Through My Eyes Part 9

So . . . if you've got a signed University of Florida Cracker Barrel mug from three days after Thanksgiving 2007, I apologize. At least my signature on the mug is real.

When the store sold out all their Gators stuff, the manager excitedly came over to tell me. The crowd died down, and we went to pay for our meal. But the manager pointed to a man in the parking lot and told us that he'd taken care of it.

I ran out to him and thanked him and asked if he wanted anything signed. He didn't-he just wanted to give something to us. He was very gracious and said it was his way of thanking us for being good role models for his grandchildren who were attending the University of Florida. I asked if he wouldn't mind calling my father and telling him that, since it would earn me a dollar. My dad refused to pay me, saying that the character-compliment payment program of earlier in our lives had long ago expired. The character thing though-well, he fully expected that to continue.

In fact, I had to run back inside and pay for my meal, even though it had already been paid for. I'm glad I realized that, otherwise, I was going to have Jeremy Foley, Florida's athletic director, or Jamie McCloskey, UF's a.s.sociate athletic director for compliance, at my door for taking "improper benefits."

That was the first game that I remember being in a whirlwind of media interest for a lot of different reasons. It was, of course, the last game of the season before our bowl game. Postseason awards were now on everyone's agenda in college football, and I was blessed to have been included in the consideration for a number of them. I had to go to Orlando for the Home Depot College Football Awards ceremony, and then on to New York the following day for the Heisman Trophy award ceremony.

As I was flying around to different places for those events and also to do things for the university, Tennessee was preparing to play in the SEC Championship Game in Atlanta-the same Tennessee team we'd beaten 5920. That was a bit frustrating to watch, as getting to the SEC Championship Game was our primary team goal every single year, and with a 53 conference record-with losses to Auburn, LSU, and Georgia-that wasn't going to happen that year.

The Heisman Trophy Award ceremony was unlike anything I'd experienced before. I'd never been to New York City, and, of course, our whole family went. We received the invitation on Wednesday, had to go to Orlando on Thursday for the Home Depot College Football Awards ceremony that day, and then the Heisman ceremony was on Sat.u.r.day. I was excited that my parents, Robby, Peter, Katie and Gannon, and their daughter Abby would all be able to make it, but with that late notice, it didn't look as though my sister Christy and her husband, Joey, would be able to attend since they were missionaries in Southeast Asia. Uncle Bill Heavener, who, I'm told, is not really my uncle, helped arrange extra tickets for the ceremony, and once he had them, he called Christy and Joey at 4:30 in the morning on Friday, asking if they'd like to come. There were only three flights per week from where they were, and the last one left at 7:30 that morning. Three hours off. There were two seats left on the flight, so Christy and Joey made it, along with Claire, their daughter, who was small enough to sit on their laps. Ironically, they beat my parents to New York.

We had a great time there as a family. Immediately after arriving, we gathered and Dad prayed that we would be able to let our light shine during the ceremony and throughout the weekend, win or lose. It wouldn't have been the same without my entire family, including Christy and Joey. Coach Howard and Coach Mick were there and Coach Meyer, too, who had brought his entire family. I certainly view them as part of my family as well. Our loud, gregarious group enjoyed our time with Colt Brennan, Darren McFadden, Chase Daniel, and their families-they were great.

At one point on Sat.u.r.day night at a reception before the presentation ceremony, we were at the Nokia Theater with twenty-seven prior Heisman Trophy winners. We were pinching ourselves; my dad turned to me and said, "Can you believe that we're even here? And that these guys are actually talking . . . to us?"

We had so much fun, and right before the ceremony started, Danny Wuerffel, who was there as a prior winner grabbed me, took me into a room in the back, and prayed with me. It was a calming, very special moment with someone I respected, someone who had taken an interest in me since I was in high school.

It was a thrill for me-for all of us-to win. I'd spent a great deal of time thinking about what I wanted to say, about my family, my university, and my coaches and team, and my relationship with G.o.d. I received some positive comments afterward from a number of those in attendance about my acceptance speech-I don't think they realized how long I'd been practicing, from my time sharing Christ as a youngster in the Philippines to that first public speaking cla.s.s with Professor Webster at the University of Florida.

