No shortage of heart: UNC football lineman welcomes those who doubt his size, background

Mack Brown was warned about Willie Lampkin .

“Before he walks in,” UNC football general manager Patrick Suddes told the head coach during Lampkin’s recruitment, “you’re gonna think he’s way too short.”

Lampkin, a 5-foot-11 offensive lineman from Florida who previously played at Coastal Carolina, entered the transfer portal in December 2022 with the hopes of finally making it to the Power 5 level, where he knew he belonged all along.

His height has been the biggest barrier to entry.

UNC offensive analyst Caleb Pickrell knows Lampkin’s struggle well. Pickrell coached Lampkin at Lakeland High School , where college coaches saw Lampkin’s stature and then looked the other way.

He wouldn’t let it happen again.

“I took his film to the guys [and] made sure that they watched it and told them, you know, I pretty much stood on the table for the kid, and said, ’I understand he’s undersized, but he’s a hell of a football player,’” Pickrell said. “And we brought him in, and it’s worked out pretty well.”

Lampkin started all 11 games in 2023 and was voted to the Preseason All-ACC team ahead of the fall season. He’ll be tasked again with blocking for one of the nation’s top running backs, Omarion Hampton, and have the added challenge of protecting whichever signal-caller might take the field in North Carolina’s season opener at Minnesota.

But please, for his own sake, stop reading this. Scroll back up to the numbers that codify him on the roster: His height — 5-foot-11. He’s the second-shortest offensive lineman in the ACC. Miami’s Ian Johnson, with no logged minutes, has him beaten by an inch.

Continue to doubt Lampkin. Count him out. Ignore the low center of gravity, the footwork and the long arms and strong hands. Give him someone else to prove wrong.

He loves it. He thrives on it. It’s his secret weapon.

“I’ve seen it as an advantage,” he said.

As the leader of North Carolina’s own Island of Misfit Toys — Lampkin is the only offensive lineman with any starting experience, at any school — he champions their underdog mentality.

Brown took a chance on Lampkin and he has been a “blessing.” But the undersized player’s path to Chapel Hill has been far from happenstance.

Lampkin’s Florida roots

Let’s start in Florida. Lampkin isn’t really from Lakeland, as the North Carolina roster indicates, but nearby Plant City. Even that is overly broad. Go just south of Plant City and you’ll find his true hometown: Bealsville (pronounced Bees-ville). Lampkin’s family calls it “the country.” The unincorporated community, settled by former slaves in 1865 , isn’t recognized by the U.S. Census. Population: ??? Spanish moss drapes over live oak trees. Strawberries and watermelons are common exports.

It’s a walkable community filled with little more than wide open space. Green grass and fertile farms line the horizon. But the long dirt road beside his childhood home is where Lampkin chose to run. There’s no shade there. No wind, either. Just the “still hot,” as his uncle calls it.

This is what Kyera Joyce found her son doing when she returned from long shifts as a medical assistant. He was 5, maybe 6, at the time. That’s when Lampkin began playing organized flag football — graduating from the casual games with other children in the fields between his extended family’s properties. And his sprinting wasn’t part of some neighborhood game or childish play.

Lampkin was conditioning. He darted up and down the road to get in shape. If his coaches taught him a new drill, he replicated it at home and practiced it over and over.

“That’s just one of the things that God blessed him with at an early age,” Kyera said of Lampkin’s work ethic, “and he just held on. That’s what I believe.”

Growing up in Bealsville is growing up around family. Lampkin’s grandparents lived down the road; his cousins nearby. Even those not related by blood were connected by mere proximity. If Lampkin was out causing trouble — which his older sister Te’Ariana can attest did happen from time to time — his mother would know by the time he returned home.

One time in middle school, Te’Ariana recalled, Lampkin had his park privileges taken away. He was instructed to stay home. Don’t go anywhere.

“And he left,” Te’Ariana said. “Then he got caught one day. He didn’t make it back in time.”

Their mother was upset. And while Te’Ariana didn’t detail Lampkin’s exact punishment, his grandmother Adrienne Joyce helped fill in the details.

“His momma don’t play,” she said. “I’m telling — she don’t play now. Mmmmhmmm.”

Lampkin stayed in the next day.

Manners and church. Yes ma’am and no sir. That’s what Lampkin was raised on. The same core values have carried on for generations in his family — all the way back to Adrienne’s 85-year-old uncle. He swears his mother still disciplines him daily.

So it was no surprise that when Lampkin got in trouble at Mulberry High School one spring, Kyera did not take the phone call home lightly.

“A lesson has to be learned,” she said. “That’s what I feel like. If you make a mistake, if you don’t learn from it, then you gonna make the same mistake again. … I said, ‘You won’t play football this spring. You have to sit out.’”

To Kyera, there are no free passes. As she reinforced the point over the phone in early August, explaining her parenting style, she paused the conversation to attend to something in the distance. She’s still at work. It’s nearing 5 p.m. and her shift should have ended hours ago, but a coworker hadn’t shown.

