yet, place yourself directly in front of him and imagine standing in the shadow of this human skyscraper. Take it one step further; imagine being tasked to somehow slow this collection of moving mass.
Do you have him yet?
“HONESTLY, THEY DON’T MAKE ANYTHING HIS SIZE. HE’S JUST BIG.”
- JOHN KRAHN SR.
Junior dwarfs this being, whoever that might be. At 7 feet tall and 440 pounds, John Robert Krahn III makes the largest people in the world’s largest profession appear minuscule.
And yet, despite his size and his blossoming status as a celebrity recruit, not one Division I team has looked his direction. Not one coach has called to gauge his interest. The countless inquiries made on Junior’s behalf have sunk to the bottom of the abyss.
In a sport so consumed by size, how could this be? How could someone with so much potential slip through the cracks?
The answer is complicated. It begins with our societal fixation with the rare and unfamiliar, although it does not end there. It goes deeper. Past the myriad of modifications simply to live like a child—to live a normal life. Past the broken bones that have since been repaired.
It is not until you arrive at the core of a young man and his family—heartbreak of the most indescribable kind—that a journey comes into focus.
Through it all, Junior has not stopped searching.
Kevin Corridan never allows himself to stand too close to Krahn. The head football coach at Martin Luther King High School found out early on that even the most ordinary exchanges felt anomalous when he did.
“For me to keep eye contact in our dialogues, generally I’d stand a couple of feet back so he’s not looking down at me. He’s angling down to me,” Corridan said. “I’ve never had a kid that big before.”
Outside of a few local pieces, the coverage of Krahn leading up to his senior year had been limited. That changed on September 24, 2015, the day MaxPreps introduced the world to the biggest football player on earth.
Included in the piece was a video to provide perspective. There was the 7-foot lineman, a good head taller than his teammates and friends. The 78 plastered on the back of Krahn’s dark blue jersey looked more like a misprint; like the team had accidently selected the wrong font size for one particular player.
“FOR ME TO KEEP EYE CONTACT IN OUR DIALOGUES, GENERALLY I’D STAND A COUPLE OF FEET BACK SO HE’S NOT LOOKING DOWN AT ME. HE'S ANGLING DOWN TO ME. I’VE NEVER HAD A KID THAT BIG BEFORE.”
- KEVIN CORRIDAN, HEAD COACH AT MARTIN LUTHER KING HIGH SCHOOL
Even with the visual proof, it was difficult to process. Over the next few days, the story—Krahn’s story—spread like wildfire.
"We had Division I coaches on site that said they'd consider offering him if he lost some weight," USA Football's Jimmy Thomas told MaxPreps writer Stephen Spiewak after Krahn participated in a USA Football camp in Los Angeles last summer. "They think he could be a force at a lighter weight."
Although he did not own a Division I scholarship offer when the video went live, Krahn’s highlight reel quickly became one of the most watched recruiting videos ever created. As of the middle of May, it had been viewed more than 1.65 million times.
It felt like an urban legend coming to life—like an untold secret being revealed to the world. The interest in Krahn that followed was extraordinary but also superficial. People cared because it was different—because he was different.
Corridan knew precisely what would happen next. An avalanche was coming.
Within days, Good Morning America sat down with Krahn. Other websites, including this one, relayed the video and the implausible measurables.
Outlets flocked to Riverside to hear more about this young man’s story. At the same time, as the community buzzed over the coverage, assistant coaches didn’t suddenly bombard the Krahns’ mailbox with letters. Not a single sales pitch was made. Corridan didn’t suddenly receive an influx of calls requesting more information.
There was a lot of noise but not much else. After a week or so, life returned to normal.
And it is normal. For all the attention Krahn's gotten, you can forget he's a regular kid. Just a really big one.
Corridan once had to call a camera crew that was en route to the school to tell them that Krahn would not be available as promised. Why? Corridan had told Krahn to let him know if the attention ever got to be too much, and Junior took him up on it for a quintessentially teenage reason.
“He just wanted to get some wings with his friends,” Corridan said. “He’s just a kid. Just a good kid.”
If the story that crew had been working on never got made, it probably didn't make much difference. None of it did.
“I really haven’t seen much interest from schools, even with the media help,” Krahn said. “I’m guessing they don’t want to take the risk.”
To this day, Krahn doesn’t own a recruiting profile on 247Sports, Rivals or ESPN. But Google his name, and you will drown in articles that would convince you otherwise.
For years, John and Cindy Krahn explored the state of California for a league willing to take their son. Each time they inquired on Junior’s behalf, all the way up until eighth grade, they were denied. No one wanted to risk it.
