Finally Free (11 page)

My relationship with Tameka had become strained, and it eventually fell apart. It turned into a custody battle that exhausted me emotionally.

The situation really took a toll on me one season when there
was a period of time I didn't know where Mitez and his mother were living. I never wanted to be away from my son, but I found a way to manage. We went back and forth, and I finally got joint custody.

Before that, though, it was a struggle. I was in Atlanta playing football, and I was really frustrated because I was in a situation that money couldn't buy me out of. Like I said, there was half a season when I didn't know where my son was, and that really bothered me. I didn't want to complain to anyone and I didn't want to say anything to anyone, so I kept it all to myself. It was painful.

This is one of the first times I've ever really talked about the situation. It affected more than my time off the field; it carried over to the field of play as well. It hurt. Being a part of Mitez's life was extremely important to me, yet I couldn't talk to Mitez on the phone, couldn't leave him a voicemail, and couldn't find him or his mom. There were days that I went to play a game, and I expected him to be in the stands watching, but he wasn't there. I don't think it changed me as a player or as a leader, because on the outside I was still happy, but on the inside I was hurting.

I realize you can't trap personal struggles inside and allow them to fester; you have to talk about them. It's one of the things I wish I had done differently in Atlanta. I could have reached out to a lot more people for help. I didn't have to struggle alone.

Regardless of what transpired, I appreciated and still appreciate Tameka for what she has done and is doing for Mitez. Tameka and I have an amicable relationship today, and I know Mitez is well taken care of.

Though my life was lived in the spotlight, the situation with my son was not the only thing hidden from public view.

My entire experience in Atlanta could have turned out differently. Regrettably, it can be summed up in two words:
unfulfilled potential
.

The Falcons drafted me expecting more than the two playoff berths (and no Super Bowls). As much as I accomplished, I look back and see that I should have been more committed to my sport.

There is no doubt in my mind that I could have done more. I mean, I was a Pro Bowl quarterback, and I did what was asked of me. I wasn't a slacker, and I did work hard. But there were important things I didn't do.

My life and career began to waver off course in the days, weeks, and months leading up to the 2001 NFL draft. The slippage—hidden from public view—escaped the detection of the league's ultra-thorough background checks. Looking back, I believe if the NFL had known the full truth about what was happening in my life, it's very likely I never would have been the first overall pick in the draft.

Yes, I had issues off the field; and on the field, I relied strictly on my natural physical skills to carry me rather than trying to hone them. The crazy part was that from the time I left school in January 2001 until my Pro Day in March, I did not work out one time. I ate fast food every day—every day! I didn't lift weights, didn't train, didn't run, didn't study any football. I had not thrown a ball since
the Gator Bowl game. And yet I ran a 4.33 forty-yard dash at my Pro Day.

It's a marvel that I was sharp and performed so well for the scouts, given my inactivity. I don't know any way to explain it other than the natural ability God gave me kicked in for some reason. I went into my Pro Day like I had been throwing the ball for three months. Still, I can't help but wonder how I would have done if I had prepared and applied myself.

Unfortunately, I continued that trend when I got to Atlanta. Instead of trying to better myself in the game of football, I felt like what I was doing was enough. I mean, I practiced hard and did what the coaches asked me to. I thought my athletic ability was enough.

I look back now and realize I was not taking full advantage of the physical skills God gave me. I should have been spending extra time in the classroom and weight room, but I wasn't. I never devoted any part of Tuesdays—typically our weekly day off—to things such as studying film to prepare for the upcoming opponent or evaluating my past performances. It's something a lot of the best quarterbacks, like Peyton Manning, do. Often, I would go home to Virginia on Tuesdays and put time into things I should have left alone.

Back then I told myself,
Down the road, when I turn twenty-eight or twenty-nine—that's when I'll study the game. That's when I'll get better. That's probably around the time I'll win a Super Bowl anyway. Nobody is expecting me to win it at such a young age right now.

You know, I was twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, and I
was looking at guys like Chris Chandler, when he was thirty-seven, and Randall Cunningham, who was in his last year with Baltimore. Those guys were older; they knew the game; they understood it; but it took awhile for them to experience success in their careers. Because of that, I thought it just came in time. I hoped it wouldn't take as long for me, but nothing would change my mind about how I was approaching things.

