Pinpointing and correcting mistakes: Film lets you watch when you mess up and discover what you can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
How many hours have I spent looking at film? Frankly, I’ve lost count. The more film time I put in, the better prepared I am. I don’t think there’s even such a thing as too much film time. When it comes to time spent in the film room, I stopped looking at my watch long ago. Its value goes way beyond minutes and seconds spent.
Studying film has helped me improve my own play, and it has given me the opportunity to study my teammates’ play as well. That allows me the chance to offer feedback and suggestions so our entire team can improve.
My time with Coach Perry was grueling at first. I would arrive at school at 7:00 a.m. Coach Perry and I would have sausage biscuit sandwiches for breakfast, courtesy of the nearby Longstreet Cafe, then turn on the projector for a solid two hours. Head coach Miller started calling me a “film hound,” someone who goes hunting for new film, who can’t get enough of it. I studied great college quarterbacks as well as NFL icons like Peyton Manning and Tom Brady. Watching them perform over and over, I broke down their ability to do what they did and tried my best to make it work for me as well.
This went on both during the school year and over summer break, for four or sometimes five days a week. That was our routine, and it never varied. When school was in session, I’d head off to a full day of classes after our film study. Later on I’d go to Coach Perry’s home, where he would quiz me on everything from offensive strategies to audibles to defensive formations. Then it was back home to do my schoolwork and prepare for the next day.
When I met Coach Perry, I was a football player. He turned me into a quarterback, a real student of the game who not only executes on the field but is capable of being involved in play calling and overall strategy. He helped me become a more complete player, both physically and mentally.
Coach Perry was more than just a coach to me. He made sure I focused on my schoolwork, that athletics never got in the way of academic performance. He constantly asked me if I was getting my homework done and how my grades were. He wanted to know which subjects I enjoyed the most and which ones I found more challenging. Like others had, he strengthened the bond between my schoolwork and athletics.
* * *
WHEN I MET COACH PERRY, I WAS A FOOTBALL PLAYER. HE TURNED ME INTO A QUARTERBACK.
* * *
He also helped me move closer to God. He taught me what it meant to be a true man, a person of character and humility. He taught me the value of putting others before yourself. He was a father figure to me, something I’d never had growing up.
Happily, Coach Perry was not the only person I looked to as a father figure. It was about this time that I met Jack Waldrip. A local real estate broker, Jack was heavily involved in the local Boys & Girls Club.
The outreach coordinator at the club kept trying to convince Jack that two teenagers would benefit from meeting and getting to know him. Jack, a sixty-some-year-old white man who had just undergone bypass surgery, was doubtful he would connect with two young African American boys. Since we were football players, Jack assumed that we might communicate better with someone younger, someone perhaps a bit closer to the game. But the people at the Boys & Girls Club as well as Jack’s wife, Violet, continued to urge him to give the introduction a try.
Finally, Jack said okay. And, fortunately for me, I was one of those two young boys.
One day my friend Fred Payne, a defensive player who was outgoing and always talking, and I pulled in to Jack’s driveway.
Of course, Fred started talking with Jack almost immediately while I hung in the background, quiet and shy as always. Eventually, though, Jack introduced himself, shook my hand, and we began talking.
We bonded almost instantly.
Jack has been a major force in my life ever since. We’ve spent a lot of Christmases together. He gave me lifts to the airport. He helped me celebrate major victories in my life and consoled me during times of trial. Jack even went so far as to name his dog Watson. What greater honor could a young man ask for?
The support of both of these men helped prepare me mentally and emotionally for the road ahead. At the end of my freshman year of high school, the legendary Coach Dabo Swinney at Clemson University reached out to me. He said he had known of me for the better part of a year and had come to appreciate my talent as well as my coachability. He then offered me a full scholarship to Clemson. I knew that this meant getting a college education without having to go into debt or needing my mom to pay a dime toward my degree, not to mention a genuine shot at making it to the NFL.
Naturally, I had heard of Coach Swinney well before this. He had been at Clemson since 2003, trying to boost a program in the ultra-competitive Atlantic Coast Conference (ACC). In fact, that was one of the most intriguing parts of his interest in me—I wanted to join a team that was looking to rise amid grueling competition, not just some powerhouse comfortably atop a so-so conference. The challenge appealed to me, as did the man trying to make it all happen.
His was an amazing and flattering offer. It was many things: thrilling, humbling, and a bit overwhelming. But what really won me over to Clemson was a promise from Coach Swinney. If I agreed to attend Clemson, he said, he would not recruit a quarterback the following year. His plan was to build the program around me.
At first I was a bit skeptical. Right, I told myself, I’m sure I’m going to hear the same line from every coach hoping to lure me to his school. They were all full of great promises.
