* * *
That terrific week was offset the following week with a loss to the Kansas City Chiefs, 42–34, on NBC’s Sunday Night Football. Still, I finished sixteen of thirty-one for 261 yards and five touchdown passes, tying an NFL rookie record for touchdown passes thrown in a single game.
We lost again three weeks later to the Seattle Seahawks, 41–38. Although I passed for 402 yards and four touchdowns, I also threw three interceptions—an issue I knew I had to work on. My accuracy and decision-making still needed attention, and I focused on both during practice and film study.
Nonetheless, by setting the NFL record for touchdown passes in a calendar month made by a rookie (sixteen), I was named the AFC Offensive Player of the Month and the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Month. (I was honored but also found it kind of funny, remembering Mama Maria’s ribbing about me going here and there to collect all these awards.)
Then the season simply fell apart.
The day I received AFC Offensive Player of the Month honors—just four days after the Seattle game—my teammates and I were going through a routine Thursday afternoon training session. The team had invited local members from all the military branches and their relatives as well as the families of players and staff, so there was a larger audience than we usually had for these sorts of everyday drills. Given my award-winning performance the past several weeks, I felt as though a lot of eyes were watching every move I made.
Unfortunately, I gave them more to watch than anyone ever could have expected—myself in particular.
As I went around the right end during a run-through of a play we had practiced dozens of times before, my right knee gave way under me. I fell to the ground without even being touched. At the time it seemed like the most innocent thing imaginable. I felt no pain, nothing out of the ordinary. It was as though I had simply slipped.
As I left the field, I assured the team doctors there was nothing to worry about. I had just landed in a weird way that caused my knee to lock. I wasn’t trying to hand them a line. My knee felt fine—totally normal.
But it was anything but normal. After some preliminary evaluation, the doctors insisted on a complete examination. When the results came back, I was stunned. An MRI confirmed that I had torn my ACL—again. My season was done.
Following surgery, I was looking at eight to nine months of rehab. I had been through this before at Clemson—beginning a year as a backup, later named the starter, only to suffer a torn ligament that pulled an entire season out from under me. It was gut-wrenching and all too familiar.
The first thing I did after hearing this was call my family back in Georgia. Mom’s reaction was predictable.
“Deshaun, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom. I’m really upset.”
“Honey, take your time. We’ve been through this before.”
She said that several times more in our conversation. It was just what I needed to hear.
Next, I spoke with my agent. David was very encouraging, urging me to take things one step at a time and not to be overwhelmed by disappointment and frustration. He, too, reminded me that I had overcome a similar situation before.
* * *
I HAD BEEN THROUGH THIS BEFORE AT CLEMSON—BEGINNING A YEAR AS A BACKUP, LATER NAMED THE STARTER, ONLY TO SUFFER A TORN LIGAMENT THAT PULLED AN ENTIRE SEASON OUT FROM UNDER ME. IT WAS GUT-WRENCHING AND ALL TOO FAMILIAR.
* * *
I knew this was just another low, and I tried not to let it get me down. I determined not to let my injury keep me from contributing to the team, so I decided it was time to study film—and study it with a particularly strong commitment. I reviewed Sunday’s game plan against the Indianapolis Colts to see if I could identify anything that might be valuable. The next morning I joined the team at practice, offering to help Tom Savage—the veteran I’d replaced during the season opener—in any way I could.
Even though I couldn’t play for the rest of the year, I knew I had to do what I could to be of service to the team. While I couldn’t physically take part in practices and games, I still had something to contribute. I wasn’t about to ignore any opportunity to continue to serve. In that sense, my injury didn’t compromise my commitment in the least; if anything, it broadened it, since I had to be constantly watching for opportunities to contribute other than on the playing field itself. I was learning what it meant to be a leader who was always willing to serve.
I also knew that I had a role in how the team reacted to my injury. I remember watching a television analyst describe how the Texans needed to handle their emotional response to what had occurred. While my injury was discouraging, my teammates and I had to direct our attention to the remainder of the season and deal with the reality of the situation. I knew I had to contribute in every way possible to making sure my teammates’ disappointment at my injury didn’t impact their attitude moving forward.
* * *
WHILE I COULDN’T PHYSICALLY TAKE PART IN PRACTICES AND GAMES, I STILL HAD SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE.
* * *
My teammate and star defensive lineman J. J. Watt set the tone when he tweeted: “Minor setback for a major comeback. We’ve all seen what’s possible, can’t wait to see what’s next. With you every step of the way [No.] 4.”2
I had a lot of disappointment and—yes—anger at having sustained a season-ending injury, but I tried to keep Cam Newton’s advice in mind. One thing that helped was realizing that even though my injury was a very big deal for me and my team, I was not the only person in Houston who was having a tough time.
Some were dealing with far worse.