That's also the time when more details of the matters surrounding my birth began to come out. Until then, Mom and Dad would simply say that it was a tough pregnancy and that they, the family, and lots of friends were praying that she would give birth to a healthy son that they would raise as a preacher. In a piece that was to air on ESPN during the Heisman Trophy ceremony, the producer kept asking me questions about the circ.u.mstances surrounding my birth, and I told her all I knew-that my parents were told to terminate the pregnancy. She was fascinated with that bit of information, and that detail made it into the Heisman show. As it turned out, a huge viewing audience saw that show, and so the story of my birth ended up generating a great deal of additional interest. It provided a platform on national television for a pro-life message, and now it provides my mom with opportunities to speak to a variety of groups all over the country.

The next morning, our group of family members who had gathered in New York to share in this moment, headed to the Tavern on the Green restaurant in Central Park on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, for brunch. We've seen over the years that, in a group setting, people always call on the minister who might be with them to pray, even though the Lord is thrilled to hear from any of us who call on Him. It's like he or she becomes the designated pray-er, the expert.

Our family's approach is different. If we're with a group, we always look for the person most likely to be uncomfortable praying in public and ask that person to pray for us. This time, it was my brother-in-law, Gannon Shepherd, who is married to my sister, Katie. Compared to us, he's simply a newer Christian, so we tried to catch him off guard. Strange sense of family humor, I know. Gannon offered a nice prayer, and it was clear he knew he was not talking to us but to G.o.d, but when he asked that the Lord "let blessings rain down," my brothers and I cracked up and spent the rest of the weekend calling out to him or in his presence, "Let it rain!" We were merciless.

Maybe not our finest moment, but what are brothers-in-law for, anyway?

Later that day, I was asked to sign memorabilia, along with the other Heisman winners who were in New York City for that weekend of festivities surrounding the Heisman Trophy Award ceremony. We found ourselves alone with Herschel Walker, the University of Georgia's great running back. That was one of the most memorable times of my college career, spending time and listening to him reminisce about how he came to attend Georgia and describe some of the highlights of his long and spectacular college and professional football career.

It was even more special for us because my dad had always held Herschel out as the weight-free model for me to aspire to be like in my exercise and weight-training programs, when I was still too young to lift weights: "Remember, Herschel Walker became the best player in America by doing push-ups and sit-ups, just like you are . . ." I can still hear him today.

I'd heard people say that we had beaten Ohio State the year before because Troy Smith, their quarterback who had won the Heisman, had gained fifteen pounds on the banquet-speaking circuit afterward. I don't know if that was true or not, but if it was, I was very motivated to not let anything like that happen to me even though it was very easy to see how it could. I had to take the eating easy, because my exercise regimen declined considerably with my travel. I ended up only practicing a little bit for the University of Michigan, the team we would face in the Capital One Bowl in Orlando, because of my broken hand. But I was still catching b.a.l.l.s with my left hand and throwing them back with the same hand, of course, in practice.

I was also doing the banquet circuit, however. I was a Walter Camp All-American, won the O'Brien Award (where we got to hang out with Troy Aikman), the Maxwell Award, the first of two ESPYs, and won the Sullivan Award as the best amateur athlete, which hadn't been won by a football player since Peyton Manning ten years earlier. All were terrifically fun, and we made some great friendships. The Barbosas, who administered the Walter Camp Award, stayed in touch and ended up coming down to Gainesville for games the next season.

We also received a letter from a family who said that their son had accepted Christ after watching my Heisman acceptance speech. That made all the hectic pace of the travel worth every minute.

When we arrived in Orlando for the Capital One Bowl against Michigan, we had a pretty full schedule of events and appearances. Bowl games can be a lot of fun, but they also can wear you out, because the bowl organizers ask for so many appearances. Some days are so tightly scheduled that you go from one appearance to another to another. Mix in a little practice and then wonder why at the end of the day you collapse exhausted in bed. And I still was having trouble practicing. Being hurt and not at full strength was frustrating.

