Drew Hill was small. Really small. In an era where NFL scouts were starting to fall in love with the physical prototypes of the modern wideout, Hill stood about 5'9" and weighed maybe 170 pounds if he had a heavy lunch. He wasn't supposed to be a star. He was a 12th-round pick, a "dart throw" by the Los Angeles Rams in 1979 who spent his first few years basically running under punts and hoping not to get decapitated.
Then he went to Houston.
If you weren't watching the NFL in the mid-1980s, it's hard to explain how much the Run 'n' Shoot offense changed the game, and Drew Hill was the engine that made it purr. While Jerry Rice was redefining the position in San Francisco, Hill was quietly putting up numbers in the Astrodome that would make modern fantasy football owners weep with joy. He wasn't just a "speed guy." He was a master of the nuance of the slot, a player who understood leverage before "analytics" was a buzzword in front offices.
The Trade That Changed Everything
The Rams didn't know what they had. To be fair, most teams didn't. Back then, if you were under six feet tall, you were a kick returner or a liability. Hill languished on the Rams' roster for years. He had one decent season in 1981, but he was mostly an afterthought.
When he signed with the Houston Oilers in 1985, the league didn't blink. It was just another depth move for a team that was perpetually trying to find its identity. But Houston was building something weird. They were moving toward a four-wide receiver set—a radical idea at a time when most teams still had a fullback lead-blocking on every play.
Hill joined a room that included Ernest Givins, Curtis Duncan, and Haywood Jeffires. They called them the "House of Pain" or the "Four Horsemen," depending on who you asked. But Hill was the elder statesman. He was the one Warren Moon trusted when the pocket collapsed and the blitz was screaming off the edge.
Moon and Hill developed a psychic connection. Seriously. You can go back and watch the tape from 1986 or 1988; Moon would release the ball before Hill even made his break. That requires a level of trust that most modern QB-WR duos spend years trying to replicate.
Why We Underestimate the Numbers
Let's talk about the stats for a second. Between 1985 and 1991, Drew Hill was essentially a lock for 1,000 yards. He did it five times in seven years. In 1991, at the age of 35—an age when most receivers are looking for a coaching gig or a TV spot—he caught 90 passes for 1,109 yards.
That’s ridiculous.
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Think about the equipment. The turf in the Astrodome was basically green-painted concrete. The defenders were allowed to hand-check you until you were ten yards downfield. They could essentially clothesline you across the middle without a flag. Hill played through all of that. He was tough as nails, despite being the smallest guy on the field.
He finished his career with 634 receptions and 9,831 yards. If he had played in today’s pass-happy league with modern protection rules, you could easily add 30% to those totals. He’d be a Hall of Fame lock. As it stands, he’s one of those names that only "real" football fans remember, which is a damn shame.
The Run 'n' Shoot Legacy
The Oilers' offense was a fever dream. No tight end. No lead blocker. Just Warren Moon in the shotgun with four guys sprinting into space. It was a high-wire act.
Hill was the "Z" receiver, often motioning across the formation to find the soft spot in the zone. Because he was so small and quick, linebackers couldn't touch him, and safeties were terrified of his deep speed. He wasn't just a vertical threat, though. He was the king of the "option route."
Basically, Hill would run at a defender, see how they were shading him, and make a choice. If the corner played off, he’d sit in the hole. If they pressed, he’d blow past them. It required high-level football IQ. Hill wasn't just an athlete; he was a tactician.
The Atlanta Years and the Quiet Exit
By the time Hill got to Atlanta in 1992, he was 36. Most people thought he was washed. He wasn't. He still managed to put up nearly 1,000 yards in his first season with the Falcons. He helped mentor a young Andre Rison and provided a steady hand for an offense that was always on the verge of chaos.
He eventually retired after the 1993 season. There was no massive farewell tour. No gold jacket waiting for him in Canton immediately. He just stopped playing.
Sadly, Drew Hill passed away in 2011 at the age of 54. He suffered a massive stroke. It was a shock to the NFL community, especially his former teammates in Houston. Warren Moon was devastated. You could tell, even years later, how much respect those guys had for him. He wasn't the loudest guy in the room. He didn't have the flashy celebrations. He just went out and did his job, play after play, on knees that had been beaten up by years of Astroturf.
What Coaches Today Can Learn From Hill
If you're a coach or a scout, Drew Hill is the ultimate "don't trust the measurables" case study.
- Leverage beats size. Hill used his low center of gravity to explode out of breaks. Defenders couldn't get a hand on him because he was always lower and more balanced than they were.
- The "Checkdown" is a weapon. Hill made a living on 8-yard gains that turned into 20-yard gains. He knew how to catch and turn in one fluid motion.
- Longevity is about intelligence. You don't play receiver in the NFL until you're 37 by being the fastest guy. You do it by knowing where the sticks are and understanding what the defense is trying to do to you before they even do it.
The Misconception of the "System Player"
Critics often tried to dismiss Hill as a product of the Run 'n' Shoot. They’d say, "Oh, anyone could catch 80 balls in that offense."
That's nonsense.
If it were that easy, every receiver who played in Houston or Atlanta during those years would have 10,000 career yards. They don't. Hill was the constant. He was the guy who stayed healthy, stayed focused, and stayed productive while others cycled in and out of the league. He thrived because he was precise. In an offense built on timing, precision is everything.
Ranking the Greats
When we talk about the best receivers of the 80s and early 90s, the list usually starts with Rice, then moves to Largent, Lofton, and maybe Art Monk. Drew Hill deserves to be in the next breath. He might not have the rings, but his impact on how the slot position is played today is undeniable. You see shades of him in guys like Julian Edelman or Cooper Kupp—players who win with their minds and their footwork rather than just raw physicality.
How to Appreciate Drew Hill Today
If you want to actually understand why Drew Hill was special, don't just look at a box score. Go to YouTube. Find a full game of the 1987 or 1990 Oilers.
Watch #85.
Watch how he handles a jam at the line. Watch how he finds the open space in a cluttered secondary. It’s a masterclass.
Actionable Insights for Fans and Students of the Game:
- Study the Option Route: If you’re a young receiver, look at how Hill adjusted his stems based on defender alignment. It’s the highest form of the craft.
- Evaluate "Small" Prospects Differently: Next time you see a 5'9" receiver in the draft, don't write them off. Look for "Hill-like" traits: balance, suddenness, and a high football IQ.
- Respect the Era: Remember that Hill’s stats came in a time when defenders were essentially allowed to mug receivers. Adjust your expectations of what "greatness" looks like accordingly.
Drew Hill was a giant in a small man's body. He proved that if you're fast enough, smart enough, and tough enough, the "measurables" don't mean a thing. He remains the gold standard for the professional, consistent wide receiver—a player who did more with less than almost anyone in the history of the sport.