It was exhausting. But I kept focusing on the things we did have, which included a strong family. I wanted to do everything I could to keep our household as steady as it could be. In a way, I was trying to fill the role that my mom had handled for so many years without a single word of complaint.
My mom’s battle with cancer gave me a valuable new perspective. There she was, a shell of her former self, fighting every day for her life but all the while focused on making sure her family was safe and taken care of. She wanted our lives to be as normal as possible under painful, anxious circumstances.
I had a great deal on my plate. I grew tired of school, the demands of football, and having to deal with an ill parent while my peers were free to just be high school kids. I was envious of the freedom they seemed to take for granted.
But then I would think about my mom and how hard she had worked for so many years to provide for our family and to give us a better life. While I was complaining about watching film or studying a playbook, she was off in Atlanta fighting the toughest battle of her life—all the while displaying a level of strength that I never thought anyone could have. When I started to feel sorry for myself, I’d remember her and what she was enduring. The pity party ended quickly every single time.
I came to see my mom in a completely different light. Sure, I’d always known how much she had sacrificed while we were growing up, but her illness gave me a genuine sense of the way she had led our family, both when she was well and when the cancer ripped through her body. She knew what she had to do as our matriarch because she knew just what we needed.
This brings me to another way I learned early on to focus on what I had instead of what I didn’t have. As I already mentioned, I’ve only seen my father a few times. Even though I tried not to let it get to me, it was painful not having a father around. All my friends had fathers. At times it seemed unfair and even cruel to be the exception to the rule. Again, I was envious of others who had someone in their lives that I did not. Even those friends whose parents were divorced or separated had both a mother and a father—granted, two people who might not have been living together anymore, but still two parents. I felt cheated.
My mom’s example helped me get past that mindset. Instead of wishing for something that simply wasn’t going to happen, I looked to my mom as the adult I was going to rely on, the person I’d always focus on. She was there, doing everything she could for our family, and my father was somewhere else. I had to bend and adapt to that reality instead of wishing things were different because they never were going to be.
I was blessed with father figures who stepped up and lent their advice, strength, and encouragement—people like Coach Michael Perry and Jack Waldrip, whom you’ll read about in the next chapter. If my dad had been around, I don’t know that I would have developed relationships with these men, and I can’t imagine not having them in my life. In some ways, I think I was actually better off not having my dad compared to some of my teammates whose fathers were present but caused pain in other ways. Instead, my mom stepped in to be basically my mother and father.
That, among other reasons, is why I refer to my mom as my rock. Her steadiness and strength have always stood out. She is the reason I try to be grateful for the things that are going right in my life instead of worrying about the things that aren’t. Her optimism and strength inspire me to try to model her positivity, and I hope they will inspire you to do so as well.
PASS IT ON
•Consider the last time you took part in some sort of activity or service that benefited others. Think about how your participation helped improve other people’s lives or advance a cause. What can you do in the future to replicate that experience? Can you position yourself to take part in something of even greater importance?
•It’s so easy to get caught up worrying about the things you don’t have. Take some time to make a list of all the things you do have and are grateful for. Take it a step further and reach out to the people who have supported you and shared with you to thank them.
•Take one day to pay specific attention to how you put others first. At the end of the day, write down how many examples you can recall. The next day, see if you can add to the list. Keep going, and record your growth in your willingness to put others ahead of yourself.
YOUR CHALLENGE
Find an organization or charity that supports your ideals and beliefs, and reach out to see how you can become involved with what that group is doing. If you’re in a place to give financially, give generously, but giving of your time is just as important and can have lasting rewards.
CHAPTER 3
PREPARE FOR SUCCESS
High school is always an important time in life, and although I wouldn’t necessarily label my high school years as the most enjoyable, they were certainly memorable.
During those years I did a lot of learning in classrooms, on the football field, and at home, and that learning helped me understand that success is all about preparation. If you want to succeed, you have to know what you want to achieve and put in the work ahead of time to get there. I started to grasp this lesson even before I had my first day as a high school student.
I spent the summer before my freshman year of high school working as a ball boy at the Atlanta Falcons’ practice facility, which was just ten minutes away from my home. I got the job through the Boys & Girls Club in Gainesville. At my mom’s encouragement, I’d begun attending the Boys & Girls Club when I was seven. In addition to sports, I really enjoyed the Passport to Manhood program that allowed me and my friends to discuss our goals and challenges in an open and frank manner.
That summer I was one of a few high school students chosen to take part in the ball boy program, which was started by Falcons owner Arthur Blank. As a ball boy, I picked up footballs during practice, took care of the team’s equipment, and folded towels. Anything that the players needed, we ball boys took care of.
It was an incredible experience, and being a ball boy helped me see up close what was possible for my future if I remained determined and focused on my goals.