That year, the Bowl organizers had arranged for our entire team to go to a theme park two nights before the game, but I wasn't going to go. I still get dizzy on roller coasters, so I figured it was a good night to stay in my room and get some much needed rest. Right before they left, though, Officer Stacy called me in my room and said that the head of the amus.e.m.e.nt park had been calling for the last hour trying to get me there. Officer Stacy didn't want to put any pressure on me but was simply pa.s.sing along their request.

"They just want to meet you," Stacy said. "They also want you to come in so they can actually advertise to the world and say that you're there-that's it."

I have a really hard time turning people down, which, depending on the situation, can either be a good or bad quality. And so I quickly got dressed and went to meet them, but I knew that if they asked me to get on a ride, I'd tell them I get motion sickness. Once I arrived, they were so excited that I was there that-you guessed it-they asked me to please try out their new ride, that it was awesome. I looked to Officer Stacy for help, and he tried, but I finally agreed to go for a ride on it. The head of security and the guy managing the ride that night went with me, and we skipped past all those waiting in line and ended up at the front of the line at the new roller coaster.

Even worse was that because of being able to get to the front of the line, we were on the front row of the front car of the new roller coaster-all of which I feared was bound to bring on one of my dizzy spells.

I knew this was going to be bad. Very bad. As we took off, I was gripping the bar tightly as the roller coaster began by not only taking us up, but also rolling around and around as it climbed. Over and over, around and around the new-and I'm sure fabulous-ride went for what had to be the longest roller-coaster ride ever. When we finally pulled in after enduring the ride, standing there was an array of folks sporting cameras, taking pictures, and shouting "Tebow . . . Tebow . . . Tebow."

I said, anxiously yet as calmly as I could, "Officer Stacy, I'm going to throw up everywhere. The faster you can get me out of here, the better chance the theme-park folks don't see me throwing up all over the place after a trip on their new ride."

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 b.u.mper 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 4135 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 l.u.s.ter. 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.

Chapter Fifteen.

Doing the Right Thing.

Since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every enc.u.mbrance 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 G.o.d.

-HEBREWS 12:12.

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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d intended them to be when He created them.

I truly believe that the G.o.d 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. G.o.d 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 G.o.d's story, like: "The best dad out there-G.o.d-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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d created them to be.

Not long after our bowl game against Michigan, Zack and I sat down with Jamie McCloskey, Florida's senior a.s.sociate 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 d.i.c.k'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 compet.i.tions 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 pa.s.sionate and visionary leadership, the people who are still sitting on the fence will eventually get off and start working hard, going to cla.s.s, 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 G.o.d-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 Ma.s.sacre-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 acc.u.mulated. 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 a.s.sured 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 Ma.s.sacre, 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 compet.i.tion 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 cla.s.sroom, 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 cla.s.ses, 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 compet.i.tive 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.

Chapter Sixteen.

An Inauspicious Start.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more.

-LUKE 12:48.

All summer, I kept the workouts going-even when I traveled for a combination of mission trips and vacations for a total of three weeks that off-season. I was able to do it because my brothers helped me with the workouts at every stop on the trip; I was not about to lose the edge I'd built up with my teammates in the spring. And so I trained in London, Croatia, Bosnia, Thailand, the Philippines, and in the airport terminal in Frankfurt, Germany. Seven countries in three weeks, if you include the United States. Our workouts consisted of exercises with whatever equipment we could find: stairs, chin-up bars, or rough mountain roads. The materials for the workouts didn't matter; what mattered was making sure that I got them in.

Even more important than training is having the mind-set to want to do it. Coach Mick let me borrow a book called The Edge. He keeps reminding me to give it back-I'm sure I will . . . one of these days. The book is full of great motivational quotes, like "The Man in the Gla.s.s." During a workout, Coach Mick would say, "Are you going to regret what you see in the mirror tonight?" I worked harder.

