Through My Eyes (21 page)

As we walked out, I was throwing up behind my clenched teeth until we got around the corner. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I got past the end of the line of people and just took off and sprinted about twenty yards until I got behind the nearest building where I began to throw up. I was trying to catch my breath, and my head was spinning like crazy. We stood there for about twenty more minutes, and Officer Stacy kept people away from that corner because I’d been throwing up the whole time. It was horrible. The management people came by and apologized for putting me through that, and I politely said, “No, it’s okay. It’s an unbelievable ride.”

They poured cold water over me. My shirt was soaked; I was a wreck. I threw up all the way back in the police car. Officer Stacy finally got me back to my hotel room, put me into my bed, and turned out the lights. It was one of the most horrible nights of my life. I just can’t do roller coasters, or Ferris wheels, or the like. I can barely do bumper cars.

Meanwhile, my whole family was there for the Capital One Bowl game, and they all had a great time while I was off at appearances and practice. As for the game, it was a strange one. Michigan had a good game plan. They rolled up over five hundred yards of offense with Chad Henne at quarterback in what was Coach Carr’s last game, and the 41–35 loss we suffered was a disappointing way to end our season.

With an ending like that, there was no denying that we had work to do. It had been an up-and-down season in which we beat two of our three archrivals (Tennessee and Florida State), had some great games, and won some great awards, but overall there was a little bit of emptiness and regret because we knew we could have done much better. We knew we left some wins on the field. And it left a lot of reasons for all of us to move into the next off-season with a brand-new motivation to be the best that we could possibly be.

Personally, even though it had been a thrill to win the Heisman and the other awards, our not having a better season as a team diminished the luster. I would continue to work hard, as always, and continue to cast a vision for the other guys. And I was hoping it would connect with the guys in 2008 in a way it hadn’t in 2007.

Since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

—H
EBREWS 12:1–2

I had been thinking
about it for a while, but the first time I mentioned it to anyone else was at a small diner off Times Square. We were in New York for the Heisman awards ceremony in December of 2007, which was a couple of days off. After an official dinner, Zack Higbee and I headed out for more to eat.

“I want to use my profile to raise money to help children,” I told Zack. He didn’t seem surprised. I told him I thought I could use the platform God had given me to raise some money in and around the Gainesville area because of all the folks who knew me there. I was constantly asked to make appearances and sign autographs, and maybe there was a way to leverage that notoriety to raise money to support the orphanage we started in the Philippines.

When faced with the opportunity to make a difference, I know that those who become involved in positive ways in orphans’ lives are themselves blessed. And from that involvement, the kids begin to understand how important they are. Once they begin to be helped, fed, clothed, educated, nurtured, cared for, and loved, they start to become the children and eventually adults that God intended them to be when He created them.

I truly believe that the God who loves me also looks at orphans as extremely special. Over and over, my parents showed us how the Bible talks about taking care of widows and orphans. God created each one unique, with gifts and abilities like no one else, for His purposes in this world. Being able to explain that to orphans is an amazing experience, to tell them God’s story, like: “The best dad out there—God—loves you so much and wants to adopt you into His family.” I’ve always found this to be the best, most encouraging thing you can tell an orphan, that we’re all adopted into the family of God. Follow it up with a long hug, and then a lifetime of caring and commitment so that they have a chance to become all that God created them to be.

Not long after
our bowl game against Michigan, Zack and I sat down with Jamie McCloskey, Florida’s senior associate athletic director of compliance, to make sure we were allowed to do what I was hoping to do. The University of Florida and Jamie were a great to help me. They did not have to help me, and yet they spent countless hours working through the NCAA rules about what an athlete can do to raise money. There are a ton of rules even if it is for something worthwhile like a charity. We ended up partnering with the sororities on campus to put on a Powder Puff Football Tournament to raise funds for both Uncle Dick’s Home in the Philippines as well as a number of local charities. We wanted the students to feel a real connection to their efforts, and we decided that raising some of the money for identifiable local charities would give them that connection.

We called it First and 15, and the tournament was scheduled to follow the Orange and Blue football game in April. We prayed that it wouldn’t rain . . . but it did. Still, we had a tremendous time, raising over $13,000 for the designated charities. We were pleased, considering it was our first effort. Ryan Moseley, Florida’s student-body president, and David Sinopoli, a marketing guru, headed the group that was making it all happen. The three of us met with all the sororities on campus to encourage them to partner together and with us for this worthwhile effort.

At a fancy banquet, the sorority that raised the most money and brought the most girls had the first selection of a Florida football player to be their coach. Percy Harvin went first, while the Pounceys went together to the second sorority. As for me, I couldn’t be chosen since I was the head.

As a result of a number of things we learned, and by getting others on campus involved, we were better positioned for an even more financially successful event the next year. Not only had we been through it once, but the TriDelt that single-handedly carried her team to victory, Beth, was so excited about First and 15 that she volunteered to head it up for 2009.

Back on the football field,
the team that was getting ready for the 2008 season looked a lot different than the 2007 team. Our workouts were crazier, and the internal competitions were far more intense. In fact, the previous year didn’t even begin to compare to what the team was doing in 2008. Not even close. We knew we had a different team.

