Detroit Lions Codexery

Chris Howard

The hammer the Lions swung in the red zone when the line held and the back broke through.

Chris Howard

Chris Howard was a power running back who anchored the Detroit Lions' ground game in the late 1990s. Drafted out of the University of Miami, he became one of the most physically imposing backs the Lions have fielded, known for his between-the-tackles violence and his ability to turn short-yardage situations into first downs that shifted momentum on Fox Field.

In an era when the Lions leaned heavily on a committee backfield, Howard carved out a distinct identity as the go-to runner in the red zone and on third-and-short. His career, though brief, left a lasting imprint on the fanbase as a symbol of the gritty, physical football the Lions were known for in that period.

Position
Running Back
Team
Detroit Lions
College
University of Miami
Draft
1997 NFL Draft, 4th round
Era
Late 1990s (1997–2000)
Playing Style
Power / between-the-tackles runner

Lore & Background

The late-1990s Lions backfield was a committee, but Chris Howard was the committee's blunt instrument. Out of Miami, he carried the kind of frame and lower-body strength that made defensive coordinators rethink their gap assignments. Where other backs looked to cut or bounce, Howard's default was to drive forward, absorb the first hit, and keep pushing. Lions fans of that era still describe watching him run as a visceral, almost uncomfortable experience—shoulders low, eyes up, and a willingness to meet the pile head-on that felt like watching a freight train negotiate a curve.

His role was defined by context: short-yardage, goal-line, and the crucial third-down conversions that kept drives alive. In a league increasingly oriented toward the pass, Howard represented the old-school Lions identity of a team that could still win on the ground when the weather turned cold and the turf at Fox Field got slick. He was not the flashiest name in the backfield, but he was the one the offensive line lined up behind when the play called for a two-yard gain and nothing else.

His departure from Detroit in the early 2000s marked the end of a particular era of Lions football—one in which the running game still carried genuine weight and a back could be remembered primarily for the sound of his pads hitting the pile. For a generation of Lions fans, Howard's name is shorthand for that era: physical, unglamorous, and effective.

In Their Own Story

Fourth quarter. Two yards to go. The wind off the Detroit River is cutting through the end zone, and the crowd at Fox Field has gone from a roar to a low, sustained hum. The center snaps, the guards set, and the ball is handed to Howard, who doesn't break stride. He meets a linebacker at the one-yard line, shoulders into the man's chest, and the linebacker's feet leave the turf. Howard keeps going. One more step. Two. The pile shifts. The whistle blows. The hum becomes a roar so sudden and loud that the sound system distorts it into something almost mechanical, and somewhere in the stands a fan in a Lions hat lets out a whoop that carries over the noise. The ball is on the goal line. The hammer has landed.

Reader's Guide

Chris Howard, running back, Detroit Lions (1997–2000). Drafted in the fourth round out of the University of Miami, Howard was never the headline name in a committee backfield, but he was the one the offensive line trusted in the moments that mattered most: two yards, three yards, the goal line. His signature was the between-the-tackles run—shoulders dropped, head up, meeting the first defender with full extension and refusing to decelerate. Lions fans of that era still talk about the sound of his hits, the way a pile of eight or nine bodies would shift forward a yard or two simply because he was in it.

His defining calls were the short-yardage conversions that kept drives alive in the fourth quarter, the goal-line stands where the Lions chose to run instead of throw, and the physicality he brought to a backfield that otherwise leaned on speed and cutback agility. He was the counterweight, the reminder that the Lions could still win a football game the old way.

His lasting impact on the Detroit fanbase is that of the reliable hammer: not the most celebrated name, but the one you remembered when the game came down to two yards and a cold November wind. For fans who grew up watching the Lions in the late '90s, Howard's name is tied to the feeling of a drive that should have died but didn't, because the back kept running.

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