By Sheryl McAlister
He has always romanticized the idea of football. A poet, really, in a linebacker’s body, he found a cadence in the traditions, the routine, the structure. He found beauty in the brotherhood with his teammates. He found catharsis in the competition and gratitude in the opportunity.
He spent the spring working the stage crew for a local community theatre production of Monty Python’s Spamalot. He spent the fall chasing college football’s holy grail.
And his team got oh-so-close.
The team’s magical season coincided with the best individual season my nephew has ever had. Then again, he has always found more gratification in the wins than in personal accomplishments. Don’t get me wrong, though. He is proud of what he has done this year. The two team losses just take an emotional toll.
He should be proud. A starter for the first time, he was named to the 2025 All-Pioneer Football League’s First Team Defense. He finished the season: 1st on Presbyterian’s tackles list; 2nd in tackles for conference play and 3rd overall on the Pioneer Football League’s tackles list, and is listed as the 11th-ranked college inside linebacker on the Pro Football Focus (PFF) national list.
In 2025’s historic run, the Presbyterian Blue Hose were nationally ranked in 2 different polls and finished as the highest-ranked Division 1 school in South Carolina’s collegiate standings. The Blue Hose defense ranked 6th in Division 1 FCS in third-down defense. PC was one of the top defensive teams in the PFL and in the country.
Heady stuff for a kid who came off the bench for the past two seasons and not much at that.
We were a championship team, he told my mom – his grandmother and arguably his most ardent supporter. Yes, they were. But the historic season was marred by a stunning upset on a sunny November afternoon in North Carolina, where they watched it all slip through their fingers.
There would be no playoff spot for the 10-2 Blue Hose. People will often say “if it was meant to be…” and all that. Here’s the thing. It was meant to be. And we were all left wondering what could have been. What should have been.
I have watched this kid chase his dream since he was 10 years old. He joined his first school team as a scrawny middle schooler who didn’t play much. In high school, he finally played for coaches who recognized his potential and made him a defender. Those high school coaches, as well as his college coaches, always had his back.
He got better. Survived Covid, like every other kid his age. Because, well, high school athletes during that 2-year period were ripped off. Some fell through the cracks. After a visit to PC, he told his mom, “this is where I want to go. It feels like home.”
Presbyterian College gave him a shot. But it was an opportunity 3 years in the making. After a redshirt freshman year, he put in the work and played mostly on special teams and as a backup. He stuck around, though, in an age when the collegiate portal makes it too easy for the impatient players to jump around. His patience paid off. This season was everything he dreamed it would be. Almost.
PC called his 2025 year a “breakout season.” Here’s the truth: He finally got the chance to show what he was capable of all along.
He has an innate desire for competition and has strong leadership skills. He comes by it honestly. Those types of driven, talented athletes are on both his mother’s and his father’s side. At times, he reminds me of my dad, Van McAlister — his grandfather, who died 12 years ago. There’s a story about Dad as a high school football player when he was chosen as an alternate for the prestigious Shrine Bowl game. At the last minute, someone had to drop out, and legendary coach Red Myers said, “Call McAlister. He’ll be ready.”
Myers knew Dad had worked construction all summer and would be accustomed to the heat and hard work. Dad went on to win the game’s Most Valuable Player honors. That’s the spirit my nephew embodies for me. Be ready. And pray your chance comes.
It did. And he was.
The small D1 college in Clinton, S.C., catapulted into the national conversation this season, with football pundits wondering just where Clint-ton was. (Pronounced Clinnon. IYKYK). The Blue Hose allowed the fans, the school, and the community to witness something special. As the season wore on, so grew my nephew’s confidence in directing traffic in the middle of the field. Reading the offense. Shifting with the rhythms of the opposing team. In tune with his defensive coordinator and his linebackers’ coach. Poetic.
Funny thing, chances. The question is, will you be ready if you get yours?
“Nobody knows what I do or how hard I work every day,” he said to me one day in late summer about the grueling schedule football players keep in preparation for a season. “They’ll know when you hit the field this fall,” I told him. “Let your actions speak louder than your words.”
Ultimately, he preferred to keep the grind to himself. He learned to include the little things in his physical routine. The kind of little things that take a player from good enough to really good. His mental toughness was never in question. This kid has endured the loss of a beloved grandfather, an adored father, and a cherished best friend – all before he was 16 years old.
A kid doesn’t come out the other side of that kind of profound loss and grief without focus or appreciation.
He always had the heart for this game. He always had the ability. Fortunately, he got the opportunity to put it all on the line. He has one year of collegiate eligibility left. And he would like to use it to pursue a graduate degree at a place that values his kind of commitment and heart.
I am deeply appreciative of this little D1 college and this small South Carolina town for a beautiful ride. The people, the staff, athletic department, administration, coaches, parents and players gave us fans a season to remember. The road trips we made with the team were unforgettable. The Clinton police escorts that met our buses when we arrived home after a win … heartwarming.
As Boyce Bankhead’s aunt, I am equal parts relieved, grateful, proud, and happy for the kid who has worked so hard for so long.
Four short months ago, his most impatient self was anxious that his hard work might not be recognized. Not confident that his time would come. That they wouldn’t know how much he invested in this chance he so desperately wanted.
They know now, kiddo.
Copyright 2025 Sheryl McAlister.
Related stories about Boyce Bankhead: Defining Moments; Friday Night Lights; More Than a Game; Let ‘Em Play; Young Fan Predicts Panthers’ Win; A Dream & A Promise
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