Curtis McClinton. His name laces the rim of Memorial Stadium, an omnipresent testimony to a Kansas football great. If you recognize McClinton’s name at all, that’s probably how. Before this weekend, I was similarly uninformed. Our loss.

With the recent release of the Ernie Davis biopic, “The Express,” additional attention has justifiably been shifted to the too-often overlooked Syracuse tailback. As the trailers remind us, he was the first African-American to win the Heisman Trophy. He led Syracuse to a national championship, defeating the undefeated Texas Longhorns in Dallas’ Cotton Bowl.

Needless to say, Davis faced prejudices we can scarcely imagine today. Davis wasn’t even allowed to attend the post-Cotton Bowl banquet, at which he was to be named the game’s MVP.

From 1959 to 1961, Davis presented himself as a model student-athlete. Such was the respect for Davis that, when he was awarded the Heisman, President Kennedy sent him the following telegram: “Seldom has an athlete been more deserving of such a tribute. Your high standards of performance on the field and off the field reflect the finest qualities of competition, sportsmanship and citizenship. The nation has bestowed upon you its highest awards for your athletic achievements. It’s a privilege for me to address you tonight as an outstanding American, and as a worthy example of our youth. I salute you.”

Certainly, Davis was deserving of that salute. And Davis’ story deserves the spotlight it now has. Americans — especially football fans, should know Ernie Davis.

Similarly, Kansas football fans should know Curtis McClinton — and not just as a name plastered on Memorial Stadium’s Ring of Honor.

First of all, McClinton was a fantastic football player. He was recognized as such and was named an All-American in 1961, and All-Big Eight from 1958-1961.

Despite primarily serving as a blocking back, McClinton managed to compile 1,377 yards during his three years at the University of Kansas (a more impressive total than it initially sounds like, considering the shorter seasons and lower-scoring games of the time). As if that weren’t enough, McClinton won the Big Eight’s hurdle championship all three years he competed.

McClinton would go on to find success at the professional level as well, playing eight seasons with the Kansas City Chiefs franchise (his rookie year was spent in Dallas before the team relocated to Kansas City). He was named AFL Rookie of the Year, and a three-time pro bowler — even garnering the game’s MVP honors in 1962. He scored the first touchdown by an AFL player in Super Bowl history, and he played on the Chiefs’ world championship team in January 1970. McClinton would eventually be named to the Chiefs Hall of Fame.

Had McClinton accomplished only that, he would merit being highly regarded. But for all of his success as a football player, McClinton would further distinguish himself after his playing days ended.

He earned a master’s degree, then a doctorate. His postgraduate studies were spent at Harvard’s Kennedy school of government.

His scholastic endeavors finished, McClinton found employment with Amtrak. His next foray was into the world of government, when he moved on to the Department of Commerce. McClinton would also serve as the Deputy Mayor of Washington, D.C. McClinton then found his way back into the private sector, working in city development and investment banking.

In 1992, McClinton returned to the local area, establishing himself in Kansas City. His impact in the community was significant. McClinton was the founding president of the Black Economic Union of Greater Kansas City, an organization that has since worked to develop struggling minority communities.

Years after he shelved his cleats, McClinton hadn’t forgotten football. To help promote leadership, teamwork, and education to children in urban communities, McClinton established the Curtis McClinton Keys League. Hundreds of kids now benefit from that benevolence.

Unfortunately, I can’t offer the kind of salute to McClinton that Kennedy did to Davis. The words of a President just so happen carry more weight than those of a college sports columnist of no particular repute. But that’s fine — so long as more can now properly appreciate the man who is represented at the North end of Memorial Stadium.

— — Edited by Brenna Hawley