It didn’t hurt that the job had some surprising financial benefits. One time cornerback Asante Samuel forgot his mouthpiece in the locker room and asked me to get it for him. When I walked by his locker after practice, he pulled out this Louis Vuitton bag and gave me a $1,000 tip—just for getting his mouthpiece. He didn’t have to give me anything, but he did. It was a real lesson on how to treat others and the importance of generosity, but particularly on showing generosity to those who will genuinely appreciate the spirit behind it.
* * *
BEING A BALL BOY HELPED ME SEE UP CLOSE WHAT WAS POSSIBLE FOR MY FUTURE IF I REMAINED DETERMINED AND FOCUSED ON MY GOALS.
* * *
I got to see how the players worked together as a team and the unity and bonding that were important parts of that. I was also lucky enough to become close with several of the players. I played catch with wide receiver Julio Jones and quarterback Matt Ryan. Although it was an informal thing, I took the time to watch these two consummate pros while we played. I noted the various angles that Matt used when throwing the ball and the position of his arm. I studied Julio and how he watched every single ball come into his hands. Even in the most casual game of catch, he was working on a consistent, reliable style of catching.
On a more organized level, the team had me take part by throwing to some of the wide receivers as part of their drills. I hit most every receiver squarely between the numbers, but I would really tense up when throwing to the starters. My throws to them betrayed the nerves I felt.
That was more than enough reason for some of the players to start giving me a hard time. Wide receiver Roddy White kidded me about being the star young quarterback who had a habit of throwing balls into the ground.
“How you supposed to be that good and you throwing bad balls?” Roddy asked me.
“You guys make me nervous,” I replied with complete honesty.
Roddy looked at m
e in surprise. “Nervous? We’re at practice.”
“It’s different throwing to high school players and throwing to you guys,” I answered. With that, Roddy smiled ever so slightly. He could see how a kid could be intimated by being around gifted professionals. He let up on his ribbing, but only just a little bit.
Even though the players gave me a hard time for tightening up, I did well enough that I was asked back by the Falcons each year I was in high school. But the players continued to get on to me, although in an obviously friendly way.
Sometimes the guys would rib me about how quiet I was. Roddy once asked me, “If you never talk, how are people supposed to know who you are?”
“I’m just out here on the grind,” I replied immediately.
Even though I was just one of a number of ball boys, Roddy made me feel like part of the team. He encouraged a feeling of belonging, and I appreciated it.
This was a lesson in leadership. Roddy clearly understood the importance of inclusion, of making certain that everyone associated with the team felt like they were a part of something bigger. Great leaders are like that. They never want others to feel as though they don’t belong. If that’s the case, a leader works to address that.
My ball boy experience helped prepare me for what was to come by giving me a glimpse of what the life of an NFL player was like. I knew that I wanted to play in the NFL, and once I knew what I was striving for, I could take the steps needed to get there.
* * *
MY BALL BOY EXPERIENCE HELPED PREPARE ME FOR WHAT WAS TO COME BY GIVING ME A GLIMPSE OF WHAT THE LIFE OF AN NFL PLAYER WAS LIKE.
* * *
That’s why I took every opportunity to pay close attention to the details and specifics of practice. I studied various players’ routines—when they arrived for practice, what regimen they followed, how their level of focus could shift depending on what they were working on each day. I also began to notice how certain players approached practice differently than others. They’d show up early, and they continued working on certain skills long after others had headed out the door. Their level of commitment and preparation truly stood out.
Athletics continued to fill much of my time once I became a student at Gainesville High School. I made the football team as a quarterback—luckily for me, not just any quarterback. My work ethic, attitude, and performance (I completed twenty-two out of twenty-five passes during my very first scrimmage) so impressed head coach Bruce Miller that he chose me as the starter, beating out a junior with two years’ experience. At just fourteen years old, I was only the third freshman quarterback Coach Miller had ever started. All that play on the streets and fields of Gainesville was starting to pay off. I was humbled, but being as young as I was, also a bit intimidated.
My role as starting quarterback allowed me to pursue what was fast becoming an outright love of learning. I studied and prepared for every game just as much as I studied and prepared for my classes. I have always been like this. Childhood friends still recall how I would map out plays when we were playing football. I’d grab a stick and outline passing routes—down here ten feet, then cut left, that sort of thing. Many of my friends would just shake their heads in bewilderment as they tried to follow my ideas. If nothing else, my love of preparation taught me an early lesson about the value of clear communication for everyone involved.
* * *
MY ROLE AS STARTING QUARTERBACK ALLOWED ME TO PURSUE WHAT WAS FAST BECOMING AN OUTRIGHT LOVE OF LEARNING. I STUDIED AND PREPARED FOR EVERY GAME JUST AS MUCH AS I STUDIED AND PREPARED FOR MY CLASSES.