This is nothing new. Not for Kyera nor her family. Her mother, Adrienne, works four night shifts a week at a Sonoco warehouse. Kyera’s father, Isaiah Joyce Sr., has been working as a miner for The Mosaic Company for over three decades. It didn’t matter if he was on his deathbed, said daughter Kyisaiah Hicks. He went to work. He couldn’t let anyone down.

Even now, Joyce Sr. can hardly come to Willie’s games because of his work schedule and limited vacations.

“I feel like we’re saying, like, ‘We want you to be better than us,’” Lampkin’s uncle, Isaiah Joyce Jr., said. “We don’t want you to be the same. Be better. Have better opportunities for the future … he uses that as motivation. He sees my dad go to work a lot, so I feel like that’s a part of what makes him go to work when he goes to work on that field.

“So he put in that OT.”

Tough times, and a transfer

After Lampkin’s first two years at Mulberry, Kyera lost her job. Financial instability followed and difficult decisions loomed.

“I even talked to my pastors about it,” Kyera said. “What should we do? What’s the next step? How do we move forward?”

Kyera decided Lampkin should move in with his father, a truck driver based in Lakeland. It was hard for Kyera, but it gave Lampkin a stable environment while she navigated unemployment.

The move meant Lampkin had to transfer schools, leaving behind Mulberry High School and the familiarity of his friends and routines to attend Lakeland High School. But it wasn’t all bad — Lakeland was a renowned powerhouse program with six state championships.

Pickrell still vividly remembers when Lampkin transferred to Lakeland. He received a call from the office about a new player.

But there was one slight problem: Lampkin was unsure about continuing football. He’d thought about dropping it to focus on wrestling.

“I talked to him and said, ‘Just give it a chance here,’” Pickrell said. “‘I think you’ll do well.’ And he did flourish and he was starting in, like, three days.”

Lampkin played on both the offensive and defensive lines under coach Bill Castle. He was instrumental in Lakeland’s success, including winning the 2018 FHSAA Class 7A state championship and reaching the state runner-up position in 2019. Lampkin earned recognition as a three-star recruit by ESPN and 247Sports Composite, and a two-star recruit by Rivals.

Pickrell thought he was capable of more.

“If he were 6-4, he’d be playing in the SEC,” Pickrell told the Lakeland Ledger in 2019.

It felt like everyone around Lampkin was earning big-time offers and scholarships. But when college coaches came in to watch Lampkin, it was a different story.

“They’d put eyes on him and just tell us, ‘Hey, he’s a fantastic football player, but he’s really too limited in his size for what we’re looking for,’” Pickrell said. “I think that always put a chip on his shoulder. … I think that kind of drove him a little bit harder and made him a little bit more relentless in competition.”

Wrestling translates to football

Chad Kirkman still isn’t sure how he did it. The Lakeland High School assistant wrestling coach returned home every day of Lampkin’s senior season in pain.

“I’d go home and tell my wife, ‘I can’t feel my arms right now,’” he said.

Kirkman served as Lampkin’s training partner. There was no high school teammate big enough, no other options.

“To his credit, he understands his weight,” Kirkman said. “If he really wanted to, he could probably crush me, but he wouldn’t. So I give him credit for that.”

There was no way for Kirkman to push on Lampkin and simply overpower him. The coach had to move a little lower, move his feet more. Soon, Lampkin mirrored him.

Lampkin won the 2020 FHSAA Class 2A state championship on a leg attack that Kirkman claims “nobody was ready for.” But Lampkin drilled that move over and over again. And, in a close match with his undefeated season on the line, Lampkin went for the sweep single — going down to one knee and wrapping his arms around his opponent’s leg.

“He just timed it perfectly,” Kirkman said. “Kinda honestly, easy. The kid just fell on his face because it was just so perfect.”

Lampkin applies the same approach on the offensive line. It’s all about angles and positioning.

“I’m already smaller than the majority of the guys I face so I have to have that technique in my bag to use,” he said.

He’s a pesky opponent to line up against. With the help of his wrestling background, Lampkin has turned his height into an advantage — allowing him to get up and under the pads of the defensive line.

Unfortunately for 6-foot-4 lineman Jahvaree Ritzie, he was the victim of this lethal combination during one recent open practice, and was rendered helpless.

“That’s when I can really sense some frustration from those guys,” Lampkin said. “With Ritzie, they have to get used to it because I go against them every day. So it happens.”

Lampkin smiled as he broke down his fall camp highlight. He even spoke in his teammates’ defense — ”they get the best of me sometimes.”

But, more often, it’s the other way around.

Sophomore defensive lineman Beau Atkinson tried after an August practice to explain the unique challenges Lampkin presents. He was interrupted.

“He’s a dawg!” yelled quarterback Conner Harrell from across the indoor practice facility. “He’s a dawg!”

“Like Conner said, Willie’s a dawg for sure,” Atkinson said. “It’s difficult going against … obviously I’m going against tackles the most. Those guys are very difficult. But then, being able to switch from that to going against Willie, who’s smaller but strong as an ox, it’s very hard. You think that you can just get around but his feet are so incredible and add his strength? Yeah. He’s a beast. He’s a beast. It’s gonna be difficult for guys to go against him this year for sure.”