Finally, as a freshman in high school, Junior enjoyed his real introduction to the sport. After being forbidden for so long, he was allowed access to this world.
Krahn Sr. remembers his son’s first organized high school game like it was yesterday. He watched an opposing player attempt to block his son. Then, as the two were engaged, he watched another player dive like a submerging submarine at Junior’s knee. Almost instantly, he collapsed in agony.
The initial diagnosis was actually a relief. There were no major injuries and the pain would subside, doctors said.
Junior played the next four games, although his status did not change. Often his knee would buckle and he’d crash helplessly to the ground. Each time, he’d lift himself up and limp back to the huddle. He had waited too long for this moment.
“I REALLY HAVEN’T SEEN MUCH INTEREST FROM SCHOOLS, EVEN WITH THE MEDIA HELP. I’M GUESSING THEY DON’T WANT TO TAKE THE RISK.”
- JUNIOR KRAHN
A second round of tests showed that Krahn’s tibia was broken near his knee down to his growth plate. Doctors were confident that he would make a full recovery—and he has—although his season was over not long after it started.
Junior spent the remaining games on a scooter on the sideline, bringing his teammates water.
During his sophomore season, this once-foreign game started to make some sense. Footwork and speed remained an issue as the coaching staff worked him predominantly at left tackle. But slowly, he took steps forward.
As he did, a mentality grew. Off the field, Krahn has always been quiet. He has kept to himself, in large part because of his size and the expectations he has carried his entire life. Because he always gave the impression of being much older than he was, even now, he acted as such. There was a reputation to uphold.
But on the field, Junior was free of these shackles. All those years of dormancy were bottled up and unleashed the moment he threw on the helmet. This was his playground.
“I am a gentle giant around people,” Krahn said. “I figured out my size, and I know I can hurt people if I use it the wrong way. But when I’m playing football, I’m the biggest assh--e you know.”
In the midst of finding himself, Krahn was delivered another setback. Having dealt with significant pain in his foot for much of the year, Junior had it examined after the season concluded.
“It looked like a spider web,” his father recalled of the X-ray. The stress fracture, a product of these new movements in a body that was not equipped to handle such changes, required surgery. Another offseason was lost.
The ceiling inside the Martin Luther King High School weight room gives its inhabitants more than enough space to complete just about any lift or exercise. This statement applies to all but one player who has ever come through the program.
When Krahn would heave a barbell overhead in the modest quarters, pushing the 45-pound plates upward with his tree trunk arms, the room would hold its collective breath.
“He just kisses that ceiling,” Corridan said.
Squeezing in and out of school buses for away games was never easy. Corridan would watch as Krahn would expertly maneuver his frame through the doors—like experienced movers trying to wedge a couch up a snug flight of stairs.
When it came time to purchase equipment, Corridan had to order Krahn’s gear separate from the rest of the team. He required custom everything.
“I FIGURED OUT MY SIZE, AND I KNOW I CAN HURT PEOPLE IF I USE IT THE WRONG WAY.”
- JUNIOR KRAHN
On the field, the staff had to figure out where Junior belonged. He dabbled across the offensive and defensive lines, showing promise, at times, at both. On one play, Krahn would toss an opponent aside like he was a toddler. On the next, his feet and body would disengage and he would struggle to get out of his stance.
This game of tug-of-war persisted over the next two years. Even with some of the issues still being addressed, interest from Division III schools and NAIA programs trickled in.
Krahn visited Riverside Community College, Chaffey College and Mt. San Jacinto College—three JUCO programs within 45 minutes of home. He could practically hit a golf ball to Riverside CC from his doorstep.
The idea of prolonging his short football career excited him. But he craved more. In an effort to see what was out there, he cut up his own highlight tape with a friend—a collection of moments he was proud of.
With the help of his mother, they then sent out the tape to coaches and programs across the country. They did not limit this mass mailer, although Junior had his eye on the SEC, Big 12 and the ACC—“big boy football,” in his eyes.
In these emails, Krahn expressed his love for the game. He shared the three things in life he cared about most, in order: God, Family and Football.
“To me, football is family,” Krahn said.
Together, Cindy Krahn and her son sent out hundreds of inquiries. It became a hobby for the two of them. Each was equally passionate about the exercise and the potential payoff.
They both wanted the same thing. They both wanted what was best for Junior.
But despite the passion and hundreds of emails sent, not one coach asked to hear more.
During the night of November 30, Cindy Krahn died in her sleep.
Her unexpected passing shook the walls of their single-family home. A community struggled to cope with this tremendous loss.
