While watching top-ranked Kapolei win convincingly to advance to the OIA championship game Friday, I was reminded of one of the many things June Jones, who died Wednesday at 73, did for Hawaii football.
It leads straight back to Hurricanes head coach Darren Hernandez, who built that program from its infancy but was secure enough to welcome a legend onto his staff as a volunteer.
Hernandez was an underdog himself, a self-described scrub player at Campbell who just wanted to hit the guy across from him without much of a concept of the broader game. But he grew into one of the state’s elite coaches.
He wasn’t threatened by Jones. He embraced him.
When Jones joined Kapolei in 2016, Hernandez explained the thinking to Hawaii Prep World.
“People say June coaching at Kapolei is a step down. It’s not about going down. Football is football. He loves Hawaii. He wants to be in Hawaii. It’s a natural fit.”
There was also a specific purpose to the arrangement: Jones wanted to mentor Taulia Tagovailoa, younger brother of Tua, and pass along what he knew to another generation. I remember Hernandez telling me Jones was among his most reliable assistants, the former national college coach of the year riding his motorcycle the 25 miles from his Kahala home for every practice and never late.
Jones was a football savant, but he also had a huge heart for the underdog and Hawaii.
That combination was evident throughout his coaching career, particularly at UH, where he became known for giving second chances.
Some of those chances didn’t always turn out as hoped. The most prominent player who later struggled with addiction was Heisman Trophy finalist Colt Brennan, whose life ended at 37 in 2021. Stories about others are also reminders that football success doesn’t necessarily translate into an easy life afterward.
Still, some of the second chances were spectacular.
Before arriving at the University of Hawaii, Davone Bess, Pisa Tinoisamoa and Brennan all had brushes with the law. At UH, they painted masterpieces of accomplishment with good character, and then combined for 16 seasons in the NFL.
This is true for every coach with longevity, but it is worth mentioning here: Dozens, or actually hundreds, of others who came through Jones’ programs over the decades went on to raise families and become successful in other fields or remain in football as coaches.
One of the most prominent is Atlanta Falcons defensive coordinator Jeff Ulbrich, who appears to be on the verge of attaining an NFL head coaching job.
Then there is Timmy Chang, a husband and father of six, who now stands at the helm of the very program where he broke passing records under Jones’ coaching.
Chang’s relationship with Hawaii fans is not easy now as a coach with a 2-6 record, and it wasn’t as a player, either. Despite quarterbacking UH to three winning seasons and winning MVP honors in two bowl games, he was not always a fan favorite; one of the NCAA records was for interceptions.
When UH beat Alabama, Jones cried after the game. They were not tears of joy. They were tears of regret that many of the Hawaii fans at Aloha Stadium had booed Chang, who had struggled and was replaced by backup Jason Whieldon. Jones had pulled Chang from the game, but he never stopped believing in him. Chang eventually regained his starting role.
The connection lasted long after Chang’s playing days.
Following Jones’ death, Chang described him as “a father figure, a mentor, and a visionary who revolutionized the game.”
Jones’ influence wasn’t limited to players.
One of his second-chance stories was about someone who never had a first chance.
Brian Kajiyama was a small guy in a wheelchair, adapting as he had his entire life to cerebral palsy, as a college student. He was a huge fan who regularly observed practice in person.
Jones saw that he was out of position as just a fan, and could help the team with the technological savvy that, among other things, allowed him to speak using a computer.
There was no rule that said a football graduate assistant had to be a former player, and if there was, Jones wouldn’t care.
Kajiyama handled a variety of administrative duties, including everything from working with practice film breakdowns to occasional class attendance checks. When the Warriors went undefeated in 2007, Kajiyama was a contributor to the effort, and Jones made sure he could continue his duties at the Sugar Bowl.
He and Jones were part of a small contingent from UH that visited a New Orleans children’s hospital, unbeknownst to any media.
As is typical for graduate assistants, Kajiyama received a stipend and took courses tuition-free while working toward a doctorate in education. He still works at UH.
Jones also helped set up the “Heart of a Warrior” scholarship in Kajiyama’s honor.
“Definitely not a gimmick on June’s part,” Kajiyama said via text Saturday. “June didn’t need the attention or spotlight … definitely impacted my life. ALL for the better.”
Jones’ influence also extended well beyond the people who played or worked for him.
He was a co-founder of the Polynesian Football Hall of Fame and remained active with the Polynesian Bowl, helping create opportunities and recognition for generations of players from Hawaii and elsewhere.
At various times, most of UH’s fans wanted to keep him or bring him back. But those charged with making the decision did not, or did not do enough before it was too late to make it happen.
There were fans who felt betrayed by him leaving for SMU and held it against him forever.
His detractors, some powerful, had what they thought were valid reasons for enough distaste to block him from his vision, which included returning as head coach, free of salary, and mentoring an eventual replacement.
Before the arrival of Todd Graham —and after his departure — Jones was willing to coach for free and serve as a bridge to Hawaii’s next head coach.
It never happened.
And then there is the football strategy and tactics.
The biggest misnomer was the run-and-shoot.
As designed by original architect Tiger Ellison, it was more of a run-first option offense, with similarities to today’s quarterback run-pass option.
When Jones’ mentor Mouse Davis modified it, the offense evolved into a pass first, second and last proposition — with one major exception being when Davis and Jones ran the Detroit Lions offense, with four-wide sets and Barry Sanders at running back.
That’s why, when pressed, Jones called his Hawaii offense simply, “what we do,” or “our thing.”
Eventually it lived up to what Jones predicted, or pretty damn close: national rankings, record-setting quarterbacks and a major bowl game.
The full-blown offense itself did not last in the NFL. But one of its key concepts — the idea of adjusting to the defense’s adjustment on a pass play — lives on.
As you watch the NFL games today, the imprint of Jones and Davis is there. It may be hard to see unless you really look for it, and the broadcasters probably won’t mention it.
Actually, it is the logical extension of offensive football, but few saw it, and less dared to even consider implementing it before them.
The root of the tree was Ellison, and Davis and his protege Jones took it to the NFL.
It is the idea of “having the chalk last,” meaning the defense makes a post-snap move and calls check, but the offense then fires back with checkmate as the receiver and quarterback correctly respond — mid-play.
This is speed chess, and there’s very little time as the moves are made, honed through hours of repetition and instant recognition of what the defense is trying to do.
Football is often described in terms of trusting the guy next to you. This is trusting a guy often 20 or more yards away from you to cut the right way, or throw the ball where you will be.
And what most fans don’t realize is that the NFL incorporated this, while laughing off most of the rest of the run-and-shoot.
Jones was a true believer in the Ellison and Davis concepts. But he was not close-minded, even using tight ends on occasion, and implementing rival Chris Ault’s pistol alignment. And he never pigeonholed players — or anyone. He moved them around until he found the best position for them to help the team.
West Keliʻikipi and Reagan Mauia were behemoths who weren’t doing much on defense, so he moved them to offense, where they were huge men making huge contributions at running back. They blocked, but they also turned short passes into big gains, and didn’t need a tush push to get the short yardage for a first down.
Jones saw possibilities others could not imagine. That’s why I call him a savant. And his vision included aloha for those less fortunate.
“June did things to help people that went under the radar, purposefully,” Kajiyama said.
His heart nearly stopped beating after his horrific, one-car crash on the H-1 after the 2000 season. It never stopped beating fiercely for the underdogs, the game of football and the culture of the islands — even when the love was not always returned.
He left more than once, but he always came back. And June Jones’ spirit will always live on in Hawaii, at every level of football.