‘He wants to be the hero’

Ask Lampkin’s old wrestling coaches to describe him, and they’ll point to his magnetism.

“[He’s] super outgoing,” said Winston Phan, Lakeland’s wrestling coach. “Everyone knew him in the county. He always had a big smile on his face. There’s a reason why, anytime he wrestled, he just had a crowd around him. People rooted for him just because of his personality, more than just his ability on the mat.”

Michael Farley, another Lakeland wrestling coach, recalled opponents high-fiving Lampkin — even if he just beat their team.

“That’s just how Willie is,” Farley said. “People love him.”

Farley drove Lampkin to school and the two are still close. Farley’s visited Lampkin in Chapel Hill. Lampkin’s attended barbecues back in Florida with Farley and his friends, who always comment on how well-mannered Lampkin is.

But there’s another side of Lampkin. As kind as he is to others, he is harsh on himself. Kyera calls him a “sore loser.” His old coaches would agree.

It wasn’t enough for Lampkin to win — he had to dominate. Win by more. Win worse. As the high schooler progressed, opponents often ran away from him to avoid getting pinned. Lampkin looked to his coaches, throwing his hands up when this happened. Phan often had to remind an angry Lampkin after matches, “Bro, you went out there and kicked that kid’s butt.”

“He throws a little temper tantrum here and there because he wants to do everything on his shoulders,” Phan said. “He wants to be the hero. Sometimes you can’t get into that position and you get a little upset. Even in his winning days, he was a sore winner.”

Lampkin lost only a few times his junior wrestling season. But each time, he was bothered.

“That’s never gonna happen again,” Kirkman would hear Lampkin say on the ride home. “I can’t believe that happened. I’m better than he is.”

A week after losing in the wrestling state championship his junior year, Lampkin saw his barber, Fredrick Smith, for a haircut.

Smith asked Lampkin, “What happened, man?”

Finally, after Smith pressed his client a bit, Lampkin admitted he was tired.

“He said, ‘That won’t happen again,’” Smith said. “And it didn’t.”

The match that stands out to Phan the most from Lampkin’s senior year isn’t his state championship victory. It was his rematch against Curtis Ruff, who had defeated Lampkin for a state title the year before.

The match dragged on — neither wrestler could take the other one down — and soon extended into the last tiebreaker period. A coin flip. Lampkin won. He had the option: top or bottom?

In the state finals the year before, Ruff had selected bottom in the tiebreaker. He escaped and won. Game over.

“I think he had it inside of him where he’s like, ‘I want to beat this kid the way he was trying to beat me,’” Phan said. “And he chose top instead. So now Willie has to ride this kid out for 30 seconds to win the match. It was a little nerve-wracking.”

But Lampkin rode Ruff out to win.

“He believed in himself enough — and this kid is a returning state champion — he took it upon himself to say, ‘Hey, I can do this,’” Kirkman said. “And we’re like ‘All right, that’s your fault.’ And it worked out for him.”

‘Watch him play’

Before J.J. Jones became teammates with Lampkin, the wideout watched Lampkin play at Coastal Carolina . That’s where Lampkin landed out of high school, choosing the Chanticleers over offers from USF, Southern Mississippi, Eastern Michigan, Appalachian State and Middle Tennessee.

Jones, from Myrtle Beach, S.C., said “around town, everybody knew Willie was a ballplayer.”

“And then when came [to UNC], everyone gravitated toward him as a leader,” Jones said.

This year’s offensive line is a new group, with two redshirt sophomores likely to start at tackle and a graduate transfer at center in Austin Blaske.

Last season, Lampkin didn’t feel as comfortable speaking up as the new guy. But now?

“On the offensive line he’s always talking to us, getting us fired up,” Blaske said. “He’s unbelievable. He’s like a guy 6-5, 300 pounds with 14% body fat, the way he plays. I couldn’t ask for a better offensive guard in college football. I’m glad I get to play next to Willie Lampkin every day.”

Lampkin described the group as tight-knit. They get together to eat — one of Lampkin’s favorite pastimes — or just hang out. Lampkin leads off drills in practice. When it’s not his rep, he’s offering encouragement to his teammates, telling them what they did well and dapping them up as they step off the field.

Then, when practice ends, Lampkin sticks around. One day he’s slamming a medicine ball over and over again. Another day he’s jogging laps around the field. Sometimes when Chapel Hill’s weather mimics the “still hot” back home, Lampkin leaves the indoor practice facility and completes his extra drills outside.

Heat waves obfuscate the horizon. There is no long dirt road here, but the destination and journey are the same.

Lampkin, when he lines up against Minnesota, will be sandwiched by two 6-foot-8 tackles on either side. The effect is a humorous V-like shape — almost a valley — in UNC’s offensive line.

Go ahead and laugh. Write him off. Continue to reduce him to that one immovable measurement that dwarfs in comparison to the mountains of effort Lampkin’s poured in over the years.

“He is a guy who breaks down all of those theories about stats,” Brown said. “If you measure him, you’re not gonna take him.

“But watch him play.”