Simply put, we seemed to have a better, more committed bunch of guys. When you’ve got a core group that believes in the cause, shares the values and vision of the team, and is dying to win a championship, then you have the right chemistry to go all the way. Strong leaders encourage you to do things for your own benefit, not just theirs. And with the right kind of encouraging, equipping, and passionate and visionary leadership, the people who are still sitting on the fence will eventually get off and start working hard, going to class, putting forth an effort, and watching film. Or they will quit. Either way the result is good for the team. That’s because the team is now left only with members who are all pulling together in the same direction, believing in the vision, and willing to do what it takes to achieve it. Along the way, they also have a positive influence on one another. They indeed begin to do the right thing.

We had more of that, and more team members who were leading by example. This time around, when it got hard, guys weren’t quitting or doing stupid stuff. That made a big difference, especially on the defensive side of the ball. Brandon Spikes became a leader others were willing to emulate. He always loved to play football, to hit people, but he wasn’t a big fan of everything else—all the stuff it took to be even better than you naturally were: lifting, running, and training. Although Spikes was gifted enough that he could get away without doing all of that, all those other guys couldn’t. They naturally couldn’t play like he could. When the coaches got Spikes to buy into being a leader, work even harder, and realize that others on the team were watching, that was an important breakthrough for the 2008 team. That’s when Brandon began to realize his God-given potential—not just to be good but to be the best he could be—and that’s when we began to see the potential in that 2008 football team.

Once a week for the entire season, Coach Mick had a leadership group meeting during which he’d share a story or tell how we could do something to improve the team. He was also looking for input into ways we felt we could make the team better. Throughout the season, the leadership group meetings set out and defined a lot of things that the team ended up doing that year—from preparing for games to interacting with one another to growing into being the best we could be. The group also encouraged guys to take a step of faith and move up in the leadership role. Spikes was initially a reluctant leader, but he stepped forward, learned, and grew into it; as a result, he helped others become better on and off the field. The Pounceys were natural leaders and were so encouraging and caring that others just naturally wanted to follow their example of hard work and striving toward excellence.

The whole team began to bond and was working extremely hard individually and together. The Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre—as it was affectionately called—was such a hard workout conducted, of course, in February, that it became a thing of legend and an immediate bonding experience. It was so difficult that Omarius Hines had his knee swell up and the trainers and medical staff had to cut into his leg to drain the fluid that had accumulated. It was a big deal. And throughout it all, people were saying, “
We’re not going to lose in the fourth quarter.”
You could see a change in the team that was tangible and inspirational. Months later, when we converted on fourth down on offense, or stopped them on third down on defense, we had actually already assured that achievement during our off-season workouts many months earlier.

We did Midnight Lifts in the summer that were particularly rigorous. And, of course, at midnight. We had the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre, the Harley Davidson Workout, and a few other Friday workouts that were particularly hard. The Friday workouts in the off-season were usually the hardest. We also held an annual strength competition that I made sure to win, including my freshman year over Brandon Siler.

Some of the workouts screamed accountability while also working our bodies to the point of exhaustion. We’d each have a partner, and our exercises and the length and intensity of them would be linked to how our partner performed. For instance, Coach Mick would make one guy of a particular partnership push a forty-five-pound plate, flat on the floor, around the perimeter of our weight room. And it’s a big weight room. Very big. Because the guy pushing the weight around was bent at the waist, it was working his legs, as well as his shoulders and back, among many other areas.

He was always working on his speed, too, because when he began, his partner was doing a seated wall squat with a sandbag on his thighs. The partner pushing the forty-five-pound plate around the floor of the weight room, therefore, wanted to go as fast as he could so his partner holding the sandbag on his thighs, in an excruciating wall squat, could get some relief as soon as possible. And he couldn’t move from that squat until his partner returned from pushing the weight around the room.

Accountability. That would carry over onto the field throughout this season, which at the moment was beginning to have all the earmarks of being very special.

Coach Mick loved those sorts of workouts.

Other workouts would take place when just Coach Mick and I were working on our own and he’d be naming off other quarterbacks in college football, saying, “Do one for him . . . do one for him. Do one more for Stafford. Do one more for Bradford. And one more for McCoy.”

Those workouts always gave me more confidence, because they consisted of things I either wouldn’t do on my own or wouldn’t even consider doing because they hurt so badly. But I would do it for Coach Mick. And in the process of going beyond where I thought I could go, I started to develop more confidence in my ability and the stamina to handle whatever I might face—be it in a game, a classroom, or any other setting. There’s no way I would have accomplished the things I have in my career if I hadn’t trained like that and always pushed myself to do something beyond what I’d done before.

It wasn’t all work during the spring preparation for the 2008 season. I also had classes, of course, and other stuff. One weekend in the spring, Robby got a call from one of the guys with Rascal Flatts, telling him they’d be in Tampa with Darius Rucker and asking if we’d like to come. We had met them on a prior trip they’d made to Jacksonville for a concert, and we had become friends with them.

I could hear the guy, Gary LeVox, as Robby was talking with him, and I was yelling, “Tell him yes! Darius Rucker is awesome!” In the meantime, Gary was telling Robby that Darius was a fan of mine and was hoping to meet us; so we headed down there to play golf—me, Robby, and Bryan Craun, a friend from Jacksonville—and meet up with Darius Rucker and Rascal Flatts.

As it turns out, Darius is very competitive on the golf course and was more than willing to pop off about his alma mater, the University of South Carolina. We had a good time on a beautiful day, with views looking out over Tampa Bay. That night we went to the concert and sat on the edge of the stage. Darius pulled me out at one point to join him on a song—anybody who heard me sing “I’m Still a Guy” onstage with Brad Paisley knows that I prefer staying in the background at concerts, but as always, we had a fun night.