Sadly, I remember all too well how Randall Cunningham and Steve Young extended themselves to me and were willing to help mentor me at the outset of my career, but I quietly and firmly pushed away their assistance and advice.

I had outlets, good outlets. I had people to talk to, but I chose not to take their advice. I chose to do it my way, not necessarily the “right way” like Coach Beamer taught. I never thought I would have to experience the things I went through, nor the adversity I had to face.

The Falcons organization provided me with so much support throughout my time with them. Mr. Blank, the team owner, treated me extremely well. I should have been more willing to build the mentoring relationship—even a father-son kind of relationship—that he wanted to have with me.

He wanted to be a great friend to me: a man of support, and someone I could count on in times of need. I never took advantage of the opportunity to learn from him—a strong leader, a successful businessman, and a man of integrity. I enjoyed him as a person, but I think there were so many more situations where I could have relied on his knowledge and wisdom. I failed to do that,
and I think it caused me to venture down dark paths during certain times in my life.

When he extended a helping hand, I walked away from it. I took everything in my life for granted. I felt like I was old enough to make decisions on my own, and I didn't need other people's counsel or advice.

Once I got used to being in the NFL spotlight, I really felt like I had arrived—that I had made it. I became complacent.

It could be said I was a bit like Icarus of Greek mythology. The myth says that he attempted to escape from an island by flying to freedom with wings made of wax and feathers. He was told not to fly too close to the sun or sea; the sun would melt the wax and the sea would add water and weight to the feathers, making the wings useless. He didn't heed the advice, flew too close to the sun, and fell from the sky into the sea.

When you're young—twenty-two or twenty-three years old with the world at your fingertips—you feel like you're a grown man. You feel like you know it all. But as I would later find out, I certainly didn't know it all.

I was flying high in the NFL. But I took shortcuts and built weak, fake wings. I didn't listen to advice, and I too fell from the sky.

Part II:

The Fall

Chapter Five

Warning Signs

“The lifestyle I was leading … would soon be revealed to the world.”

 

I
thought 2007 was going to bring great things for me. It was my seventh year in the NFL, it was '07, and my jersey number was 7.

I had built a strong image, which was evidenced by the fact that global corporations such as Nike, Coca-Cola, and AirTran had made large endorsement deals with me.

We had a new coach, Bobby Petrino, who tailored his explosive offense around my abilities. I had learned the system quickly and put myself in position to be successful with it. The system, coupled with my abilities, had Coach Petrino so enthused and encouraged, he told his coaching staff I was going to be the league MVP that year.

Instead, I didn't even make it to the season. My problems began to surface and multiply, all by my own doing.

I can't say I shouldn't have seen my fall coming. It's not as if I just instantaneously plummeted, though that's how it appeared to the public. Mine was a slow, steady fall, with many chances along the way to notice some glaring warning signs that I was headed in the wrong direction—down.

Whether I was too proud or too stubborn to see what was happening, I'm not really sure. What I do know is that I was too selfish to care about what anyone else thought, or even really care about how my actions affected them.

A lot of my poor decisions and subsequent mistakes can be attributed mostly to two things: my weak resolve in telling people no, and the people I chose to be associated with. I had an entourage of pretty questionable characters—some with their own criminal records—and I was surrounded by them almost all of the time whenever I wasn't playing football.

I acknowledge I was influenced by those around me, but I take full responsibility for my actions and the image they eventually conveyed. Like I said, it was my decision to have that entourage, and it wasn't a good one. It was the first in a series of bad decisions.

My group of friends began to assemble the moment I left Virginia Tech for the NFL. It was some locals from Newport News, their friends, and guys who approached me with something to offer. Even before I took a snap in the NFL, I had the opportunity to lead these men in a different direction. But my immaturity and youth failed us all.

I spent late nights out with the guys at nightclubs, making a myriad of bad choices. Rather than lifting weights and running, I was out drinking and partying. The Falcons had concerns about the people I was hanging around, but I don't believe team officials knew the extent of what I was doing until it was too late. I was a
bad leader off the field for those guys. I had become a manipulator and a master illusionist.