Raised by Olympians, Built by Grit: Miami Hurricanes commit Jackson Cantwell’s Rise to No. 1

For Teri Steer and Christian Cantwell, track and field wasn’t a dream as much as it was a ticket: out of small towns, into college, toward something better. They had no blueprint, no spotlight, no promises back in the early days of this century. Only talent, grit, and a refusal to waste either. Nothing given, and everything earned.

Teri and Christian each made it to the pinnacle of their sport as shot putters, competing in the 2000 (Teri) and 2008 (Christian) Olympic Games for the United States, and then their paths led them to date and get married.

And there they were nearly two decades ago, two kids from Missouri and Nebraska, creating a new kind of playground for a young son.

They brought Little Jackson Cantwell everywhere; from the track, to the weight room, long before he knew what any of it meant. The young boy waddled around the local indoor track club, observing and mimicking his parents. As soon as he was able, he grabbed his toddler walker and raced around the track after the college athletes, determined to keep up as best as his little legs could.

And for the Cantwells, it was never about raising the next star. It was about sharing what they loved, the way only two people who fought for everything they earned could. To Jackson, Teri and Christian Cantwell were just “Mom” and “Dad,” not Olympic greats.

Now, that toddler chasing college runners has become one of the most formidable young athletes in the country. At just 17 years old, Jackson Cantwell stands 6-foot-7 and 315 pounds. A five-star, No. 1 football recruit in the class of 2026, this offensive tackle is committed to the Miami Hurricanes. 

Cantwell doesn’t just dominate in the trenches. He’s also a Missouri state record holder in the shot put, a feat he’s accomplished more than once– beating a record he set himself this past May with a 76 foot throw in the Missouri state championships. This throw reset the national high for the fourth time this season, climbed to the No. 3 farthest high school throw in U.S. history, and fell just one centimeter shy of Michael Carter’s 1979 all-time high school record.

But he won’t take all the credit for his accomplishments. 

“[My parents] instilled the value of hard work in me and not quitting on something, and having pride in what you do,” Jackson said. 

Thankful for it all.

Back to back.#NSGB #GatoradePOY pic.twitter.com/dk8bdCPZTu

— Jackson Cantwell (@jcantwell2499) June 25, 2025

The foundation may have been built early, but where he’s heading now is the result of far more than just genetics.

On May 27, 2008, the Cantwells welcomed Jackson into the world, not knowing who he’d become, an athlete making a name for himself by the time he could drive, now set to make millions of dollars in Name, Image and Likeness money combined with the  new revenue sharing dollars of college football before he even turns 20. 

But before Jackson Cantwell’s name landed on state records or recruiting lists, the spotlight shone squarely on his parents: Olympians, national champions, Hall of Famers, and legends in their own right. And their journeys to athletic excellence could not have been more different from their son’s.

“It was a way for me to get out of my town and go to school, you know, and my parents couldn’t afford to send me to college,” Christian said of his shot put throwing career which extended several years after his Olympic appearance. “That sort of pressure’s a heck of a motivator.”

The youngest of nine siblings raised outside Springfield, Missouri, Christian didn’t set out to be a shot-put star. Football was his first love until an ACL injury in 1998 rerouted his plans. 

Track and field wasn’t his dream just yet, but it became his purpose. And he approached it with relentless determination, not because he loved it, but because he needed it.

My mentality was: dive in feet first, and put every fiber of my being into it, and just get as good as I could,” he said. “You know, you end up liking things when you get good at them.”

He didn’t yet know just how far “good” would take him, or that it was more than a ticket to the University of Missouri. He’d go on to have an unprecedentedly long career of 15 years, during which he’d win silver for the United States at the 2008 Olympics in the shot put, gold at the IAAF World Championships in 2009 and Indoor World Championships in 2004, 2008 and 2010, and have his name etched in his alma mater’s Hall of Fame.

Somewhere along the way, he’d also meet his lifelong teammate.

By the time Christian was coming into his own, Teri Steer had already made history.

Five years Christian’s senior, the Nebraska native had dominated collegiate throwing, winning two NCAA shot put titles and earning eight All-American honors. Her resume only grew from there, as a three-time USATF National Champion and a member of the 2000 U.S. Olympic team; accolades that cemented her legacy, now forever enshrined in the Southern Methodist University Hall of Fame.

She hadn’t yet met Christian, but he had already made up his mind what he wanted..

“He actually had told someone before I met him that he was going to marry me,” Teri said. And as if he spoke it into existence, Teri and Christian soon became The Cantwells.

Well, what happens when two Olympians fall in love?

In this case, you get Jackson Cantwell—an athlete carrying not just his own legacy, but the weight of the two that came before him.

Before football, before track, before national headlines, Jackson was just a kid trying a little bit of everything. At five years old, Teri signed him up for tee-ball, and called her husband to share the news. Christian, constantly away competing in track meets, was hesitant. Years of athletic grind had shaped his discernment and skepticism: He didn’t want that pressure for his son, especially if he wouldn’t be able to physically be there to support him.

“I know how hard it is,” Christian said. “I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on him, you know?”

You would think the Olympians would want their son to be just like them, but the Cantwells just wanted Jackson to have fun. What they didn’t want was for him to lose his joy for sports under pressure, a feeling they knew all too well as world-class athletes. .

But for Jackson, sports weren’t an unwelcome pressure. He was a natural-born competitor, and he was never one to back down from a challenge.

Throwing came naturally. Basketball excited him. Baseball and football gave him range. He was curious, competitive, and, almost effortlessly, gifted.

“We didn’t put the pressure on him to throw or be the best. However, I think he just always had it,” Teri said. “I saw him win his first national at age eight in the shot put… it was a very prideful moment, that he was doing a sport that I love so much.”

He excelled at nearly everything.

Well, everything but football.

“He was good, but he wasn’t great, you know?” Christian said, recalling Jackson at 13, ready to quit football for good.

He decided there would be one more year of pads and cleats, then it would be basketball, track, and baseball – no more Friday Night Lights.

“I told him, ‘you could be elite in football,’” Christian said. “I think he thought at the time that I was an idiot.”

But in the Cantwell household, belief isn’t passive. It’s backed by action.

With his parents’ support, Jackson leaned in. He put in the work. What started as doubt blossomed into devotion – slowly, and then all at once. He made his varsity debut as a timid freshman substitute on a cool Friday night in Missouri, and never looked back.

“He loves football because it’s his own path,” Teri said.

And now that path is leading him to the University of Miami, where his parents support him to continue a legacy, but more importantly, support him to forge his own.

Just as Christian and Teri never chased glory for themselves, they never asked Jackson to follow in their footsteps. They raised him to lead with character, not accolades. They raised him to work hard, stay grounded, and embrace the community around him.

They are two unsung heroes, Olympians who built something far more enduring than records or medals. They laid the foundation through love and support for their son to go be great, too. They gave him the space to dream, the tools to work, and the belief that greatness isn’t inherited, that it’s earned.

“They have made me who I am today,” Jackson Cantwell said.