* * *
I WANTED TO JOIN A TEAM THAT WAS LOOKING TO RISE AMID GRUELING COMPETITION, NOT JUST SOME POWERHOUSE COMFORTABLY ATOP A SO-SO CONFERENCE.
* * *
But another thing I was beginning to learn was to trust the vibe I was feeling from someone else. I was gaining confidence in recognizing the energy that others give off. You can’t put your finger on it or necessarily describe it to others, but it’s there. I was learning to trust my gut, as you should learn to trust your own. It’s rarely wrong.
Coach Swinney had vibes to spare. When he said something while looking you squarely in the eye, you just knew that he meant what he said and that he would do everything possible to make it happen. What I heard didn’t carry a shred of doubt or uncertainty.
Coach Swinney’s position of leadership was crystal clear. As I came to appreciate later, he led with absolute clarity and honesty. If you did something well, he’d congratulate you. If you messed up, he’d critique you in an equally blunt manner. He never wanted even the least bit of confusion in anyone’s mind about what he was saying and why he was saying it. That drew me to him.
So, after thinking about it and praying for guidance, I committed to Clemson—one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I made another good decision shortly thereafter.
Since my classroom and football experiences underscored the importance of preparation, it occurred to me that now might be an ideal time to do a little planning and preparation for what I wanted to achieve over the next several years.
I took out a piece of notebook paper and began to write. Thinking as I went along, I considered what sorts of major goals I wanted to achieve now that one of the first, biggest steps—committing to a major college football program—had been completed.
* * *
AFTER THINKING ABOUT IT AND PRAYING FOR GUIDANCE, I COMMITTED TO CLEMSON—ONE OF THE BEST DECISIONS I’VE EVER MADE.
* * *
I wrote slowly:
•Win an ACC Championship
•Win a national championship
•Win the Heisman Trophy
•Graduate from Clemson within three years
•Move on to play in the NFL
That piece of paper is still in my childhood home. It means far too much to me to ever lose track of it. And seeing my goals spelled out like that gave me a plan and set me up to work as hard as it took to achieve them.
But the decision to eventually
attend Clemson in no way clouded my commitment to Gainesville High School. During my high school career, I set numerous Georgia state football records, including total yards (17,134), total touchdowns (218), career passing yards (13,077), and career passing touchdowns (155). I also rushed for 4,057 yards and sixty-three touchdowns.
More important, the team enjoyed great success. In addition to advancing to the state semifinals twice, we won the overall state title my junior year, beating Ware County 49–13 in the title game. I remember the bus ride home from the Georgia Dome. With highway patrol escorting the bus into Gainesville city limits, sirens filled the air. We arrived back at the high school well after midnight. Still, hundreds of fans were waiting to greet us and share in our joy and achievement. For me, the experience showed just how much our team meant to the community, how our success was theirs as well.
This came on the heels of the wild celebration that took place on the field after the game itself. As people charged from the stands onto the playing field, Coach Miller and the team’s seniors gathered on a small stage to accept the championship trophy. At the time, I was standing next to Coach Miller’s wife.
“Deshaun, you need to be up there,” she told me, motioning toward the stage. “You’re the reason we won this thing.”
I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not my turn,” I replied.
At first she had a look of complete shock on her face. Then, bit by bit, she started to smile. She understood completely how I felt and what I was trying to say.
As a servant leader looking to continually grow, I realized I had more to achieve. However wonderful it was to win the state championship, this was just one of my goals. Plus, I was not yet a senior, and the stage was occupied only by seniors. I knew my time would come. This was theirs.
The next fall I graduated from high school early. I wanted to be on Clemson’s campus as soon as I could to take part in spring workouts, since I knew that the more practice time I had with this new team, the more ready I would be when it came time to play my first game.
* * *
AS A SERVANT LEADER LOOKING TO CONTINUALLY GROW, I REALIZED I HAD MORE TO ACHIEVE.
* * *
I firmly believe that preparation is one of the most important tools for success. Preparation makes me better positioned to succeed on the field, and it also occupies my mind as I get ready for a game. It’s a way for me to chill, and, once I’m on the field, preparation allows my instincts to kick in and take over.
In that sense, preparation allows me to relax. Then, once it’s time to perform, I’m physically and mentally at my peak to excel.
PASS IT ON
•Consider the last time you had to prepare for something important—a test, a presentation, a speech, anything you can remember. How did you go about preparing for it? Was there any method to how you prepared? What was the outcome? Were you pleased or disappointed with the results?
•Have you ever made a list of your goals? Take the time to come up with a list of things you want to accomplish—that’s the first step toward making them happen. I encourage you to consider short-term goals (one year or less) as well as five- and ten-year goals.
•For me, film study is as much about reviewing my own mistakes as it is learning about other players. Do you ever take the time to review your own performance and think about how you can improve? Ask for feedback from your peers, or find a way to review your wins and losses and think about how you can improve next time.