But the day after she passed, as the news was still being processed, a grieving husband pushed for his children to return to normalcy. Junior returned to high school. His older sister, Miranda, a nursing student at West Coast University, tried to return to a routine that seemed anything but normal in its current state.
“They didn’t want to, but they had to do it for themselves,” Krahn Sr. said of his children. “They needed to start their lives again. It was rough those first weeks.”
Cindy’s Facebook page tells a tremendous tale. It’s a window into her life—one of family and football.
Nearly every post is about Junior. There are snippets of local newspaper clippings about Junior’s rise and the coverage he received. There are photos of Krahn in uniform, rarely offering a smile for the camera. There are pictures of the family together on Senior Night at the high school.
Just two weeks before she passed, Cindy posted two images of Junior side-by-side. It showed his physical transformation between his junior and senior seasons. Below the most recent image of her lean, powerful-looking son, she included the following:
“Junior, I am so very proud of you and the man you have become,” she wrote. “Regardless of your age or size. [In] My heart you will always be my little boy. I love you!”
They shared a love for football, although the relationship between mother and son was more than a search for a school that would take them. There was a deep affection between the two—the kind of relationship no one outside of the inner circle could ever articulate.
“My daughter is my daughter. Her son was her son,” Krahn Sr. said. “They always just connected better than we did.”
On December 10, Cindy Krahn was buried in Riverside National Cemetery. The day after he said goodbye to his mother, Junior returned to the gym with new purpose.
During the weeks that followed her death, Junior was smothered in support as he put his dream back into focus. His head coach regularly inquired as to how he was coping. His father, knowing his son’s quiet demeanor, wanted to know how he was holding up. Each time someone offered up support, they were politely denied.
It wasn’t until recently that Krahn Sr. was able to return to his own routine. He did so with the help of Junior.
Having spent three months sleeping on the couch—unable to sleep in his own bed and barely able to look at his bedroom door—Krahn Sr. and Junior cleaned out Cindy’s closet together. Memories were rehashed. Bandages were torn off. Old wounds were opened and explored.
Days later, the couch on the Krahn’s first floor was empty for the first time in months.
“It was time for me to be as tough as they are,” he said of Junior and Miranda.
Gazing at the ceiling in his Dallas hotel room, Junior contemplated what might have been. It was February 3, 2016—national signing day. As he contemplated lifting himself out of bed, fax machines across the nation hummed.
Inside Room 119 of the Marriott South, there was only silence. Krahn was lost in his thoughts—thinking about the thousands of players confirming their future football homes that morning.
“It was the kind of day you just want to be by yourself,” he said. “But I didn’t have time for that.”
The reality of not having a Division I home suddenly felt real. And while nothing could fill that void, Junior had practice to attend. His second serving of internet fame was days away.
The International Bowl—a game between high school athletes from the United States and Canada—had handpicked Krahn to be a part of the week-long event.
Many of his teammates already knew of the supersized lineman before he arrived. Fans throughout the week asked for photos. Coaches marveled at their temporary football toy.
“Somebody told me he’s the largest football player to ever play,” said Daryl Patton, the coach of Team USA's Under-18 Select team. “There’s no cheating on size. He’s as big as everyone said he was.”
Patton was the head coach of Fayetteville High School in Arkansas until resigning recently. He was regarded as one of the elite coaches in the state. He also has the reputation of being a “trickster” when it comes to play-calling.
True to his image, Patton approached his new lineman early in the week with a proposition.
“SOMEBODY TOLD ME HE’S THE LARGEST FOOTBALL PLAYER TO EVER PLAY. THERE’S NO CHEATING ON SIZE. HE’S AS BIG AS EVERYONE SAID HE WAS.”
- DARYL PATTON, INTERNATIONAL BOWL TEAM USA UNDER-18 SELECT COACH
“How would you like to play running back?” he asked Krahn over dinner. Junior was hip to the idea if the moment was right. Leading 28-3 late in the game, Team USA intercepted a pass.
Having executed the play twice in practice, Patton sent his 440-pound running back onto the field. Wearing No. 99, Junior took his first carry and lumbered forward for two uneventful yards—like a steamroller searching for the appropriate momentum.
The next play, Junior’s number was called again. He sidestepped early contact—looking oddly at ease in his new role—and bullied his way toward the end zone. With four Canadian players closing in—none of whom seemed all too eager about tackling someone more than twice their size—Junior crossed the goal line.
More than 1,300 miles away, a city rejoiced. Watching the broadcast live, Krahn’s friends and teammates celebrated. His father, seated at the 15-yard-line, left his seat.
“When he scored that touchdown,” Krahn Sr. said, “even the Canadians cheered.”
