Many people around me seemed surprised by my attitude, that I could approach the entire challenge so calmly. Again, while I had been through injuries before, my faith and motivation were so strong that there was no room for doubt in my mind. For me, the thought of not being able to come back completely from the injury was simply unimaginable.
I also maintained a sense of balance, of not getting too discouraged or unduly optimistic. I approached my rehab like it was just business as usual. As I’d said to Roddy White when I was an Atlanta Falcons ball boy, I was just out on the grind.
* * *
WHILE I HAD BEEN THROUGH INJURIES BEFORE, MY FAITH AND MOTIVATION WERE SO STRONG THAT THERE WAS NO ROOM FOR DOUBT IN MY MIND.
* * *
Fortunately, things began to improve quickly. Not long after I started the rehab program, I was cleared to ditch the crutches I was using to get around. In time, my knee became strong enough to remove the knee brace. I began to walk more and more normally with every passing day.
The next step was beginning to run again, a goal I knew I had to be patient about. Given the severity of my injury, that would only come with time and work. But I was able to run faster and more confidently as I progressed. Eventually, I was able to participate in everything except 11-on-11 team drills. From the coaching and medical staffs’ standpoint, those drills were just too risky for any player coming back from a significant injury.
By the time we hit the opening of training camp that summer, I knew I was ready to take part in everything the team wanted me to do. Even on the very first day, my knee felt so good that I was able to direct my attention to practice without worrying about any physical problems or weaknesses. I was able to look forward, with not even a single glance back at what had happened only a few months before. From a physical standpoint, it was as though the injury had never happened.
But the doubters were concerned about issues other than the health of my knee. Since we had finished the previous season tied for dead last in our division with a dismal 4–12 record, many prognosticators and pundits gave us little chance to make a dent in the competitive AFC South. In their minds, there were simply too many question marks, too many uncertainties. In particular, they pointed to a bleak 1–7 record in road games, something that many of them didn’t see us improving on.
I certainly didn’t feel that way and neither did my teammates, and hearing all the doubt and concern outside of our locker room merely boosted our confidence and motivation. As we saw it, if someone doubts you and you feel a sense of doubt yourself, you’re basically agreeing with them. Like the old saying goes, nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.
A leader is skilled at tuning out doubters as much as possible and encouraging others to do the same. That’s not to suggest ignoring legitimate concerns and issues but, rather, incorporating them into a plan and mindset to address them. Legitimate doubt can be helpful if you use it to your advantage.
* * *
IF SOMEONE DOUBTS YOU AND YOU FEEL A SENSE OF DOUBT YOURSELF, YOU’RE BASICALLY AGREEING WITH THEM. LIKE THE OLD SAYING GOES, NOBODY CAN MAKE YOU FEEL INFERIOR WITHOUT YOUR CONSENT.
* * *
Tom Brady helped me really understand that. I’ve talked to Tom a number of times over the years. Not only do I enjoy the conversations, but I always come away from them with something of value. One comment he made to me seemed particularly appropriate as we approached a new season:
Always feel like you’re the underdog.
Tom is a six-time Super Bowl champion, and at first it was hard to believe that he could honestly ever see himself as an underdog, no matter the competition. But he really does. It might be fueled by some critic in the media or trash talk from the opposition, or, against all logic, he may simply convince himself that the team he’s going up against has the upper hand. But it really helps Tom, and when I started to put it into practice myself, I understood why.
When you see yourself as the underdog, you recognize that you can never get too comfortable. It means never underestimating your opponent, never telling yourself that you’ve worked hard enough. Having an underdog mentality is never letting anyone outwork you, never losing sight of what some other competitor might be doing to try to get on top. Learning to think as the underdog has allowed me to take criticism and doubt that others place on me and reframe it as inspiration to work even harder.
* * *
WHEN YOU SEE YOURSELF AS THE UNDERDOG, YOU RECOGNIZE THAT YOU CAN NEVER GET TOO COMFORTABLE.
* * *
As I like to put it, underdogs are always looking up, never down. And from a leadership standpoint, a gifted leader encourages that attitude in those around him or her. An underdog’s hunger grows and becomes more powerful when more people share an underdog mindset.
The 2018–19 season turned out to be one heck of a roller-coaster ride. We lost our first three regular-season games—two, as the naysayers had speculated, on the road against New England and Tennessee. Then the New York Giants came to Houston and bested us on our home field. It was a discouraging beginning.
My play was admittedly sloppy, as I threw an interception in each of the three games. Even though I was confident in my health, it still didn’t feel as though I was fully back to 100 percent. Although I tried not to pay attention, it was impossible to completely ignore the critics who began to suggest my rookie season was just another flash in the pan. Once again I forced myself to focus on my own confidence in what I knew I could do.
An 0–3 record to start the season left us with less than a 3 percent chance of making the playoffs. Only five of the 173 teams that had started a season 0–3 since 1980 had recovered to go on to postseason play. The numbers were ominous.