YOUR CHALLENGE
The next time you prepare for something important, pay as much attention to your preparation as to what you’re preparing for. Think about the steps you need to take, and write them down. Then, when you think you’re ready, take a bit more time to prepare even more. Record the results and determine if the extra bit of preparation made a difference.
CHAPTER 4
YOUR WORD IS YOUR OATH
Because I committed to Clemson so far in advance of graduating from high school, my decision stirred up a bit of anxiety and, to be blunt, outright gossip.
Deshaun Watson says he’s going to Clemson, but what is he doing spending a weekend at Auburn? How many other schools are trying to lure him away, tempting him to back off from his dedication? There must be some school out there that’s making a better offer!
That sort of chatter continued even after I began my Clemson career and we captured a national championship. After we won the national title, I remember seeing a blog that repeatedly asked how I had ended up at Clemson. Where were the Georgia Bulldogs when this kid was available? How about in-state rival South Carolina? Who else was asleep at the switch?
It’s all kind of funny now, but the experience showed me what dedication is all about in an environment of doubt and speculation. Here, dedication meant blocking out a lot of the static and noise, sticking to my promise, and focusing on what I had to do to best follow through on my decision.
* * *
DEDICATION MEANT BLOCKING OUT A LOT OF THE STATIC AND NOISE, STICKING TO MY PROMISE, AND FOCUSING ON WHAT I HAD TO DO TO BEST FOLLOW THROUGH ON MY DECISION.
* * *
In actuality, my dedication to Clemson never wavered in the least. For one thing, it’s not as though I was choosing a school whose program was completely in the tank. Over its history, Clemson has had many ACC championships as well as successful bowl game appearances. Additionally, part of the appeal for me was Clemson’s dedication to develop the program with me as its centerpiece—I would be lying if I said that didn’t hold a lot of sway.
This situation would also give me tremendous opportunities to work on my leadership skills. Had I gone to a different program, I would have likely had to share leadership with more established players. While I would have been perfectly happy to do that, I recognized that Clemson would offer me a more complete leadership role. That was something I wanted to embrace.
But, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, in talking with Coach Dabo Swinney, I could also sense his level of dedication. I could see the commitment in his eyes, the way he looked at me when he outlined what he intended to do and just how he would make it happen. I trusted that he was going to follow through. That was the sort of servant leader I aspired to be—someone who always kept his word. It was one of the most valuable lessons of leadership I took away from my decision to commit to Clemson: the absolute importance of keeping your word.
One of the first people I met after arriving at the Clemson campus never played football. But our first meeting turned out to be the beginning of a relationship as valuable as any I’ve had on the field.
Maria Herbst was and, as I write this, still is an academic advisor at Clemson. With a PhD, she’s earned the privilege of being referred to as Dr. Herbst, but I call her Mama Maria.
Just as Coach Perry at Gainesville High made me into far more of a quarterback than I had been, Mama Maria made me into more of a student than I had ever been—and at times that wasn’t a particularly easy job.
Mama Maria was my tutor at Clemson from the moment I arrived on campus until three years later when I graduated. When we first met, I told her that I planned to graduate from Clemson a year early. I didn’t want to be one of those NFL players who leaves school for the pros only to wait twenty years or more to go back and complete his degree—or, worse, one who never bothers to go back at all. I had promised my mom I would graduate, and I wasn’t about to pursue that goal halfheartedly.
* * *
MY MOM HAD IMPRESSED ON ME THE VALUE OF AN EDUCATION. SHE INSISTED THAT IT WOULD GIVE ME OPTIONS, AND, UNLIKE MANY OTHER THINGS IN LIFE, IT WAS PERMANENT.
* * *
My mom had impressed on me the value of an education. She insisted that it would give me options, and, unlike many other things in life, it was permanent.
“Deshaun,” she said, “you can never take away someone’s education. As great a football player as you are, that’s going to end eventually. But once you have an education, that’s a part of you for the rest
of your life. Never forget that.”
Believe me, I never have.
I also wanted to challenge myself. It would have been less stressful to stay in school for the usual four years, but I wanted a difficult goal in front of me. I wanted to complete my education and move to the next step in my life as quickly and successfully as possible.
When Mama Maria heard of my plans to graduate in less than four years, she chuckled to herself. She was seated behind her desk in a small office space in Vickery Hall that was made bigger by Mama Maria’s attention to organization. Obviously, she thought I was making some sort of joke. But seeing that I was dead serious, she quickly began offering advice.
“You’re going to have to put in a heck of a lot of work to do that,” she said in the forceful tone she would use when making an important point. As if I needed to be reminded, she told me that playing a significant role on a Division 1 football team was time-consuming enough, let alone trying to earn my diploma at a faster-than-usual pace. “Many people who don’t play football can’t find the time and commitment to graduate in three years,” she added.
Pass It On Page 5