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Fortunately, Coach Miller’s confidence in me was justified. Our team had one of the best records in its history that year, with ten wins and just two losses. I also had a solid season, throwing for more than 2,000 yards with seventeen touchdown passes and rushing for an additional 569 yards. I also scored five touchdowns on the ground. In fact, my season was so solid that several Division 1 college football programs began to express an interest in me.
During my freshman season, the upperclassmen on the team started calling me “Rookie.” At first they were just trying to give me a hard time, but the nickname eventually stuck as their way of telling me that I belonged. I was one of them—a realization that made me work harder to live up to their confidence. Like Roddy White of the Atlanta Falcons, they knew how essential it was to foster a sense of team in which nobody was left out or made to feel less important.
My education continued off the field as well. One day during my freshman year, I found a twenty-dollar bill lying on the ground outside of the high school. Unsure what to do, I brought the money to Coach Miller. He stuffed the bill into his desk drawer. A few weeks later, as nobody else had claimed it, Coach said the money was mine. Even as I put the money in my pocket, I couldn’t help but think of the person who had lost that twenty dollars. I was happy to have the extra cash but felt badly for the person whose loss was my gain. I knew I would never want to benefit at someone else’s expense.
At the beginning of my sophomore year, I met a man who literally changed my life—Michael Perry, the team’s recently hired quarterbacks coach.
Having watched me my freshman year, Coach Perry said he had all the confidence in the world about my talent. What I needed was a work ethic every bit as strong. He made me understand that talent without an accompanying work ethic is only half the formula for success—and one without the other can only compromise your efforts.
As I like to say, Coach Perry’s secret was that he didn’t have a secret, some magical, mystical methodology to take ability and mold it into all that it could be. He just made me work my butt off. Simple as that. And the payoff went far beyond winning on the football field.
* * *
TALENT WITHOUT AN ACCOMPANYING WORK ETHIC IS ONLY HALF THE FORMULA FOR SUCCESS—AND ONE WITHOUT THE OTHER CAN ONLY COMPROMISE YOUR EFFORTS.
* * *
Coach Perry was the first to help me see that success of any kind is the result of focus, effort, and, especially, exhaustive preparation. His ability to convey that message to me and other teenagers was particularly remarkable. If you’re coaching eighteen- or nineteen-year-olds, the value of intensive study and preparation can easily fall on deaf ears. To Coach’s credit, he was able to impress on us not only the value of preparation in terms of football but that those habits would benefit us for the rest of our lives. That’s a big idea for teens to get their heads around, but Coach got it across to us.
To that end, Coach Perry started by giving me an enormous notebook of plays and defensive schemes. He instructed me to commit every detail to memory. I spent hours studying that book, making sure I absorbed everything it could teach me.
Then there was film work. That’s an element of preparation I’ve come to realize is as important as any in a player’s development. For those of you who have never done it, film work is essentially sitting in front of a screen and watching a video of a game, reviewing every play, often in slow motion, over and over. You look for what you did right and what you can improve on. You also watch other players, studying the workings of teams you’re going to be up against and trying to figure out what plays they might try to use against you.
For me, film work is beneficial on so many levels. You can review a particular play over and over until you learn as much as you can. On the football field, things happen way too fast for that kind of study or reflection to be possible.
I believe film study is what separates the good players from the great ones. That’s because, to be honest, film work can be pure drudgery. It’s boring and repetitive. For athletes used to having their bodies in motion, sitting and staring at a screen for hours on end is borderline torture. Although technologies such as laptops and tablets make the process go faster, for lots of players, film study is a chore, pure and simple. They’d rather be playing, not watching.
I take a different approach. For me, film study represents an enormous opportunity to improve, to take what time I need to bre
ak down the specifics of my play and that of others. It appeals to the student in me; film work makes you that much more prepared when the time comes to perform.
* * *
I BELIEVE FILM STUDY IS WHAT SEPARATES THE GOOD PLAYERS FROM THE GREAT ONES.
* * *
It also gets back to a point I raised earlier about the importance of balancing athletics with classroom work. As I mentioned, athletes who aren’t students often fail to reach their full potential as players and people. Film study lets an athlete leverage the student inside to improve physical and mental performance.
Although every player approaches film study differently, I’ve always tried to cover certain factors, including:
Reading coverage: I look to see what sort of defense cover schemes other teams are running so I know what routes my receivers should be running and where I should be throwing the ball.
Understanding defensive fronts: How the opposing defense lines up determines blocking responsibilities.
Identifying blitzes: I look for signs and tendencies of a blitz where the defense commits additional players to rushing the quarterback. Receivers may run “hot” or short routes if a blitz occurs; alternatively, running backs may have to stay in the backfield to strengthen pass protection.
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