Football and Me (Professional and Beyond)

A comprehensive memoir of my football journey. Chronicling my time as a professional, and that which lies beyond....

After the end of the year and completely forgetting to set up with the university my graduation information meaning I never got to walk, I turned my attention to the draft. I did some research on agents and signed with Gary Glick, who worked out of Dallas and had plenty of experience working with linemen. Going through the process I was genuinely shocked how many teams showed interest in me despite only really have one year of great production and no real film of me playing center in a live situation. Eventually draft day came, and before the draft had even concluded, I got a call from the Oakland Raiders, offering me a sizable UDFA signing bonus to join their squad. To this day I’m still kind of disbelief it really all happened. Of course every kid dreams of this exact moment, but as they get older 99.99% of them have to accept it as nothing more than a dream and move on with the rest of their lives. I was one of those .01% who got to realize that dream, for however long it was! “How the f*** did I end up here??!?!”

The first time I walked into that Raiders locker room is genuinely one of the few times in my life I've ever been genuinely starstruck. These are the same guys who are out there playing on sundays for a living, some making multi-millions. The surprising thing is that this feeling actually went away quite quickly after working with them day in and day out. You learn that these guys are human beings just like you or me, with their own sets of personalities, emotions, and problems. The aura of invincibility fades. Well, except for Khalil Mack, he’s a freak.

Going into offseason training we learned the hard way that the NFL loves its trials-by-fire. With literally no previous live experience playing at center, I was thrown into the mix at rookie minicamp and essentially tasked with running the whole show. I was just desperate to make sure I got the ball back to the QB, much less actually block my assignment. Absolute pandemonium aside, with repetition came a level of comfort that allowed me to play at an acceptable level. Although the real challenge would come in the form of learning the game at a truly in depth, elite level. The sheer amount of information you have to process and then proceed to physically execute against some of the biggest, strongest, and quickest human beings on the planet is a very intimidating task, especially when you’re relatively new to the position. After a grueling training camp in Napa, California and shortly after our final preseason game, I was called into the general manager’s office. I would be waived initially, but they had wanted me back on the team’s practice squad. I was in complete disbelief, and I don’t think it really truly hit me until that first game week check hit my bank account a week and a half later. I am getting paid to play this game for a LIVING.

This year in Oakland was easily the most fun I’d ever have in my life. Not even Bay Area housing costs could put a significant enough damper on my excitement finally being out in the world on my own with my own money. Witnessing firsthand the grind of an NFL season and managing to contribute in my own way gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment that I felt had eluded me for the entirety of my life. I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better atmosphere than the group of guys we had who were more than willing to show a fledgling rookie like me the rope and what it took to excel in this business.

Emphasis on the word “business” here, as I would quickly learn the full weight of what that would mean. I mentioned earlier about how college football was a dog eat dog, zero sum game, The NFL is no different. Except in college even if you did end up on the losing side, unless you really screwed up and got your scholarship revoked, you were at least guaranteed four years. There is no such safety net in the NFL, especially if you’re not a highly touted draft pick with a multimillion dollar signing bonus stashed in the bank. This was especially true for UDFAs like me. There were numerous nicknames for people like us, “camp bodies” and “human debris” being just a couple of them. There are hundreds upon hundreds of others, both new blood from the college ranks and veterans trying to find their way back in the game hoping for a chance to show that they’re more than just another guy off the streets. The search for superior talent and the next big thing is a 24/7 deal, and if you slip up, you could easily find yourself teamless with zero promise of getting that next opportunity. Something I would experience on my own very soon…

Going into my 2nd year in Oakland, I had far more confidence in my ability in terms of both being able to seamlessly transition between center/guard and my general knowledge of the game after scrambling to just not embarrass myself as a rookie essentially learning on the fly. More experience brings higher expectations and an even tighter margin for error however, with a new batch of players both young and old gunning to make the team. After another tight training camp battle, I was eventually called back into the same GM office where I had one of my childhood dreams realized, just to have it ruthlessly dashed. I was gonna be cut with no intention to be resigned like before.

Ultimately, it’s just a part of the business. Almost every single person who has played in the NFL has been cut at one point or another. This is especially unsurprising as someone who came into the league under my circumstances as an UDFA trying to see if he could learn an entirely new position on the fly. That didn’t make it hurt any less though, I was borderline catatonic for a couple of days after I had flown back home to Dallas. At that point all I could do was stay in shape and hope for another call sooner or later. Luckily after about a month and a couple other workouts with teams I had signed with Jacksonville, happy I had finally been given another chance. Only to find out a mere four days later that I was being cut AGAIN. This was the reality of professional football for guys on the fringe like me hitting like a sack of bricks. The sheer uncertainty of it all is overwhelming and not something everyone can cope with. Even when you manage to get another shot, you can find yourself peeking over your shoulder hoping the reaper isn’t calling your name next. Another couple of months passed and I had to seriously start to consider if I wanted to continue playing football. Suddenly after I had underwent a series of job interviews, Cincinnati called and wanted to sign me through the end of the year with a couple weeks left in the season. Thankfully I could breathe something resembling a sigh of relief.