Coach Mick and I had a really unique relationship. You might think that because I won the Heisman I could do most anything I wanted. Instead, I found that if everyone else worked out a certain way and for a certain time and number of reps, I felt as though, to be worthy as a leader, I would have to double their efforts. Coach Mick encouraged that side of me, but then he'd take it even further because that's just the way he'd push me. If I ever made an excuse that I'd already done more than anybody else, he'd respond with, "Oh, so you only want to be as good as everybody else."

It was hard to tell which one of us was more obsessive than the other.

Working like that gives you such a confidence to be able to overcome anything you face. You really are overpreparing and readying yourself for any eventuality. You don't care how hard you get hit, because you've already faced harder situations over and over while working out or practicing. By overcoming all those, I knew I was more prepared to overcome whatever I faced. Coach Mick often preached to me about a quote from Michael Jordan, and being willing to take a risk: I've missed more than nine thousand shots in my career. I've lost almost three hundred games. Twenty-six times, I've been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.

As this chapter's opening scripture says, to whom much is given much is expected. I've heard that scripture since I was a young boy. There's a spiritual aspect to that, of course, which we read about in the story of the talents in Matthew 25:1430. The basic lesson of the parable for me is that if G.o.d gave us specific talents (abilities), He wants us to maximize our talents and not bury or waste them. He wants us to go out there and double them. I think part of that is to go out there and continue to work-regardless of whether anyone is watching. This isn't just about when we're out there with cameras rolling and pointed in our faces. I may say I'm playing for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. True. But it's not just that. It's about going out every day, in every setting, and working hard. It's about being dedicated and playing hard because I honestly believe that G.o.d receives joy when He sees me doing that with the skills he blessed me with. When you, too, do that, He sees you living the life He has given you and loving and respecting the abilities He's given you by working as hard as you possibly can to improve them.

In middle school, my mom a.s.signed me to do a report on Eric Liddell, of Chariots of Fire fame. I was impressed by his courage of convictions, and I really identified with his statement, "I believe G.o.d made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure." I always thought since G.o.d gave these gifts to me, my role in that exchange was to play as hard as I could and continue giving Him the honor and glory for it. To me that would be the very best way of thanking Him for the ability. If I didn't work as hard as I knew I could, then I think it would be a little bit like saying, "G.o.d, thanks for giving me this ability, but I don't really care about it. I'm going to do something else, and I'm not going to work quite as hard."

As you can probably guess, my view leads to constantly evaluating my performance and the performances of those I count on. I was two things to this team: a leader and a Christian. As a leader, I needed to be in front and set an example. As a Christian, I needed to lead in a manner that was pleasing to Christ. This ethic can lead to conflict if those around me do not agree.

A good example of this conflict came when I was a freshman. The team was running the stadium steps one morning around six o'clock. We always began our workout when it was still dark in the Swamp. I was determined to finish first; however, to make it more meaningful, I wanted to start in the back. As I would pa.s.s each player going up the stadium steps, I would encourage them to push harder. One teammate was offended by my comments. He gave me a real bad look and said he was doing what he thought was right. I kept going and finished a long time before he did. In the locker room, and well after everyone else had gone, I asked why he was not running any harder.

To my surprise, he used G.o.d in his explanation. He said, "G.o.d told me this morning to stay back and run with this guy because I needed to encourage him."

To be honest, I was livid. Here was a very talented athlete, a team leader, and an outspoken Christian believing G.o.d wanted him to be a bad example to the team. You can see the conflict in our thinking.

I may have overstepped, but as a leader and fellow Christian, I felt I needed to confront him. I told him that he was being extremely lazy and inappropriately using G.o.d as an excuse. "If you want to bring G.o.d and spirituality into this, then you need to obey the authorities that G.o.d has put into your life. Coach Mick and Coach Meyer are your authorities, and to not work hard after they specifically told everyone to do so, and called you out about your low effort, is wrong. Because they told you that, it is not acceptable to say that G.o.d told you to stay back and run with someone to influence or encourage him."

After pausing to let all this sink in, I added, "Maybe if you ran harder, you would influence that person to run harder himself. You are not being a good leader to anyone by being lazy, and using G.o.d as an excuse is unacceptable."

