



CHICAGO – Wisconsin tailback Jonathan Taylor’s favorite philosopher is Immanuel Kant, a German who came of age during the 1700s. Taylor can casually launch into a soliloquy on Kant’s “moral objectives,” showcasing why he seriously considered attending Harvard before choosing Wisconsin.

“There are a lot of different perspectives on things, but, at the end of the day, some things just aren't acceptable, some things are.”

That leads us to the philosophical conundrum of the 2018 Wisconsin football season. How did Taylor rush for a transcendent 2,194 yards amid an uncharacteristic 8-5 Badger season? You didn’t need to study the Age of Enlightenment to know which is acceptable and which isn’t.

(Wisconsin coach Paul Chryst clearly missed that lecture in college. When told Taylor studied Kant, he responded “like Chaka [Khan]?”)

Taylor enters 2019 on a historic pace, with numbers former Wisconsin coach Barry Alvarez, a Badger tailback connoisseur, considers “mind-boggling.” Through two seasons, he has rushed for more yards (4,171) than any player in the history of college football, ahead of Herschel Walker and Ron Dayne. If he registers another season of more than 2,000 yards in his junior year, Taylor could end up among the top-five all-time NCAA rushing leaders. The daunting part is that all the players dotting that list – Donnell Pumphrey, Ricky Williams, Tony Dorsett – all played four seasons.

Essentially, Taylor is on pace to both rewrite the entire NCAA record book and wedge himself onto the Mount Rushmore of Wisconsin tailbacks. While it’s naïve to think he’d stick around four seasons, the possibilities of what he could accomplish in three years are tantalizing.

The fundamental tension in Taylor streaking toward history remains whether Wisconsin can rediscover the identity and philosophy that the program has turned into a brand. The smashmouth Badgers – defined by prolific backs like Dayne, oversized lineman and pro-style leanings that border on defiance – got pushed around at times last season. Wisconsin didn’t dominate the line of scrimmage on either side of the ball for stretches, and the country’s 12th-worst passing game meant Taylor saw more men in the box than an undertaker.

So here’s one of the most compelling scenarios for the 2019 college football season: What if Wisconsin finds a competent quarterback to play complementary football, fills the holes in its offensive line and gets back to, well, being Wisconsin again? Just how far could Jonathan Taylor run?

“He’s going to go down as one of the greatest of all time when it’s all said and done,” said Michigan State defensive end Kenny Willekes. “One of the great backs in college football.”

View photos Wisconsin running back Jonathan Taylor (23) breaks a tackle by Miami defensive back Romeo Finley (30) during the first half of the Pinstripe Bowl NCAA college football game Thursday, Dec. 27, 2018, in New York. Wisconsin defeated Miami 35-3. (AP Photo/Adam Hunger) More

Wisconsin, Rutgers or ... Harvard?

Taylor’s journey began in tiny Salem, New Jersey, a town of less than 5,000 people that’s a 15-minute drive from Delaware. Taylor jokes that it’s so small that his two favorite establishments – Nyce Touch Barber Shop and Grandma’s Café – have the same owners. Taylor loves the lemon pepper wings on Wing Wednesday at Grandma’s, and pops by Nyce Touch to chop it up on the topics of the week.

Fittingly, tiny Salem High School carries a lot of the same football DNA as Wisconsin. His first two seasons, Salem’s power run game included a full-house backfield with three tailbacks. They evolved to a run-first spread out of the Pistol his final two years. Taylor rushed for 2,815 yards as a senior, breaking the single-season state record. (He also smashed the South Jersey single-season record of 2,510 by Corey Clement, another prolific Badger with Jersey roots.)

Taylor proudly brags that Salem’s roster was “35 strong,” as the town has less than 5,000 people. That meant Taylor played both ways, swapping out as a linebacker on the other side of the ball. “It was actually kind of weird not playing both ways my first year in college,” he said. “First time we went three-and-out, I'm on the sideline, like 'Now what?’”

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