That following off-season was the hardest I had trained to date, knowing how tenuous my situation had been the past year. Outside of a trip to the Super Bowl in Minneapolis I stayed at home in Dallas and focused solely on training with no other distractions. I wanted to go into the off-season training program in the best shape I’d ever been in and prove myself. A mere two and a half weeks into it though, shortly after a rookie mini-camp, I had found out I was being released. On Mother’s Day. Imagine waking up on a day like that and having to explain to your mom how you were coming home because you had just been fired from your job. This game is ruthless and doesn't care what day it is or whatever the hell else is going on in your life at the moment. Although this time I was not quite as sad or angry as I had been in the past. Part of it being general numbness to the process after enduring it a couple times, the other being I wouldn’t wish living in Ohio (technically Kentucky too since it sits on the border) on my worst enemy. No one deserves a fate like that :^).

Once August rolled around, I was fortunate to be signed by the Pittsburgh Steelers throughout training camp. While my time there was relatively brief and again I failed to make it past final cuts, one of the most impactful interactions I had with anyone in the NFL came with head coach Mike Tomlin. He had zero reason to have a deeper, meaningful exit interview with some replaceable camp body he’d likely never see again, and yet he did anyway. He asked about my journey to this point and was very upfront with how they just didn’t believe they had enough time to evaluate me on such short notice. The biggest things that stuck with me from that conversation were that my skill set was very coveted at this level of play, and that I shouldn’t let this dream go until you’re absolutely sure you’re ready to turn the page, because once you take that step out the door, it’s almost certainly final.

Afterwards, my agent Gary had informed me of a new startup spring league called the Alliance of American Football and that the pay was about comparable to what I had made as a practice squad player bouncing around the NFL. I figured showcasing what I could do in this league could potentially springboard me back into the league as well as provide enough cash to make it through the year. I put myself up in the initial player pool, got allocated to the Memphis Express, and reported to the preseason mini-camp for it. Little did I know one of the most improbable events of my entire career to this point would happen just shortly after. Taxing back into Dallas from that mini-camp by airplane, I get a frantic slew of texts from Gary saying the Dallas Cowboys wanted to bring me in and sign me to their practice squad to finish out the season. I genuinely thought he was bullshitting me, until that very next morning I drove up to Frisco at 7AM and had the contract signed by noon and practiced the very same day. I remember driving back from practice that day and just sitting in my car in disbelief calling a couple of my best friends just screaming “YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, HOW THE F*** DID I END UP HERE?”. I didn’t even care if I ended up having a repeat of Jacksonville, being a part of your hometown team that your whole family and all of your friends growing up in any capacity was a dream come true. Every single day I was in that building I had a gigantic shit eating grin of happiness. It was utterly surreal being able to drive from the house I grew up in to work a dream job (it also meant I didn’t have to pay rent!). To make it even better I joined shortly before they had clinched a divisional title and even went on to win a playoff game. Those six weeks I was apart of the organization will forever be etched into my being as long as I live.

Shortly after the season’s conclusion, I was released from my contract so I could return to the AAF. Despite only being a part of training camp for a week because of my time with the Cowboys, the brass was impressed enough with what they saw to bring me onboard for the season, even if it would be in a backup role initially. The conditions weren’t always great, our main headquarters was essentially a repurposed abandoned art building that would leak horribly when it would rain, but at the end of the day it was still professional football so I enjoyed it nonetheless. Things went smoothly for at least 8 weeks, until suddenly the league controversially ceased operations out of the blue and essentially left the entirety of league staff high and dry. I had recently suffered a concussion from a game the final weekend of games, but the league’s sudden termination meant our contract with the hotel we were staying at for the course of the season was nulled as well, and I was essentially forced to drive back home 8 hours back to Texas or have to pay hundred of dollars out of pocket to stay any longer, and I was one of the luckier people in regards to this. So once again, I found myself teamless, although this time at least I had made more than enough to survive off for the rest of the year while I planned my next move.