But they also played into the importance of an underdog mindset. With an 0–3 record, we didn’t have to convince ourselves that we were underdogs so far as our chances of making it to postseason play. We were underdogs, and that merely fueled our commitment.
I knew I had to step it up, as did all my teammates. We all had to rise to the challenge. And that’s just what we proceeded to do.
After our dismal beginning, we rallied for a nine-game winning streak, placing us at the top of the AFC South division, squarely in contention for a first-round bye. We started with a road win against division rival Indianapolis, overcoming a four-touchdown performance by quarterback Andrew Luck. Then we beat in-state rival Dallas in an exciting overtime game. We knew we were on our way.
Still, there were physical challenges. Even though we won both games, the Cowboys and Buffalo Bills pounded me to the point that my lungs deflated in my chest. Unable to withstand the air pressure of flying, I had to take a bus to the next game in Jacksonville to give my lungs time to repair themselves. I kind of felt like I was back in high school, but medically speaking, thirteen hours on a bus was the only safe way to travel.
But with two more wins against Buffalo and Jacksonville, we were sitting at the top of our division. Even better, we had put together our first four-game winning streak in several years.
My own play rebounded. A highlight of the year came in week eight, when I threw for five touchdowns in a win over Miami. My teammates’ play also improved, particularly in our run defense.
An emotional win came in week twelve, when we avenged our loss to Tennessee earlier in the year. We dedicated the victory to Bob McNair, the owner and founder of the Texans, who had died that week at age eighty-one after a long battle with skin cancer.
The win was meaningful for all of us. The McNair family was responsible for bringing professional football back to Houston. On a more personal level, the McNairs reached out to my family after I was drafted. They knew my mother’s own history with cancer, and I appreciate more than I can say the time they took to connect with her.
I believe Bob McNair is in heaven, watching down on our team. We never want to disappoint him.
I focused on improving my overall performance during the 2018–19 season. Working with Coach O’Br
ien, I looked to boost my involvement in the team to include more than my own play. I began to understand how a certain receiver’s skill set can exploit particular cornerbacks. I learned how certain throws can disrupt coverage patterns and what might cause defensive backs to break from planned routes. I embraced the wisdom of knowing when it made sense to try a challenging throw or run and when it was more prudent to run out of bounds and start with a clean slate. My perspective was maturing.
* * *
WITH MORE EXPERIENCE UNDER MY BELT AND A GREATER FAMILIARITY WITH MY TEAMMATES, I COULD BE MORE VISIBLE AS A LEADER. IT WAS MY TIME TO DO SO.
* * *
I was also growing as a leader. As I mentioned earlier, when I was a rookie, I had to be really careful about choosing my spots to express leadership. Instead of seeming like someone eager to contribute, I might have come off as an inexperienced know-it-all. But now, with more experience under my belt and a greater familiarity with my teammates, I could be more visible as a leader. It was my time to do so.
I strove to build a pervasive sense of belief in myself, my teammates, and the strategy mapped out by the coaching staff. That belief went beyond mere confidence. Players such as Tom Brady and Aaron Rodgers fill those around them with absolute certainty that they will help their team win. The other players don’t have to reason that out or look for evidence—they just believe it to be true. That was the sort of mindset and attitude I was looking to foster as a servant leader. I wanted to be the person others turned to when critical outcomes were on the line.
Still, the last few games of the regular season were hardly things of beauty. After losing at home to the Indianapolis Colts—due in large part to yet another amazing performance by Andrew Luck—we managed to squeak by the New York Jets on a fourth-quarter touchdown. After a last-second loss to the Philadelphia Eagles and a workmanlike win at home against Jacksonville, there were still plenty of skeptics who doubted we would get very far in the postseason.
* * *
I WANTED TO BE THE PERSON OTHERS TURNED TO WHEN CRITICAL OUTCOMES WERE ON THE LINE.
* * *
Our first game was a wild card rematch with the Colts and Luck, who had dominated us just a few weeks prior. Despite playing on our home field, we lost the game 21–7, our fewest points of the season.
After Indianapolis established a three-touchdown lead by the end of the first half, we managed to score with 10:57 left in the game on a 6-yard touchdown pass to rookie Keke Coutee. But we continued to struggle. Indianapolis running back Marlon Mack scorched us for 148 yards on the ground. It was the first time all year that our defense allowed more than 100 yards in the game by any one runner.
We were also unable to capitalize when opportunities presented themselves.
With regard to the frustrating level of our play, one particular series stands out in my mind. On a fourth-and-1 at the Indy 9-yard line, I missed badly when trying to connect with wide receiver DeAndre Hopkins at the back of the end zone. In retrospect, I could have easily run for a first down but instead chose to go for broke.
The experience reminded me of all that I had yet to learn.
“The Colts started off faster than us, played better than us, made more plays than us,” I said after the game in an interview. “It was a lack of execution on our part. Our communication was a little off. It was tough, but I’m going to keep my chin up and my heart light and go to work this off-season. God willing, we’ll have another chance next year. This season had a lot of ups and downs. We made a run. It didn’t end the way we wanted it to end, but the future is bright for this organization.”1
I meant every word.
That’s because there were so many positives to the season, despite the naysayers who had dogged us throughout. I played all but one snap. I played through a collapsed lung and a broken rib suffered in a victory over Dallas. We managed to win eleven games despite a rash of other injuries (our second and third receivers missed a combined total of nineteen games, and other key players were also out for significant stretches). During our nine-game winning streak, we won five of those games by seven points or fewer, proof that we had it within us to excel under pressure.
* * *
DURING OUR NINE-GAME WINNING STREAK, WE WON FIVE OF THOSE GAMES BY SEVEN POINTS OR FEWER, PROOF THAT WE HAD IT WITHIN US TO EXCEL UNDER PRESSURE.
* * *
As for myself, over the course of the season I threw for 4,165 yards and twenty-six touchdowns. I completed 68.3 percent of my throws and compiled a 103.1 passer rating, averaging 8.2 yards per pass. I also rushed for 551 yards and five touchdowns.
But one of the most memorable moments of the season in terms of my commitment to developing as a servant leader came off the field.
Not long after the regular season began, an East Texas school superintendent took to Facebook to criticize a decision I had made in the early season loss to Tennessee. We had the ball at midfield with seventeen seconds remaining, and I managed to complete a 31-yard pass to DeAndre Hopkins. However big the gain, time ran out as we tried to run another play.
In retrospect, I realized that my instincts took over when making the play that ended our chance for a comeback. At the time, with no time-outs remaining and Tennessee guarding the sidelines to prevent our stopping the clock, it seemed to me that our only chance was a long gain and, hopefully, enough time for another play.
That didn’t sit well with Lynn Redden, then superintendent of the Onalaska Independent School District, who remarked on the Houston Chronicle’s Facebook page: “That may have been the most inept quarterback decision I’ve seen in the NFL. When you need precision decision-making you can’t count on a black quarterback.”2
Redden thought he had sent a private message but instead posted the comments publicly.
The day after, he told the Chronicle that he wished he had never made those comments. Still, he added: “Over the history of the NFL, they have had limited success.”3
They.
Coach O’Brien exploded, calling the remarks ignorant and idiotic. But as Cam Newton had warned me, you’ll always have haters—people who will try to tear you down simply because it’s what they do. So I decided to take a different approach.
When a reporter asked me about the comment, I responded, “That’s on him. May peace be with him. I worry about me, so I’m not worried about what he has to say.”
The superintendent resigned shortly thereafter.
Admittedly, forgiving the hater wasn’t easy. It would have been easy—even understandable—for me to have fired off a response to the comments. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that responding in anger would accomplish nothing except for making me upset. Further, I saw that it was a leadership opportunity, a chance to keep things in perspective and rise above short-term emotions.
Looking back, was I surprised to find that such remarks still litter our society? Not really. We all say things we wish we hadn’t said. And no matter how far we believe we have advanced as human beings, false stereotypes die hard. We all have a tendency to seek out scapegoats rather than look for genuine solutions based on facts and respect. We focus on searching for someone or something to blame instead of working constructively together.
I feel that one of my responsibilities as a leader is to do what I can to discredit and tear down stereotypes of all sorts. The comment made by the school superintendent is just one example of those stereotypes. Despite his feelings on the matter, there are many gifted quarterbacks who also happen to be African Americans.
In 2018, prompted by this incident, my quarterback coach Quincy Avery put together a conference to examine the challenges of being a black quarterback—not just from a physical standpoint but also from the perspective of how others view our skill set.
* * *
I FEEL THAT ONE OF MY RESPONSIBILITIES AS A LEADER IS TO DO WHAT I CAN TO DISCREDIT AND TEAR DOWN STEREOTYPES OF ALL SORTS.
* * *
While outright racism like the school superintend
ent showed is becoming less common, many black quarterbacks have nonetheless been pigeonholed as limited. For instance, many people still see us as “run first, pass second” athletes, something I mentioned earlier.
That’s certainly not how I see myself, and I said so in that conference.
“I love sitting in the pocket. I love making those decisions,” I told the group. “Anyone asks me if I’d rather run for a touchdown or throw, I’m going to choose pass. But sometimes I feel like I get labeled as a running quarterback a lot more than passing.”
I believe the environment is changing for the better, particularly when you have so many young, gifted African American quarterbacks such as Russell Wilson, Patrick Mahomes, and Lamar Jackson establishing themselves as talented, complete football players. But change takes time, and all the more so when the issue at hand is subtler than more visible forms of stereotyping.
I’ve learned that leaders not only work to correct that sort of counterproductive thinking but also look for it when it occurs in quiet ways. For me, the best strategy is to go out each and every week and play the best, most complete game that I possibly can. The more examples I can give, and the more others can give, the more discredited the narrow, outdating thinking and attitudes become.
Pass It On Page 10