Space Cowboy Stands Out as Member of 'Tailback U'

As the Tar Heels ran onto the field, a man wearing a brown blazer, sunglasses and a white UNC hat tapped a buddy on the shoulder.

When his friend looked back at him, the man took a couple of quick steps forward as if to join the team in its pregame celebration. He then stopped and eventually broke out in laughter.

Twenty years after he played tailback for the Tar Heels in the mid-1970s, Mike Voight, the old "Space Cowboy" himself, couldn't just blend in to his surroundings and stand around like everyone else. He had to make someone laugh; he had to stand out a little.

He had to be different.

"I was an unorthodox kind of person -- I was pretty much a rogue," Voight said. "That's the cowboy image. I was pretty much doing it the cowboy way."

For four years, Voight could do it practically any way he wanted in Chapel Hill, so long as he was being productive on the field. The school's third all-time leading rusher with 3,971 yards on a whopping 827 carries, Voight helped to build UNC's tradition of being "Tailback U."

The two-time ACC player of the year gained more than 1,000 yards on the ground in three consecutive seasons, following in the tradition of great UNC backs like Charlie "Choo-Choo" Justice and Don McCauley.

McCauley, who finished his collegiate career in 1970, three years before Voight arrived in Chapel Hill, said the common thread of the running success was the tutelage of former UNC coach Bill Dooley.

"Great coaching, as far as the line play goes, is part of it," McCauley said. "A running back is not going to do a thing unless he's got the blocking."

There were times, though, when it seemed as though Voight didn't need a line -- or anything else. No. 44 wasn't a finesse back, and he certainly wasn't going to try to beat the defense to the corner by bouncing his runs outside.

Nope, Voight was going right into -- and through -- the heart of the defense.

"We went straight-ahead, you know, smashmouth football," Voight said. "Some people called it three yards and a cloud of dust, but I called it four yards and a headache."

A headache for the opponent, that is. And maybe, at times, for his own coach.

Like the time UNC played Miami (Ohio) in its 1976 home opener. Bill Span, a teammate and friend of Voight, said Voight heard Miami coach Dick Crum encourage his players to try to injure him. So on one sweep play, Voight ran by Crum and flashed him his middle finger.

But incidents like that didn't keep Dooley from calling Voight's number over and over again. In fact, the attitude might have helped.

"Dooley wanted guys who were loose, tough; guys who weren't politically correct," Span said. "He didn't want nice guys."

So Voight pounded away, urged on by arduous practices and maybe even more strenuous partying.

That's what made Voight the Space Cowboy, although the story behind the nickname shows that he can spin a yarn or two now and then.

"I didn't have a whole lot of money when I went to school here, and I think I only had three albums, and one of them was a Steve Miller album," Voight said. "And when I'd get up in the morning, I'd put that on. It was 'Fly Like an Eagle.' (My suitemates) heard the song so many times they got tired of it. I said I was gonna fly like an eagle, and they said, 'Nah, you're more like a space cowboy.' And it just stuck."

Stick it did. When McCauley remembered the traits that he loved about Voight, he mentioned the hard-driving way he ran and the determination that he showed.

What else did he remember? The aura, the legend. The Space Cowboy.

"You know, Mike was always different," said McCauley, laughing. "He's got some different interests, some different thoughts, but that's what makes Mike so special."

All of that makes Voight's current endeavors that much more interesting. Voight, who played only one year in the NFL before injuring his hip in a car accident, said that right now he's finishing up an agreement with the pastor at his church in Chesapeake, Va. When the church leader told Voight that he needed to pay his tithes, the former Tar Heel balked at giving money to the church.

Instead, he decided to give his time. Voight said he "donated" 10 years to the recreation department in Chesapeake, and now he's doing 10 more years with the city's education department.

He also is dabbling in real estate, but when he started to talk about a contract he has been working on, he stopped short.

"I don't want to tell you too much about that," Voight said, smiling.

Not surprising. After all, Mike Voight wouldn't be who he is without adding just a little intrigue, just a little mystery.

Without being just a little bit different.

The Sports Editor can be reached at sports@unc.edu.