Finally Free (26 page)

Commissioner Goodell is a great friend who cares about you and your family. He only wants to see you excel. I made a promise
to him, and I'll never forget what was said at the conclusion of our roundtable meeting back when I was reinstated. It was Commissioner Goodell, a couple of his representatives from the NFL, Senior Vice President of Law and Labor Policy Adolpho Birch and the entire NFL group, along with me, my agent, and my lawyers. We all sat down at the table and had a four- or five-hour discussion.

At the conclusion of the meeting, Commissioner Goodell asked me out of the blue, “Without preparing a statement or having time to think about what you want to say, what are your expectations for me and for yourself?” I'll never forget that. I told him, “Nothing would be more gratifying to me than to be able to come to you in three or four years and say, ‘Commissioner, I made you a promise in August of 2009 that I would do everything I possibly could to be the best ambassador on the field and off, and to make you proud of me.'” So you can see why I was so troubled when the shooting happened and my name was being attached to the incident.

I just wanted Commissioner Goodell to know I was a man of my word and that the guy who sat before him in April 2007 and told him those lies was not the guy who came and sat in front of him in August of 2009.

After the Virginia Beach birthday party incident, I telephoned Coach Dungy. I was so upset, I couldn't carry on a conversation. I thought my career could be over. What made matters worse was that I had become lax and hadn't called him for about a two-month stretch. As soon as he picked up the phone and said, “Hello,” all I could do was cry. I couldn't even talk to him because I knew how badly I screwed up. I knew all the people I had let down. I knew he
was upset. He probably could barely hear what I was saying; I just told him how sorry I was, and I cried so hard.

He kept saying, “You're going to be fine. You've just got to know what situations you're putting yourself in.” I didn't believe it. I had lost all hope; I thought that was it. But Coach Dungy still had faith in me—for some reason—and this was merely one day after the incident. It strengthened our bond. Coach Dungy says he could tell I was sincerely remorseful, and he didn't think anything like that would happen again. In the end, he thought the incident was actually good for me because it helped me realize that I would have to take full responsibility for my decisions.

My biggest mistake was not letting my mom and my fiancée have the party they wanted to have—invitation-only, at a place called Nautica's in Virginia Beach. It was going to be over at 1:00 a.m. because the facility didn't stay open late. Mom and Kijafa were only going to invite people who were close to the family, along with some of my teammates and loved ones.

It felt horrible to face my mother about the issue because it troubled her so much. Kijafa scolded me for not putting my foot down and for making decisions like letting Marcus plan the party.

Marcus and I still communicate and talk on the phone, and he'll come down to visit. But I can't go out with him unless it's a stable environment—whether it's at home or at my mom's house.

It hurts because I want to help Marcus, but he seems to resist advice. His NFL career with the Miami Dolphins was very short-lived because of it.

I look at Marcus's life and all the potential he had, and recall
everything I ever told him, and I can see he is basically going to do what he wants to do. As close as we are—and everyone knows Marcus and I are airtight—Marcus just won't take the advice that I give him. He's always been that way. He won't come and talk to me if he's having a problem or if he's struggling. But it's different with non-serious things; we'll laugh and joke all day.

Determined that the incident at the birthday party would be the last of its kind, I intensified my commitment to rebuild my reputation.

After a while, it gets old. When you're a grown man, you get tired of having your name in the press for reasons that could have been prevented.

I entered the 2010 offseason unsure of whether I would remain with the Eagles, even though I had a year remaining on my contract after the team activated that option in early March.

I really thought I was going to be traded. They still had Kevin Kolb and Donovan McNabb. I was just preparing myself and praying that I would end up with another team. News reports said any one of us could be dealt away. Donovan was the longtime starter, and Kevin had been viewed as the starter-in-waiting. I thought I might be the odd man out. But we didn't know for sure. It got to a point where I really wasn't concerned, because my agent assured me I would have the chance to play somewhere. Knowing that gave me confidence.

Eventually, Donovan was traded to the Washington Redskins. I
was surprised because they're one of the Eagles' rivals in the NFC East division. It is extremely rare for a player, especially a star, to be traded within a division.

