Finally Free (10 page)

The team got back on track in 2004. We had a new GM, Rich McKay, and a first-year head coach, Jim Mora. Coach Mora was
what I'd call a “player's coach,” someone who looked out for his guys and went out of his way to cultivate relationships with them.

We started the season 4-0 and never really looked back. We finished 11-5 while earning the second seed for the NFC playoffs. I was healthy again and put up some good numbers. Even though we lost the regular season finale, we still had a lot of confidence heading into the playoffs.

We won the divisional playoff game against quarterback Marc Bulger and the St. Louis Rams; and again, we found ourselves matched up against Donovan and Philadelphia in the NFC Championship game.

I wanted to win that game. I wanted to win that game bad. On a personal level, I knew that one of us—either me or Donovan—had the opportunity to become only the third black quarterback to start in the Super Bowl. From an African-American standpoint, that was important to me.

Donovan and I didn't speak leading up to the game. But I remember talking to him on the field before the game. It was in Philadelphia, and I was all bundled up in several layers. All Donovan was wearing was a T-shirt. He looked at me and said, “You lost already.”

I laughed.

“You lost already,” he joked.

Perhaps he was right. We went on to lose to Donovan and Philadelphia, 27-10. Again.

Now I'm in Philly. And I can deal with the cold.

We were changing the culture of the Falcons. There was excitement in the city. Ticket sales were up. And we were becoming a prominent contender.

The Falcons were relevant again.

My endorsement career was also skyrocketing. Being a part of the Nike family was one of my coolest experiences as a young athlete. Nike represents the best—whether it was Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, or Derek Jeter—and it was rewarding to be a part of that.

The commercials they produced were amazing, and it was weird to think that they were about
me
. One, called “The Michael Vick Experience,” featured a young boy getting on a roller coaster. It was really clever. Another was a Nike Gridiron commercial, featuring Terrell Owens and me, which had some of the coolest graphics I had ever seen.

I was also honored and humbled to go on the cover of
Madden NFL 2004
. I've always been a
Madden NFL
football fan, and it was neat to work with EA Sports on my favorite game.

I was flying high in Atlanta; Atlanta loved me, and I loved Atlanta. I loved everything about it and never wanted to play anywhere else.

I loved driving on Interstate 85.

I loved all the restaurants. My two favorite places to eat were Stoney River and the Tavern at Phipps. You went to Stoney River
strictly for the steak, which was outrageously good. The Tavern was known for their honey croissants and awesome fried shrimp.

I even loved just being at Lenox Square.

But most importantly, I loved all the people. Atlanta is a diverse city—a melting pot. There is so much tradition and even growth. Like the No. 7, Atlanta fit me.

During my time there, I sincerely tried to make a difference in the metro Atlanta area by reaching out to others and serving the community. Though football was keeping me busy, and the Falcons organization had us involved in the community, I felt it was very important to give from my heart to others. It was important to me because now that I had so much, I needed to share it.

I volunteered at an orphanage. It was a chance for me to love on those kids and give them hope. I also ran a Christmas toy drive for them each year that I played in Atlanta.

During that time, I didn't just try to make an impact in Atlanta; I tried to give back in Newport News too. I did a lot of work with the Boys & Girls Club in both places. As I have said earlier, the Boys & Girls Club was a great place for me to go as a kid, and it provided me with opportunities to grow. Working with the clubs allowed me to make that same positive impact on a new generation. Also, back in Virginia, I made it a priority to help feed people at the homeless shelter. I grew up around poverty and understood its impact.

But my giving wasn't limited to my time. I tried to use my financial situation to help less fortunate people as well. I bought toys, backpacks filled with school supplies, clothes, and general
necessities to give away at the orphanage and homeless shelter. I also gave to my home church in Virginia.

One opportunity stands out more than any other. In 2002 Susan Bass, the Falcons' community relations director at the time, approached me about a young boy, a twelve-year-old. She shared that he was in need of a heart transplant and that his family was in a very difficult situation. She wanted to know if I would help. There was no way I wouldn't.

I briefly met the boy and his family and decided to make a considerable contribution to assist them. I didn't want the press behind it because it wasn't about that. I just wanted to give someone a chance to live so that he could dream like I was able to dream. I wanted to have an impact on him so that he could go out and have an impact on someone else. I wanted to give him a chance so that he could give someone else a chance.

