He had the body and courage of a gladiator -- a well-chiseled 235 pounds on a 6-foot-2 frame. By the way he played as a redshirt freshman in that 1995 season, he was destined for a very bright future.

But at the time, no one realized Matt Hartl would be alive for just four more years.

"He was the consummate football player,'' says Steve Schnur, the quarterback during Northwestern's Big Ten championship runs in '95 and '96. "He was a big strong guy who worked his ass off on the field and in the weight room. He was friends with everyone.''

Many Northwestern fans still point to Hartl's 2-yard reception for the go-ahead touchdown at Michigan as the biggest highlight during that Rose Bowl season. But as the fullback, his primary job was to pave the way for Darnell Autry to rush for 1,785 yards, which landed Autry a fourth-place finish in the Heisman Trophy balloting.

Hartl was one of two redshirt freshmen (joining wide receiver D'Wayne Bates) to start all 12 games for the Wildcats that season. A two-time all-state selection out of Denver, he only rushed eight times for 34 yards, but his 21 receptions (221 yards) were third-highest on the team.

While the Wildcats were matching toward their second consecutive conference title in 1996, their promising fullback was on the sidelines. During the offseason, he was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Disease, the same illness that struck his mother, Eleanor, a few years earlier.

And like his mother, he fought back and the disease was believed to be in remission. He came back with one lung and started all 11 games during the 1997 season. Again he was the lead back for another 1,000-yard rusher, Adrian Autry (no relation). He only carried the ball three times and caught nine passes for 73 yards. He still had one more year of eligibility, but this would be the last time Northwestern fans would see him on the football field.

The cancer was back. And to make matters worse, his mother, who had been his greatest supporter, died of a heart attack. Hartl was sent to clinics throughout the United States hoping to find a cure. But in August 1999, he ran out of time. Hartl was dead at the age of 23.

"There's hardly a day that goes by that I don't think about him at Northwestern,'' says Darnell Autry. "I miss him terribly. He was a great football player, but an even more incredible person. He could do anything. He was a big dude and I was in awe of how agile he was.

"I still remember the last summer camp scrimmage of our (true) freshman year. We were going up against the No. 1 defense and just got pummeled. I had something like 13 yards rushing, I was beat up and muddy. I went back to my room, thinking I didn't know how I was going to do it (at Northwestern).

"We had a barbeque that night and I was miserable,'' he added. "I was trying to hold back the tears when Matt sat next to me and then he said, 'Well, that really sucked.' I just started laughing and then he put his arm around me and said, 'It's going to be all right.' It was just the perfect thing to say at the time.''

"I still remember that summer (1996) when he was having troubles running through the workouts,'' says Schnur. "To see him go through this battle was unbelievable. It's hard to see this as a 20-year-old. You think everyone around you is invincible.

"He was a huge part of the chemistry of our team. If we had a few more Matt Hartls around we would have been unstoppable. He came back in '97 and tried to play with one lung. It's sickening to see what this disease can do to someone, but he fought to the very end.''

"Matt was a man of few words, but he was a warrior for our team,'' says Bates. "He came back after surgery and did the endurance test -- 15 100s in 15 seconds or less. He did that with one lung and it sent a message to a lot of guys. Seeing that not only changed my life individually, but it made us stronger as a team.''

The way Matt Hartl battled on and off the field left a lasting impression on the Northwestern community. To make sure his legacy was not forgotten, a plaque bearing his name was placed just outside the doors of Anderson Hall, the school's athletic headquarters.

To those who knew him, his impact on their lives will never be forgotten.