Coming Back Stronger (19 page)

In a way, our team is a microcosm of New Orleans as a whole. As is the case for the city, we all hail from a variety of backgrounds, but we have melded together into a unified and distinct culture. And like New Orleans, most of our players have had their share of adversity along the way.

When you look only on the surface, you have no idea what challenges a guy has faced in his life. When you see the talent on our team, you probably wouldn’t guess that some of our best players were late-round draft picks or weren’t drafted at all. They had to battle every inch of the way to even get a chance at playing. Many of them were, at one point in their careers, the last roster spot or relegated to the practice squad. Others were released and “out on the street,” with no team to call home. They were essentially kicked in the gut and told, You’re really not good enough to be in the NFL. Some Saints players had to fight their way back from a really tough injury, like I did, and defy those who said they would never recover. Forget the draft rankings—these are the guys you want on your side. You know what they’ve been through—and how much stronger they are because of it. And when you go through tough times together, there’s nothing that unites you more.

One of our outstanding running backs is Pierre Thomas. He was an undrafted free agent who came to New Orleans in 2007. At the time we had just drafted a running back in the fourth round, and Pierre was really fighting for the fifth spot. There are only three spots guaranteed on the roster for a running back. With four other guys ahead of him, he had to be thinking, There’s no way I’m going to make this team. His chances looked pretty bleak. But Pierre had an optimistic attitude that defied his circumstances. He believed that if he did things the right way and kept his chin up and gave it everything he had, good things were bound to happen. Sure enough, we found a spot for him. You make room for guys like that. He gave us no other choice—he had too big of a heart and he fought too hard for us to let him walk away.

Pierre’s attitude toward his work was refreshing because he consistently communicated, I don’t care where I play—just put me anywhere. I want to help. He started off playing on every special teams unit and finally got the opportunity to start at running back the last game of the 2007 season when other players were out due to injury. He had over one hundred yards in both rushing and receiving against Chicago, which was something no Saint had ever done. Nothing has ever been given to Pierre—he’s had to earn it all. He wasn’t born on third base, as our linebackers coach Joe Vitt would say. He’s had to fight tooth and nail just to get into the batter’s box. Those are the kinds of people you want on your team. Those are the kinds of people you root for.

Marques Colston was a seventh-round pick out of Hofstra in 2006. When he first came to us, I didn’t even know his name until midway through training camp, when he was about the only receiver who was healthy. He was playing every position he was asked to play and catching every ball I threw to him. Who is this guy? I thought. Where did he come from? I love stories of guys who played at small schools, weren’t highly touted, and were drafted low. Marques was almost drafted as Mr. Irrelevant, which is the nickname given to the last pick in the draft every year. They give an award for it and everything. Not really something you strive for, but if you look at it in the right way, that chip on your shoulder can serve as positive motivation.

We had no expectations about a guy who came in as the 252nd pick, but he approached every task assigned to him with such class. It was really because of his emergence that we traded Donté Stallworth to Philly at the end of training camp in 2006. We knew Marques could be a special player, and he proved himself by catching a record number of balls in his first two seasons. And in an era of flamboyant receivers who tend to revel in on-field antics and off-field drama, you’d be lucky to hear Marques say more than a few words. He is humble, but at the same time he remains hungry. If you saw him practice today, you’d be amazed to note that he still works like the rookie who came in fighting for a spot on the team in 2006. There is always something to prove.

One of my best friends from the team is Billy Miller, a tight end from USC who was drafted by the Broncos in 1999. At six foot three and 220 pounds then, Billy started off as a receiver but soon realized that his best chance to make it in the NFL would be to bulk up and play tight end. He played in Denver, Houston, and Cleveland before coming to New Orleans, and with each move he had to fight to claim a place on the team. There were plenty of times throughout his career when he could have easily given up because the pressure was too much or the coach was too hard or the injury he was fighting was too painful. But each time he went through such an ordeal, he looked back at all he’d been through in the past. Experience told him he had what it took to pull through again. Plus, Billy made sure there were a few specific things he had mastered that he could do better than anyone else. Don’t get me wrong—he worked to be good at everything, but he made sure that those were his plays and his opportunity to contribute to the team in a big way. Those pass plays of his became our bread and butter, and I have never had more confidence throwing to a guy.

As I look at the players who make it into the NFL and last more than a couple of years, I notice a consistent thread. It’s not always the first-round picks and the most naturally gifted players who rise to the top. It’s often the journeymen—the ones who persevere through trials and are able to handle the unexpected challenges that come their way.

When I was a kid, I tended to be the best athlete at school or on the team. I was picked first for dodgeball or kickball or whatever we were playing in the schoolyard. Even in high school, things came fairly easily for me . . . until the ACL injury my junior year, that is. But in a strange way, I am actually thankful for that injury, in that it allowed me to learn how to face adversity at a young age. Would I quit, or would I fight through it? From my perspective, it’s when the rug gets pulled out from under you that you really find your calling in life. Those defining moments don’t have to be tragedies. When they’re viewed through the lens of God’s plans, they can be “points of purpose” in your life.

I really believe adversity is a path to opportunity. But sometimes it’s difficult in the moment to see that God has a bigger vision for the future than you can grasp. It may be years before you can look back and truly appreciate the journey God has taken you on. And usually, it’s one you wouldn’t have chosen. I wouldn’t have chosen an ACL injury or a dislocated throwing shoulder, but those were the cards that were dealt. The only choice I did have was what I would do with that adversity when it came my direction. I also learned that despite the circumstances you find yourself in, it’s wise to worry only about the things you can control. You can’t control if you get injured or if the team decides to draft someone else to take your job, but you can control your attitude and your preparation. Every day you can dedicate yourself to becoming the best you can be. Thinking about it now, I’m grateful for the way those difficult experiences transformed my personal life—and how the same thing can be true for other people.

Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t had that injury at the end of the 2005 season. If I hadn’t had to walk that road of recovery, I certainly wouldn’t have wound up in New Orleans and experienced the real life that sprang from that comeback. I wouldn’t have met the folks who are now my friends and teammates in New Orleans or had so many incredible opportunities that have come my way. And if I hadn’t had the injury in high school, I probably wouldn’t have attended Purdue and I wouldn’t have met Brittany. God used all those things to work together for good in my life, and I’m grateful not just for the victories but also for the tough times that guided me and helped me become who I am.

This principle that any situation, no matter how bad, can ultimately make you stronger isn’t only true on the football field. It applies to every facet of life, whether you’re battling an illness or dealing with a layoff or facing a financial setback. But just like in a game, it’s not enough to simply know it in your head; you have to take action. Knowledge alone doesn’t change anyone. You have to get to the point where you not only accept it but own it and put it into practice. That’s the only way you’ll see a change.

I can’t help but think of the people from New Orleans who were displaced by Katrina. It would have been easier for them to move to Atlanta or Houston long-term. But most people refused to do that. They came back, and they were determined to bring their city back. No matter how hard it was, they committed to making New Orleans better than it was before. I believe each one of us has a calling for our lives, and it’s up to us to pursue that with everything we have. In the end, there’s a reward for having done the right thing, the thing you were called to. When you do, your children and grandchildren and the generations to follow will be blessed by your actions.

Just about every important stage in my life has begun with a huge negative. Those were truly “why me” moments. Why do I have to go through this? Now I know that I am who I am because of those things. They gave me strength I didn’t have before. They helped me establish my identity and purpose in life, and they gave me perspective about the struggles that people face every day.

The next time you’re up against one of those difficult times, you might not be able to see it as an opportunity to gain power and confidence, but it is—you can bank on it. You have to prepare now to trust and have faith that it’s happening for a reason. And when it comes, you can lean into the adversity, put your shoulder down, push through it, and learn from it. Through those experiences, God will mold you into the person he wants you to be. The person you’re meant to be.

To my surprise, some of those challenges in my life have been the very things God has used to make me a better leader. The low points have given me the chance to regroup and refocus on what’s most important. And those experiences have also given me empathy for others when they are going through a tough situation.

Every team I’ve been on has taught me a lot about leadership—some examples I want to emulate and others I make a note to avoid. One principle I’ve learned is that a leader can’t ask anybody to do what he is not willing to do himself. As a quarterback, I know the guys on my team are looking to me to set the tone. For one thing, they want me to produce on the field. I touch the ball on every down and have to make the decision about who else is going to be involved in advancing the ball. My teammates are relying on me, and I have to be ready to play. But it’s not just about football. I also have a moral responsibility to model personal integrity, discipline, and the right attitude to the rest of my team. I have to manage my offense and breed confidence in those guys. If they see me getting flustered or pressed, that’s going to affect them negatively. They need to see me act cool and poised so they can do the same.

From my vantage point, I can see things throughout a game that others might not, so I can be a teacher to the guys. But it’s not a one-way deal. They see things from their perspective that I miss, and I need to be humble enough to listen and learn. Part of a quarterback’s job is to both coach and be coached.

Another thing I’ve learned about leadership is the importance of work ethic. Throughout the week of preparations before a game, I make it my goal to be one of the first ones to the practice facility in the morning and the last to leave. I stay late every day to practice my footwork, throw more routes, and talk through concepts with the receivers and coaches. That’s not heroic; it’s just part of the job. And it’s not for show. I know I always need to keep practicing and getting better and gaining more confidence. You are either getting better or getting worse, but you are never staying the same. When the guys observe that their quarterback is doing everything possible to help the team win and succeed, and when they realize he’s going to fight for them, they’ll play their hearts out for him. Leading by example is the only way I know how to lead.

In my role as a quarterback I’ve found it helps to understand each of the guys on my team. Every player is different—and not just physically. Through practice and trial and error, you discover how they’re most comfortable catching the ball. You also learn their mental and emotional makeup—how they respond to pressure, what pushes their buttons. You find out how they react when they miss an assignment or drop a pass. I also discovered early on that everyone is motivated in different ways. Some guys are spurred on when you get hyped up and loud and vocal, but others do better with a simple look or a nod. Other guys would rather have you pull them aside and talk with them in private.

One aspect of leadership a lot of people overlook is the importance of showing how much you care. When other people see that you are genuinely concerned about them and truly invested in them, they’ll trust you. There’s no faking it, and there’s no amount of talent that can make up for the lack of it. When your teammates know that you have their best interest at heart, the by-product is that they’ll go out there and fight for you. They’ll win for you.

Some people look at their home team and think, If only we had that free agent. If only our team could pay for that receiver or running back. I don’t waste time thinking about those kinds of acquisitions. If those players come to us, great. But here’s the way I look at it: I’ll take the less talented guy with the big heart every time. I love the old saying “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog.” Give me someone I can depend on so I know what I am getting every time, and I’ll show you a winner.

As history has proven time and time again, the most gifted athletes are not necessarily the ones who win championships. There’s a hidden factor that burns deep inside a player that you can’t see on a stat sheet or a highlight reel. When a bigger, prototypical quarterback looks at me from the other side of the field or when the crowd looks down as I’m walking into the stadium, I sometimes try to visualize what they’re thinking. Maybe they assume I’m too short for my position or that there’s no way I can get the job done. In my heart I know I’m going to show them something. I’ve got to prove myself every time I step onto the field. I know how hard I’ve worked, and I know how many people believe in me. I want the guys on my team to know I believe in them too. Whenever we walk out onto the field, we can hold our heads high, silently saying, You all haven’t seen anything yet.