For the second time in five months, Krahn became a national story. His touchdown was shared throughout the sporting world.
Hoping that this batch of viral interest would lead to something more—something that could finally carry him to his next football destination—Krahn returned to Riverside. He waited. And waited.
And waited…
“I would go to bat for him. He’s an awesome kid. I think, and I really hope, that somebody will give him a chance in time, because he’s not a bad football player,” Patton said. “I definitely think he can play at the next level. He’s got a ways to go, but you can’t teach size like that.”
Junior Krahn playfully cradling teammate Saadiq Jenkins.
The first question you ask the biggest football player on the planet is the obvious one.
Just how big are you?
The truth is, these days Junior isn’t exactly sure. His digital scale at home doesn’t go that high. The only scale that Krahn is aware of that can give him an actual reading is tucked away in the wrestling room at his high school, although many of the days that he slips upstairs to use it, the door is locked.
So instead, Krahn operates mostly off of feel. Right now, he feels like he’s getting closer to where he wants to be. Not just with his body, but with every aspect of his life.
Academically, after struggling for much of high school, Krahn has turned a corner. While the size has always served as the biggest obstacle with coaches, his grades did not help for much of his high school life.
“The academic piece is something he’s still working on,” Corridan said, “which will make him more attractive in the future.”
This past semester, Junior got all A’s and B’s, earning himself a new stereo system from his father. Krahn Sr. says Junior would be aredshirt qualifier at the Division I level, meaning he would be able to practice with a Division I team but not play in games unless certain criteria are met.
“I DEFINITELY THINK HE CAN PLAY AT THE NEXT LEVEL. HE’S GOT A WAYS TO GO, BUT YOU CAN’T TEACH SIZE LIKE THAT.”
- DARYL PATTON, INTERNATIONAL BOWL TEAM USA UNDER-18 SELECT COACH
As for the original question—just how big are you?—the answer, quite simply, is smaller. Fitter. Leaner. Stronger. Faster.
In the past three months, Junior has cut more than a full second off his 40 time. He has done so thanks to a large dose of speed training—physical but necessary torture that he puts himself through three times a week.
The goal is to see 375 pounds on the scale—any scale—before fall camp.
“He’s gotten better across the board,” Corridan said. “You’re dealing with a kid with no football background. With his discipline and his will, whatever he wants, he’s going to be able to achieve. He has to get himself in a situation that he feels good about.”
He is still waiting. Hoping. Wanting. Wishing.
He is searching for that one brave soul or ambitious team to give him an opportunity. He understands there will likely be no financial commitment, and the money has never been a part of the motivation. Earning a scholarship has never crossed his mind.
“I just want to play,” Krahn said. “If I’m paying to play or I’m not, it’s football. I am hoping that a coach puts his neck out on the line for me. I’ll put everything I have into it just to make him happy.”
Unless that moment emerges out of thin air, Junior plans to play at Riverside Community College next fall—a decision he reached last week, his dad says.
He will put his dreams of driving his truck across the country with Hank Williams Jr. blasting through his new speakers on hold. His Midwest mentality, with two American flags hanging from the back of his truck, will stay close to home a little while longer.
Those who evaluate football at the highest level have deemed that Krahn, at least up until this moment, is not worthy of a roster spot. This is not a matter of simply falling through the cracks. Riverside is a big city just 60 miles east of Los Angeles. College recruiters know it well.
This is a collective decision. His size is not enticing enough.
But Junior can’t help but think they’re wrong in their assessments, and perhaps they are. The finished product, if it ever goes through a full translation, could be extraordinary.
It is this evaluation, however, that does an injustice to the overall product regardless of whether it’s finished.
Size is merely a collection of numbers—a way for us to measure an outer layer of a man. It falls short of telling us what’s on the inside, below the layers of flesh and bone. This is the part where the scale and stopwatch lose all value.
If this is indeed where the story ends for the boy named Junior, this great football mystery, so be it.
One day, tucked away in a garage somewhere far away from the place he once called home, Junior might be building a truck for his own son as his 16th birthday nears. He might tell his boy about this dream he had.
He'd show him the ocean of articles that were written, all about him. He'd show him that touchdown he scored. Together, they could watch his interviews. They'd laugh at the awkwardness of his responses and the way he held back that enormous smile.
And Junior would tell his son all about Cindy, the wonderful grandmother he never had the privilege to meet. He'd share with him all the ways she helped Junior chase down his dream—how they shared that dream and so much more.
“She played a big role in my life,” Krahn says. “I am doing this for more than myself now. I am doing this because she wanted to see me do this.”