Not long before the start of the 2017 season, Hurricane Harvey devastated Houston and much of the Gulf Coast. The storm killed sixty-eight people and caused about $125 billion in damages. I knew of three ladies who worked in the Texans’ practice facility cafeteria who, from what I had heard, had lost pretty much everything they owned in the hurricane. What I was going through now was nothing compared with what those three ladies had to deal with. It was a reminder of the lesson I had learned during my mom’s battle with cancer: however challenging my situation was, there was always somebody else who needed help and support more than I did. It was important to keep looking around me and not merely focus on myself.
* * *
HOWEVER CHALLENGING MY SITUATION WAS, THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMEBODY ELSE WHO NEEDED HELP AND SUPPORT MORE THAN I DID.
* * *
Because I came from a background where we had little, I knew what it felt like to struggle with deprivation. In the case of the three cafeteria ladies, though, it had been so sudden, so cruel. Scarcity came like a thief who had broken into their homes and taken everything of value to them, including the house itself. Despite that, they and others continued to report to work, some as early as 4:30 a.m., to make sure a team of professional athletes—men essentially playing a boy’s game—were properly fed.
The reality of the tragedy those three ladies had suffered seemed out of proportion with fifty-some wealthy athletes downing the calories they needed to perform.
So I decided to do something about it. One morning I giggled self-consciously as I carried three ribbon-wrapped envelopes into the cafeteria. The three women who had lost everything were standing to one side. I handed each of them an envelope with a check for a third of my first NFL game paycheck.
“For what you all do for us every day and never complain, I really appreciate y’all, so I wanted to give my first game check to y’all to help y’all out in some type of way,” I told them. “Hopefully, that’s good and that can get you back on your feet. And anything else y’all need, I’m always here to help.”
Tears streamed down the women’s faces as we all hugged. It was as rewarding a moment as any I’ve ever had in my life. I was focused on what I had and what I could offer to those who had less. Cameras rolled to push the experience into the viral world of television and the internet. I had resisted that part at first because I had wanted to do this in a low-key w
ay. But the public relations people insisted because they knew that spreading the word would lead other people to reach out and help hurricane victims too.
And it worked. Other members of the team stepped up and made donations to help the ladies get back on their feet. On a larger scale, my teammate J. J. Watt spearheaded a fundraising effort, raising tens of millions of dollars to help rebuild hundreds of homes, childcare centers, and after-school programs throughout the Houston area. I’d always admired J. J.’s character and leadership, and his efforts toward hurricane relief made me even prouder to call him my teammate.
But still there was the issue of my injury. As we closed out the 2017–18 season, I committed to regaining my health so I could be fully prepared for the next season.
I had plenty of time to think about that good advice Cam Newton had given me as I worked to get back into shape, and I realized that his wisdom was really all about balance. I try to maintain that sense of balance in everything I do.
For instance, as a professional athlete, I understand that many elements go into being a successful NFL quarterback. With that in mind, I try to strike a balance in my training, not focusing on any one aspect of my play but giving every skill due attention. It’s helped me become a better, more well-rounded athlete overall.
I try to do the same in my personal life. Although it can be difficult with the schedule of a professional athlete, I try to strike a balance between the various people and activities outside of football. Naturally, family is often at the top of the list, but so too are friends, activities that I enjoy, my faith, and work in the community. I try to make it so that no one area suffers from a lack of attention because of undue focus on something else.
Thinking about my life in terms of balance has helped me make better decisions and respond to unforeseen circumstances too. If I’m faced with a problem, I try to take the time to slow down and consider every aspect of the situation. I think: What can I do to address the problem? What’s outside of my control? What’s the best possible outcome? What’s the worst?
By prompting myself to move beyond merely reacting and, instead, weighing every aspect of what’s going on around me, chances are good that I’m more balanced in my approach to the situation. And that leads to better decision-making.
I’ve developed a way to help me maintain the sort of balance that leads to good choices. It took a while to get a handle on it, but now I try to see myself from a third-person perspective, as though some impartial outsider is watching what I do and offering suggestions for improvement. This allows me to make changes without feeling bad about them or getting down on myself for what I see as weakness or a stupid mistake.
* * *
AS SOMEONE ONCE TOLD ME ABOUT BALANCE, “IF YOU’RE TOO BIG FOR THE SMALL MOMENTS, YOU’LL BE TOO SMALL IN THE BIG MOMENTS.”
* * *
Maintaining balance means you are able to keep your head while everyone around you is losing theirs. As someone once told me about balance, “If you’re too big for the small moments, you’ll be too small in the big moments.”
In other words—never get too high and never sink too low.
PASS IT ON
•Think back to a time that was particularly stressful. How did you handle it? Were you able to maintain your composure, or did you get caught up in the emotion of the moment? Did you feel a sense of balance, of not getting too excited or too disappointed if things did or didn’t go your way?
•Do you have a strategy for balancing the various responsibilities and stresses in your life? How do you think you do at managing it?
•Why do you think it’s important to not let yourself focus too much on either extreme highs or extreme lows? How do you find the middle ground?