After a few months’ time, Gary had made me aware of yet another startup league, the old XFL was being revived and fresh off the AAF’s collapse were searching for prospective players. After initially a frustrating process with trying to get my name into the pool, I was offered a showcase invite and subsequently added to the player draft pool. Subsequently I was drafted by the Dallas Renegades, yet again I was a part of a team where I could effectively work from home and save money! Months went by and after a short mini-camp we reported to training camp in Houston. Unfortunately, as recently as a couple weeks ago, I found out I hadn’t made the squad. Personally, I feel like the years of wear and tear, combined with my own personal failures on fundamental things like snap mechanics that I likely didn’t focus as hard on since I believed I had gotten it down and could focus on other facets of my game.

Some introspection was needed. At this point, I’m 26 years old on the verge of 27 this June. I’ve been playing pro football in some way shape or form for the past three and a half years. I’ve suffered at least three concussions which have led to a heightened degree of light sensitivity and potentially memory loss. I’ve got two bulging discs in the lumbar portion of my spine I’ve had to get an epidural for. Who knows what else could probably rear its head as I gradually get older and the physical toll the game has taken on my body becomes more and more evident? It hurts to just get out of bed most days and I’m struggling to even make it onto startup league rosters where the pay is gradually less and less to what I’m used to making. I don’t think I’m willing to leave the country in order to pursue opportunities like the Canadian Football League like I might’ve been in the past. Ultimately, all the evidence was piling up in one direction, and Coach Tomlin’s words from the past year rang in my head. “Don’t let this dream go until you’re absolutely sure you’re ready to turn the page, because once you take that step out the door, it’s almost certainly final.”

The reality of professional football is that you are essentially pressing pause on the rest of your life. If you’re making six figures plus year in and year out, this isn’t quite as problematic as used wisely you can easily live off that while you transition into whatever you want to do. The calculus is a bit different when outside of year one, you’ve been sporadically on and off rosters not exactly sure when your next paycheck might be. It was a constant back and forth in my mind between facing more of this crippling uncertainty and the unenviable truth that if I did hang it up, I’m an adult with virtually no real professional work experience outside of football. After about a week or so of thought I finally came to a decision: I’m done.

I just couldn't do it anymore. Of course I find it difficult to come to grips with the fact that the game I've played for more than two decades and was extremely fortunate to play for even this long was finally starting to pass me by. Of course I still think that I could play if I was given the opportunity. Ultimately though, the decision came squarely down to my own personal agency and playing the numbers. My career in football at this stage, like it or not, was on a downward trend, and the amount of opportunities I could potentially be given, not even including if it was financially lucrative or not, was shrinking rapidly. Yes, taking the plunge into the real world and beginning life after football would be essentially starting over, but I would have to take that plunge regardless, so why delay the inevitable? Even if the specific physical skills I've amassed for the past 20 years may not be directly transferable to whatever line of work I choose to pursue next, the mental, intangible facets such as discipline, communication, leadership, and attitudes would work as a springboard of success applied properly and hopefully potential future employers would see things that way as well. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gonna miss it, and my head and my heart have never been more at odds with each other, but long term I just know in my gut that it's just time.

I'd be lying to you if I tried to claim the only reason I even got this much out of the game was because of my own hard work, even if it is absolutely one of the bare minimum requirements to even have a chance to succeed, not into just this game but life in general. What if I hadn't been born into a relatively stable family situation? What if I hadn't miraculously transcended my short parents (okay, mostly my dad) genes and grew to be 6'3 and be an ideal physical fit for this career? What if I hadn't ever had that conversation with Coach McBride? What if I was stubborn and hadn't seriously considered Coach Blaney proposition of trying to play center to improve my professional prospects? There are so many inflection points across my life where things could've easily gone differently and the course of my life would've been altered, likely for the worst. I was extremely blessed by God that these people were put in my life for a clear purpose to guide, and at the same time it leaves me in awe when I think of all the other fantastic guys I've met over the years in this profession who managed to succeed even in spite of not having the incredible fortune I've had to this point. Another casual reminder that you really aren't shit and have zero reason to let your circumstances define you.

This game has given me an incredible amount, both in terms of things physically tangible like a fully paid collegiate education, as well as critical mental skills like work ethic, mental fortitude, and a sense of purpose. The cruel reality is that everybody who loves the game like I do has to face the day they can no longer play it for anything more than recreation, I'm just one of the lucky ones who managed a temporary stay of execution. When the guillotine falls on your neck, and you reincarnate into the next phase of your life, all you can do is look back and be thankful for what you did get to experience before passing on. There's still so much more left in this world for me to discover, and odds are it won't always be easy. I just have to take what I've learned, and have the courage to take that first step into the abyss, knowing that I'm never alone.

(Part 3 of 3. END)