I was also confused. If anyone was going to get traded, it should've been me. I was the No. 3 guy. I hardly played in 2009. I wasn't close enough to Coach Reid at the time to figure out why Donovan was traded. All I could do was worry about myself. The only reason I came up with was that the coaches saw my development in practice—which is true, I was making strides. If the award existed, I probably could have been Scout Team Player of the Week every week. But still, it should have been me who was traded.

With Donovan gone—though I didn't understand it—I was one step closer to getting where I wanted to be. Still, I knew it was Kevin's team. I was going to play the backup role in 2010, and I was fine with that. That was my role. I was content.

The 2010 offseason was an enjoyable time in my life. It was my first full offseason since coming home, and I had a lot of free time to relax and get my thoughts together about what I was going to do.

I also really had a chance to go out and prepare for the 2010 season. That was a blessing in itself. I had never worked so hard before in any offseason to get ready to play football. I spent time training in Virginia Beach with Tom Anderson, an assistant football and track coach at Landstown High. (We were introduced to one another by my former high school coach Tommy Reamon,
who had moved on to become Landstown's head football coach.) This was important because it had taken me much of the 2009 season to get back into shape after nearly two years in prison.

I began working out with Coach Anderson in mid-February, and he put me through a rigid regimen. He worked me hard and wasn't afraid to step up and say, “Mike, this is the way we're going to do things.” Coach Anderson wasn't hesitant or timid just because I was Mike Vick. He approached it with a professional attitude and a tough work ethic, like,
We're going to get it done, and we're going to bring you back so you can reap all the benefits we know you are capable of reaping.

I regained my leg strength and speed working with Coach Anderson. Then I reported to the Eagles' offseason conditioning program. Team strength and conditioning coordinator Barry Rubin picked up where Coach Anderson left off and just took me to a totally different level. I explained to him what I was trying to do—where I wanted to be—and he took over.

This was a whole new way for me. The personal commitment I put into offseason conditioning far exceeded anything I had done when I was with the Falcons. I had never put in that type of time and had never put in that type of work—but now it was paying off. It was great. Before prison, I didn't have that type of work ethic in the NFL. After prison, I wasn't even sure I would have the opportunity to play in the NFL. And now, I had both: work ethic and an opportunity.

I entered the 2010 season refreshed. Strangely, having three years off rejuvenated me.

Even with all the rest I had, I didn't profess to be as fast as I was in my younger days. When I was twenty-two, I could really run, but I never really had long speed. If you think about all my runs, they were just bursts of speed to get out in front.

Though I wasn't twenty-two anymore, I still thought I could run the forty-yard dash in less than 4.5 seconds, which is much faster than other quarterbacks. Age is a big deal, though. You can't outrun Father Time.

The other thing about not playing for three years was that my body hadn't taken the pounding that other thirty-year-old football players' bodies had. I was only twenty-six when I played my last game with the Falcons. Then there were the two years in prison. Then I basically spent a year on the sidelines in 2009. I also played sparingly my rookie year when I was twenty-one, and when I was twenty-three, I didn't play a full season because of an injury. So, I really only had four seasons of wear and tear on my body coming into 2010.

I was glad to stay in Philadelphia. Living there was inspiring in a lot of ways. For example, one of my favorite movie characters, Rocky Balboa, is an icon there. The
Rocky
film series was set in Philly.

I watch
Rocky
every time it's on TV. I could watch that and the movie
Jaws
over and over and over again.
Rocky
exemplifies
everything you want in your son, in your father, in yourself—which is strength and courage and a great woman by your side who is very supportive and urges you to do the right things in certain situations. He is just a warrior.

All the
Rocky
movies are inspirational, but especially
Rocky IV
, when he goes to Russia and has to fight Drago. He did it because he believed in himself. That was the only reason. There was no one who could convince him otherwise. It was in his heart.

It's not just the story, though; the music from those movies motivates me too. I remember when I played with Patrick Kerney in Atlanta, he had the
Rocky
soundtrack, and I always asked him if I could borrow his iPod so I could listen to it. The soundtrack is very inspirational.

To many people, the season I would have in 2010 would be very inspirational as well.

Chapter Thirteen

MV 2.0: The 2010–11 Season