YOUR CHALLENGE
When you next confront a tense situation or some similar challenge, pay attention to how you react. Work to keep your focus and perspective. It may not be perfect, but the more you work at always having a sense of balance, the better you will be, even in the most challenging circumstances.
THE DESHAUN WATSON FOUNDATION
Helping those women in the cafeteria felt good—so good that I knew I wanted to find a way to help others more regularly. Happily, with my position in sports and the community as a whole, I’ve been blessed to make that ambition come alive in a rather big fashion.
In early October 2019, I announced the launch of my charitable organization, the Deshaun Watson Foundation. The nonprofit is dedicated to the support of families and young people in underserved communities.
The foundation focuses on four key elements:
1.Housing: The organization will offer rent and mortgage assistance for families who need help to find a safe, healthy place to call home.
2.Education: The foundation will provide college scholarships and other forms of financial assistance to qualified and deserving students. The organization will also target financial assistance and support to other types of schools and educational programs to better prepare young people for the professional and personal challenges of adulthood.
3.Health: The Deshaun Watson Foundation will offer financial and other forms of support for families and children confronted with life-changing medical situations. Just as important, the foundation will assist with offering and promoting various forms of preventative health care.
4.Other Charitable Causes: The foundation will also identify and support other initiatives benefiting families and children.
Going down this list, it’s easy to see why this foundation’s activities mean so much for me. Given my life-changing experience with Habitat for Humanity, I was determined to make housing a cornerstone of the foundation’s activities. So, too, the many benefits and blessings I received through an amazing education at Clemson University made educational support of all sorts a vital aspect of the organization.
Lastly, my mom’s struggle with cancer ensured that health care would also serve a prominent role in the foundation. If I can help even one family avoid or better deal with the horror that is cancer, I will feel both blessed and honored.
As I learned through the challenges and struggles of my life, a leader always makes certain to give back and put others ahead of him-or herself. In my case, I’m able to do it on a fairly significant scale, but no matter the circumstances, we can all benefit and grow as leaders if we look to put others ahead of our own goals and interests.
Looking to become involved? Check out the Deshaun Watson Foundation at https://www.deshaunwatsonfoundation.org for further information and opportunities to donate or participate in foundation activities and events.
CHAPTER 7
IGNORE THE DOUBTERS, FORGIVE THE HATERS
When you’re an injured professional athlete, outside doubt can smother you. Can he come back? Will he be the same? Will he have the confidence to do the same things he used to do?
At the start of the 2018–19 season, there was widespread concern about my ability to come back from a season-ending injury the prior year. I don’t fault anyone who felt doubtful. Sports history is littered with tragic stories of athletes who suffered similar injuries that hindered or effectively ended their careers. Think Joe Theismann, Gale Sayers, and countless others.
But I had been through this before. I knew what I had to do. And I pursued rehabbing my injury with the level of commitment necessary to return to peak playing condition. I owed it to myself to do everything possible to return to playing shape, but I also owed it to others—my teammates, the Texans organization, and the city of Houston. Thinking about all the people depending on you strengthens your commitment and motivation to work all that much harder.
It was largely a matter of separating the external doubt from my own inner confidence. It may seem a bit blunt, but, occasionally, great leaders have to completely ignore those around them and instead listen only to themselves. It’s not so much a question of dismissing others’ concerns but instead focusing on what you know, what you feel, and how that can counter the doubts and misgivings
of others.
* * *
I OWED IT TO MYSELF TO DO EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO RETURN TO PLAYING SHAPE, BUT I ALSO OWED IT TO OTHERS—MY TEAMMATES, THE TEXANS ORGANIZATION, AND THE CITY OF HOUSTON.
* * *
After I underwent surgery in November 2017 to repair my torn ACL, the doctors and training staff mapped out a comprehensive multiweek program to build the knee back up in terms of strength and flexibility—and, at the same time, to reinforce my confidence that the knee would, in fact, perform as it had prior to the injury. Both physical and psychological strength were essential.
The overall rehab environment helped a great deal. In a somewhat strange way, even though I was working to recover from a serious injury, I enjoyed the atmosphere. I was around a lot of other guys working on their own rehab, and each of us tried to make the others better, contributing to the energy of the overall group. Don’t misunderstand, it wasn’t competitive—when you’re competing, you’re trying to beat someone else—but the level of commitment and intensity upped everyone’s game. We all fed off that energy and worked that much harder. Every one of us wanted to be the first one to be healthy and back on the field.
I approached my healing a little bit differently than other guys did. While some players’ reactions to a serious physical issue can range from teeth-gritting frustration to a feeling of utter futility, I was pretty matter-of-fact about my injury. Having been through something like this before helped, but still, I simply knew what would be necessary to get me back on the field in the very best condition possible. It was an emotional time, but I was determined not to get caught up in that emotion. Keeping my focus clear and calm reinforced my commitment to do what was necessary.
Pass It On Page 9