The game in Green Bay may have been my best moment, but helping that young boy's situation was my proudest.

Like the 2003 season, the 2005 and 2006 seasons were frustrating, and we regressed as a team.

In 2005 we started out great, winning six of our first eight games, but then we lost six of our last eight to finish 8-8 and miss the playoffs. Oddly, though, we sent six players to the Pro Bowl, the most for the franchise since its Super Bowl season in 1998. It was my third and final Pro Bowl as a member of the Atlanta Falcons.

We started strong again in 2006, going 5-2, but then lost our next
four games en route to a 7-9 record. My mounting frustrations were evident after the fourth consecutive defeat, 31-13 to the New Orleans Saints. The loss made our record 5-6 and, just as importantly, was a huge loss to one of our NFC South division rivals.

Individually, my season was going well. I was on the way to what would be one of the best statistical years of my career, with a career high in touchdown passes (20) and an NFL record for rushing yards by a quarterback (1,039). In many ways, I was finally playing the type of game I wanted.

But losing, particularly that Saints game, really burned me up. While walking off the field, I heard a fan telling Alge Crumpler—my teammate and one of the best tight ends in the league—that he sucked. The guy was wearing a New Orleans Saints jersey; he wasn't one of our fans. But he was with a guy who had on a Falcons jersey. They were together, and both of them started yelling to us, “You guys stink. You guys suck.”

It was an odd situation. I was like,
There's a Falcons fan with a New Orleans Saints fan, and both of them are screaming that we suck
. I just felt something wasn't right with that picture.

I became so infuriated that I put my middle fingers up at both of them, as if to say,
You know what? If y'all feel that way, then @#$% y'all.
And I didn't even think anything of it. I just reacted.

Right then, I didn't care. My attitude was,
So what? I stuck my middle fingers up.
I didn't think about who was watching or who was around.

I got a call about an hour later. The team's public relations guy, Reggie Roberts, asked me if I stuck my middle fingers up. My
response was, “Nah; well, yeah, I did, but there wasn't anybody out there.” He was like, “Man, you lie. There were cameras all over you.”

And the next thing you know, that was the hot topic.

I was sternly reprimanded by the team owner, Mr. Blank, and was fined $10,000. I contributed an additional $10,000 to charity—$5,000 to the family of a fallen firefighter and another $5,000 to then-teammate Warrick Dunn's foundation that helps single mothers become homeowners.

I look back and wish I could apologize to those two men and to everyone who witnessed the incident. I wish I had donated even more to charity, and not just money but also my time—because I so deeply regret the incident.

I would never do that now. I had always been a fan-friendly guy at Virginia Tech and in Atlanta. I am embarrassed that I took it there. I was really upset with myself after that because I knew better.

The moment showed my immaturity and was probably a symptom of greater issues in my life. It was the first of many lessons I would soon learn.

I learned that you can't react; you have to respond. I reacted negatively out of emotion; I let my emotions, not the truth, control me. I let those guys get under my skin, and they saw me sweat. They won. For them it was:
Oh, he stuck his middle fingers up at us! We made him mad! He noticed us!

Instead of letting them win that moment, I should have recognized the truth: Alge and I were Pro Bowl players, excellent at our jobs, and public figures open to criticism. Rather than reacting, I
should have simply responded with a “Thanks” and a wave, and then let my play on the field speak for me the following week.

The incident was damaging for me and the Falcons organization, but I think it also demonstrated what kind of emotions players wrestle with during and after a game. We play with a lot of passion. And for all that has ever been said about me, no one can ever say I didn't play with my heart. However, I think if things in my life were different, I would have made a more sound decision in that situation. The incident kind of set everything off. It was as if I hung a black cloud over my head.

Six weeks or so later, at the end of the 2006 season, Coach Mora was dismissed. Little did I or anyone else know at the time, but that season would be my last with the Falcons too—and with the NFL for two long years.

Through much of my time in Atlanta, I was dealing with a personal struggle that no one knew about—one that affected my concentration on football.

I had dated Tameka steadily for a long time. Six months after I was drafted, we learned that we were pregnant. Just before my second season in Atlanta, Tameka gave birth to our son, my first child, Mitez.