9 Remember the Titans
NINE
Remember the Titans
I couldn’t contain my excitement as I headed down to Georgia to film Remember the Titans.
This was a high priority Walt Disney film with an Oscar-winning star and a producer known for creating action-packed blockbusters.
The script was brilliant, the crew was seasoned, and the director, Boaz Yakin, was poised to become one of Hollywood’s most bankable directors.
It was also my first big live action film, and it was a great film. I still get chills when I watch it.
During our first cast meeting, though, all I could do was stare at the young, muscular guys who were portraying the infamous Titans’ football team.
“Wow,” I said, turning to Mom, “if this is who I’m working with, put me in, Coach.”
What I don’t think I or anyone else realized was that, at ten years old, I’d been a working actor longer than most of the people in the film.
I might have been motivated by nerves, but I could hold my own when I had to, and I worked hard at my job.
Plus, I was brimming over with excitement about meeting so many new people.
I’d read the script dozens of times, and as far as I was concerned, I wasn’t stretching one inch to become Sheryl Yoast.
Denzel Washington was expected to carry the film, which was no surprise.
He’d been nominated for an Academy Award several times and had won as Best Supporting Actor in 1992 for Glory, and all of us at that cast meeting felt more than honored to be working with him.
Mom’s number one job on any set was to protect me and make sure people respected my work, so as soon as she got a chance, she walked over to him to introduce me.
I might not have anywhere close to the billing he did, but we had plenty of scenes together, and she wanted him to think of me as something other than just some kid.
“Mr. Washington,” Mom said, “this is my daughter, Hayden. She’s playing Sheryl Yoast.”
Denzel was seated with his head down. He took his time to look up.
“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden,” he said with that serious, gravelly voice of his. “I look forward to working with you.”
The conversation stopped there. This was a big surprise because if anyone could keep a conversation going, it was me and Mom.
When we walked away, I could tell something wasn’t sitting right with Mom.
“I guess I feel bad for disturbing him,” she said. “He looked like he was deep in whatever method or process he’s going through to prepare for his role. And Herman Boone’s not an easy character. This film is about racism, and that’s a very intense, sensitive subject.”
As filming started, Denzel’s manner didn’t change one bit.
I don’t know if it was his credentials or his personality, but he carried himself with a certain austerity that forced me to take him seriously—not that I didn’t do that already.
He occupied his own intense space because that’s how he created his character, and everyone knew to respect it.
One of our biggest scenes together involved Denzel as Herman Boone coming to the Yoast house hoping to talk to my dad, Bill.
Boone had just taken my dad’s head coaching job, so Sheryl was no fan of his.
When the script called for Sheryl to open the door, my plan was to stare daggers at Denzel and growl, “What do you want?” like some young, ferocious creature protecting her den and everyone in it.
Sheryl was fiercely loyal to her dad—something I could relate to—and she had no time for Herman Boone.
The cameras started rolling, and the director called “Action!”
Knock, knock.
I reached for the doorknob, clenching my jaw and narrowing my eyes as I readied myself to say my big, mean line…
… and as I opened the door, there stood Denzel with his mouth open and his tongue sticking out.
“Cut!” the director called.
Denzel did this same routine at least five times, and each time the grip on my professionalism slipped farther away.
We were fast friends from there on out. There were footballs scattered everywhere around the set, and between takes Denzel and I tossed a football back and forth like I was one of his kids. Sometimes the handsome football players joined in, and that made the game even more fun.
The entire cast and crew—and especially Will Patton, who is one of the kindest, most soulful people I’ve ever met—treated me like an equal the entire movie.
I was far and away the youngest on set, but I felt like I was one of them.
I could communicate with them, even without words or a football, because they were working actors just like me.
They understood how hard it is to balance an all-consuming job with the rest of your life, and they were exhausted—yet exhilarated—at the end of each day, just like I was.
Mom was treated as an equal, too, which can be unusual on a set.
We’ve all heard rumors about stage moms. But during the scene where Sheryl visits Gerry, a football player who suffered partial paralysis after a car crash, Boaz Yakin let Mom stand by him and coach me.
He even listened to her opinions about the best take.
“She should probably be crying in this scene,” Mom said to Boaz.
Boaz frowned. “I’m not sure about that,” he answered.
Mom shook her head. “No, she should be. Trust me. This is the take you want.”
Guess which take made the final cut?
When an actor gets older, people begin to have expectations about what and how much they can deliver.
With each TV show, commercial, or film, those expectations become higher, and you have to meet them even when it seems impossible.
If you don’t, you get terrible reviews or get passed over for the next job.
During Remember the Titans, everyone’s expectations for me were low because I was a kid, so they were in awe when I delivered, and I was forgiven when I messed up.
I hadn’t found myself in that sweet spot before, and I haven’t again.
I also related to Sheryl so much that she made me feel powerful, and that confidence made her character come alive.
As Sheryl, I was strong and authentic, and on Remember the Titans I was the happiest I’d ever felt as an actor.
If I could go back and do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat.