Coming Back Stronger

by Drew Brees

When the News Came

  On the first Friday in August, in the middle of training camp, Brittany came to the Saints practice facility unexpectedly. We had just finished practice, and Sean Payton came up to me. “Drew, Brittany is here. You need to go talk to her.” I looked over at her holding Baylen, and immediately I could feel that something was very wrong. Although Brittany had brought Baylen to practices plenty of times, this was a closed practice, and under normal circumstances, no one would be allowed in.

  I ran to her. She said, “Hold your son, Drew. I am going to tell you something, but I need you to hold your son. I need you to know we are going to get through this.”

  I took Baylen in my arms and sat down. She started to sob but was able to muster the strength to say, “Baby, your mom just passed away.” All I could do was hold my son and my wife and cry. My heart sank to the ground, and I couldn’t speak. What happened? We’d been planning her visit, and now we were planning her funeral instead.

  Brittany said that she had gotten the call from my brother, Reid, and it appeared to be a suicide. I could not believe what I was hearing. This had to be a bad dream. I took some time with Brittany and Baylen and then tried to gather myself before going in to talk with Sean. I thought I was fine when I walked into his office, but the minute he stood up, I could see the sympathy in his eyes. I lost it. It took me a while to rein in my emotions before sitting down and talking about what had happened. Sean and I talked for a long while, and his words were very comforting at a difficult time. He was there to listen, and he also had some words of wisdom and encouragement as I dealt with this loss, both short-term and long-term. He told me to take as much time as I needed. “Allow yourself to grieve,” he said. “You don’t ever want to look back and realize you didn’t let yourself feel what you needed to feel. We all handle the death of a loved one in different ways, but make sure you take enough time to do it properly. Don’t worry about getting back here. We will be here for you when you return.”

  I walked very slowly back to my locker, still in a daze about the news I had heard. I gathered my things and tried to leave as quickly as possible, so as to not draw attention from any of my teammates. I called my brother as soon as I could to make sure he was okay and to find out exactly what had happened. I was waiting for him to tell me this was all a horrible joke or a big misunderstanding. He didn’t. I asked him if it was possible that it wasn’t a suicide or if there was some kind of confusion. It had to have been an accident. My brother confirmed my worst fear, as he had been the one who talked to the police that day. My mother had been visiting a friend in Colorado. She had packed prescription sleeping pills, pain pills, and antidepressants, some of which dated back to the 1990s.

  I flew out to Denver the next day to be with my brother and to see my mother one last time. Being with Reid that day, when we were both in such a vulnerable state, felt right. We had been the two most important people in Mom’s life, and it seemed appropriate for us to be able to say good-bye to her together. Having this time with Reid made it all a little easier.

  My mom had left handwritten notes for certain people when she passed away. One of those notes was for me and Brittany and another was for Baylen. It was very hard to read them, but I hoped there would be some answers in them. As we started getting more information, the reality began to sink in that she had indeed taken her own life. The question that haunted all of us was “Why?”

  We were hoping the cause of death would stay private, but unfortunately it became public once the toxicology report and autopsy were final. It took three months to get the official results, and we thought maybe by then the media would just leave it alone. They didn’t. It’s devastating enough to deal with the death of a parent, but facing her suicide seemed almost unbearable.

  In the three weeks after her passing, as we all talked and worked through things as a family, I probably learned more about my mom than I had known my whole life. I had no idea about her early days and the secret mental and emotional problems she’d had. Even from childhood, she’d dealt with those demons by disguising them or hiding them. Family members tried to confront her and get her help, but she would become defensive and deny she had a problem. Her struggles only worsened as she got older. She certainly didn’t talk about these issues with Reid and me, and she did her best to be there for us and be the best mother she could be in spite of her illness.

  Mom’s death was a crushing blow to our entire family. We made it through the memorial services, but they were extremely tough and emotional. I really appreciated all the people who came to the services to support our family. Our team owner, Tom Benson, flew Coach Payton and my closest teammates to the service. I hope they all know how much that meant to me.

  Sometimes the best way to heal is by knowing how many people care. There’s no way to describe the pain and all the questions that haunt you after something like that happens. I still couldn’t accept the fact that my mom would never see her grandson. It was all she had talked about for the last six months—how excited she was to hold that little boy. I was overcome with feelings of regret, sadness, and shame that bubbled up from deep inside.

  For the first time I was starting to realize how much her constant, internal pain drove her to do some of the things she did. It didn’t excuse her behavior, but things made more sense to me. And when I thought about how she took her own life, I knew she must have been in such a lonely, dark place for her to feel like that was the only option. Instead of being angry at her for the ultimate selfish act, I felt sad for her. I knew she had acted out of her pain.

  Unanswered Questions

  Even with my new perspective about Mom’s history, the first few weeks after her death were filled with confusion and unanswered questions. I felt anger at her for leaving us, guilt for not reaching out more effectively, and remorse over our strained relationship.

  I also struggled with the spiritual implications of her choice. I sought counsel from people who know a lot more about the Bible than I do. Some Christians believe suicide is an unpardonable sin. They think God can’t forgive such a heinous act. But friends and spiritual leaders in my life were able to show me how the Scriptures reveal the depth of God’s love. The way to a relationship with God isn’t by doing good things or keeping rules. My mom made mistakes in her life, but so have I. All of us have. The way to an eternal relationship is by accepting the grace God offers us. Had my mom asked for God’s forgiveness as she had taken her own life? Did she have God’s grace in her heart when she passed? If you have God’s grace in your life, you can’t be separated from him by a bad decision. Understanding more of the love of God gives me the comfort that my mother really is in heaven. And I feel confident she will be smiling down on us forever, because that is what she promised in her letter to me.

  I had agonized over the broken relationship with my mother for many years. When she died, the truth about her emotional problems and mental issues spilled onto the deck of my life. That was the most intense time of mourning I’ve ever experienced. But gradually God started bringing healing in my life. I came to the realization that Mom was no longer in pain. I didn’t have to hurt for her any longer. That relieved me, and in a way it gave me strength and enabled me to use all the concern and worry I once had for her in more constructive ways. I felt that for once in her life, my mother was finally at peace. Mom’s death also brought the rest of the family much closer. We needed each other to mourn, and after going through that difficult crucible, we’re stronger now than we’ve ever been. I never would have chosen to go down that path. But somehow God has brought good out of it anyway.

  As the 2009 season got underway, the grief lessened and I began to see all the great times I’d had with my mom and all the good things she had given me. In a way, everything I’d been through gave me an incredible internal strength I never would have had otherwise. Who would have guessed that a season that started out in the midst of such a dark valley would end up on a mountaintop.

  Chapter Sixteen


  The Year of Finishing Strong

  With all that had happened with Mom, my 2009 preseason was off to a really rocky start. In the past I’d always been able to compartmentalize certain things and focus on the task at hand, but I’d never experienced anything like this before. The players and coaches were very supportive and told me to take all the time I needed, but I was honestly glad to be back with the team and get to work. Anything to take my mind off the tragedy of my mother’s death.

  As a team, we knew we needed to make this our year to change things. We’d been floundering the past two seasons, and it was time for a shake-up. If you want to do something you’ve never done, you have to prepare by doing something you’ve never done. We evaluated everything from 2007 and 2008 and found that the common denominator in the games we lost was “finishing.” As we watched game clips and discussed what had gone wrong, that word kept bouncing off the walls. Finish. What would have happened in those seasons if we had finished half the games we’d lost in the closing moments? We would have been playoff bound, if not divisional champs.

  As I looked around at my teammates that year, I saw we had a lot of people with God-given talent. But we needed something more than that—talent will get you only so far. Champions are forged from commitment, preparation, and discipline. I believed we could go a long way if we were willing to buy into everything that was being taught. I’m always looking for ways to motivate myself and others in the off-season. I told the guys that if we finished every game, we could not only win the division—we could get a first-round bye and be the number one seed. Even better, we could win it all. Instead of focusing on a bunch of different things we needed to do, we pinpointed just one. We kept it simple, and that phrase finish strong stuck. We all believed that was exactly what we needed to do.

  On a Monday morning in April, we had our first off-season meeting to kick off our program. We went over the basic stuff—welcome; here is a recap of last season; this is what we expect from players; here are some things we need to improve upon as we look ahead. I had gotten the okay from Coach to have ten minutes with the team, both players and coaches, at the end of the meeting.

  I had found a book with vignettes about average people who had done extraordinary things simply because they’d focused on finishing well. The book was Finish Strong by Dan Green, and I bought a copy for every member of the team. I also gave everyone a wristband that said, “Finish Strong.” I read some favorite quotes that struck me about the power of seeing something through to completion. I was passionate about this, and I wanted the other guys to catch the same vision for the season ahead.

  Finish strong became one of our themes for the year. In the weight room we promised to make the last repetition the best of the day. As we watched film, we focused even harder during those last fifteen minutes. And we took it out onto the field too. At the end of games when we might have faltered in the past, we hung tough. The offense made big plays, the defense created turnovers, and the special teams came up with game-winning field goals or returns. It was not just a mantra but a way of life. We took that phrase seriously, and it paid off.

  That year was the most intense off-season and preseason I’ve ever seen. Our defense’s mentality was We’ve got something to prove to everybody. Our offense saw their attitude and countered, You’re not pushing us around. It got competitive fast. And it was truly a case of iron sharpening iron. We made each other better. We were confident we had one of the best offenses in the league. Our defense had heard enough about them being the weak link on the team. Our new defensive coordinator, Gregg Williams, created a new culture among the players: they were going to dial up the pressure, play aggressively, and not apologize. That attitude and talent came together, and I was seeing things I’d never seen before from our defense.

  When the season began, we were prepared. No other team could bring more pressure than we’d already seen in practice. We had a fast and brutal defense and a high-powered, light-’em-up offense. And to top it all off, we had a healthy dose of confidence and were gaining that swagger with each workday. We believed there was no team we couldn’t stop on defense and no team we couldn’t outscore on offense.

  Nine, Ten, Win Again

  Before the season, in late June 2009, I took a USO trip to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Ever since I watched A Few Good Men, I’ve dreamed about visiting Guantanamo Bay. Gitmo’s reputation as a tough and rugged environment for the Marines always made it appealing to me. I thought this might be my last opportunity to visit the troops there since President Obama had announced they were shutting down the operation. I have the utmost respect for our military, and I believe they’re protecting us from enemies we can’t even imagine. Because they do what they do, you and I can safely do what we do every day. To be there with those guys I look up to so much was the ultimate experience.

  One morning the Marines invited me to get up and do physical training with them. I was jacked—I felt like I was going to a playoff game. I got up at 5 a.m. and hustled out. It was still dark when we arrived at the meeting point, a place they called the “mosquito tree.” And for good reason. Not only were you fighting the thick, humid air, but you had to keep moving or else the mosquitoes would get you.

  We got into formation and started running. I was following along in step, listening to the cadence, and there was a leader off to the side who would yell to help us stay in stride. We were running in three rows, with ten to twelve per row. He called off, “Left, right, left”—nothing complex—but the inflection in his voice and the rhythm of the footsteps washed over us. Somehow the chant kept us locked in and focused on what we were doing. He wasn’t just telling us what to do; he was leading us.

  This was new to me. I was trying to listen to the words and repeat them back like the Marines did, but I was a little hesitant at first, not wanting to shout out the wrong thing. They were yelling fast, and I was having trouble understanding some of what I was hearing, especially as the run progressed and everyone started breathing a little harder. The others seemed to know every word by heart, and they weren’t shy about belting it out. But by the end of the training session, I had both the rhythm and the words, and I began shouting everything back to the leader like I was one of them.

  As soon as I got the hang of the running and chanting, something clicked inside. I thought, This is awesome. I knew a part of that experience would stick with me, and there would be something for me to take back to my team. Sure enough, at one point in the run, they started a chant. Here’s what the leader called out:

  “When I say, ‘One,’ you say, ‘Two.’ When I say, ‘Kill,’ you say, ‘For you.’

  “One.”

  “Two!”

  “Kill.”

  “For you!”

  “When I say, ‘Three,’ you say, ‘Four.’ When I say, ‘Kill,’ you say, ‘Some more.’

  “One.”

  “Two!”

  “Kill.”

  “For you!”

  “Three.”

  “Four!”

  “Kill.”

  “Some more!”

  And then it was “Five, six. Kill, for kicks! Seven, eight. Kill, it’s great! Nine, ten! Kill, again!” Each time he would go back to one and start over, so it took forever to get all the way through this chant. And you really had to pay attention closely if you wanted to keep up.

  I’ll admit, the words of the chant are harsh, but they’re appropriate for these proud few. A Marine is not trained to keep the peace or direct traffic. A Marine is trained to kill and break things and mess up the plans of the enemy. The military doesn’t kill for kicks, of course—it’s just a chant. Of anybody on the planet, they know the seriousness and gravity of the mission. They live with the reality and the consequences of that responsibility every day.

  As soon as I heard the chant, I knew it was something that would resonate with my teammates. But I figured the NFL wouldn’t approve of me urging players to go out and kill. So I changed kill to win. Here’s how our chant w
ent during 2009:

  “One, two! Win, for you. Three, four! Win, some more! Five, six! Win, for kicks! Seven, eight! Win, it’s great! Nine, ten! Win, again!”

  The chant is a reminder that as we play, we’re striving to win not just for ourselves but for each other. And we’re not just winning for the team; we’re winning for the city and for our fans too. Every time we step onto the field, we’re playing to win. And the next week when we come back, we’re going to do it all over again. That was our philosophy for the season. Everybody would get hyped up before each game, and then we’d bring it in, and with every hand in the middle, I’d say, “Win on three. One, two, three. Win!”

  There was a feeling of ownership and unity with the chant. We wanted to make other teams say, “What are they doing? Those Saints have something special, a unique bond.” The cadence became popular, even though most people didn’t understand what we were saying. It gave us an us-against-the-world mentality: if you’re part of our team, you’re part of a brotherhood that plays together and trusts each other and will fight to the end.

  Starting Out Strong

  For our first game, we played at home against a new Detroit Lions team. They had lost all sixteen games the year before, but there were many new faces on the sideline now—and they were hungry for a fresh start. We were prepared to get their best performance and their best game.

  We blazed out onto the field with reckless abandon, not caring who we were playing. We scored on the first two possessions and kept adding to the lead, finally winning 45–27. That day was a career high in touchdown passes for me. It was just one of those games. Everybody was given opportunities and everyone made plays. It also made me the first player in history to throw six touchdown passes on opening day.

  It felt good for our team to light it up for forty-five points, especially since the first game is always a question mark in regard to the other team’s defense. No team shows much in the preseason, so it didn’t help to watch film. Plus, the Lions had a new coaching staff, so we couldn’t base much on past precedent. It was a good start to come out strong in the face of those unknowns.