If this incident on the stadium steps was the only example of this att.i.tude, I would not have mentioned it. Though it sounds harsh to say, I feel this guy's public walk was not matching his talk at all. He was always inviting guys to go to church but as a couple of us would tell him, "We need you to go to cla.s.s because there are many guys here who will follow the example you set and do what you do, or don't do. So if you begin to do the right thing, they, in turn, will begin to do the right thing by following you." He would sleep in and arrive late to meetings or miss cla.s.s and use the excuse that he was up late at a Christian meeting on campus. Then, his entire running group on the football team would have to run extra as punishment because he missed cla.s.s. Everyone in the group knew the truth, and having to run for his lack of commitment and his lack of integrity did not sit well with them.

We had several talks after that incident on the stadium steps, but he never changed his att.i.tude, and I never viewed his lackadaisical approach or religious excuses as acceptable.

Similarly, we'd be in the weight room and Coach Mick would tell us to do fifteen reps. I'd stand behind this guy, and he'd do twelve, then stop; I'd ask if he did them all, and he'd say, "Yeah."

In general, I don't care for cheaters and liars, but I have a much higher standard for people who profess to be Christians. This guy was a particular challenge for me. Part of leadership is understanding those we are trying to lead-what makes them tick, what will help them share the vision-and I simply never got to that position where I understood him. To me, our Christian witness matters, and it's what people see when they are watching us. When we think we can do less than our best, when we think others are not watching, we're cheating ourselves and the G.o.d who created us.

To me, the best example for being tough and bold and being a Christian is, of course, demonstrated by my Savior, Jesus Christ. It's important to stand behind what you believe in, and sometimes there are some judgment calls to be made-I understand that. Growing up, there were always those people who didn't think that my parents should let me play sports because I sometimes missed Sunday-night church when I was in a championship game, or I would go to Wednesday-night football practice instead of Wednesday-night church service. But no matter where I was physically, my parents were always working on my heart and trying to balance that with the right amount of fellowship and growth.

This team member became a burden on my heart that never really changed. Coach Meyer could never get through to him, either, and I know it weighed on him too. So much potential wasted. As you can tell by now, this guy's att.i.tude was driving me crazy, and if it had been up to me, you can imagine he probably wouldn't have been on our team if he hadn't changed his ways.

In the meantime, however, we had other guys who were learning about matters of faith and growing in that faith. They were going to be accountable to do what was right, to do their best, because they cared about the persons next to them. I know that is a lot of what Jesus would have talked about and actually did talk about.

When I was growing up, my parents knew how compet.i.tive I was and how I always wanted to win, so they tried to point out that truth within the teachings of Christianity as well. They challenged me to win rewards in heaven and to compete for those, so G.o.d will say, "Well done, My good and faithful servant." Whatever you do, do it with all your heart.

From the time we were very young, Mom and Dad would talk to us about sticking up for someone who was being bullied, talking to someone whom no one else would talk to, or befriending a kid who wasn't popular at church. My parents would see us trying to do those things and would reinforce those behaviors by telling us that G.o.d will honor that action of showing His love to others as much as anything else we might do for Him. I think we should hear a lot more of that in church, or perhaps we do and I missed those times. Things like encouraging the guys who are down after practice, or talking to a kid who's sick, or making friends with the kids who aren't cool, even though it's not your first reaction. Most of the time you end up having better relationships with those kids and you find out they really are cool.

In spending time talking to sick kids, I find that I get more joy in those moments than I could have imagined. Usually, you kind of go in because you think it's right and a.s.sume they will be better for the time you spent with them. But then when you leave, you find yourself thinking, That wasn't the right thing just for him, it was the right thing for me. And you leave better and blessed.

I also have a heart for people who can't defend themselves or are not really good in sports. They tend to be taken advantage of and mistreated-bullied even. I try to stand up for them as I've always thought that's the right thing to do. If G.o.d has given me the strength and the courage to play sports, the least I can do is stand up for the people who don't have others to do it for them. That applies to any setting-whether it's a Sunday-school cla.s.s or a sports team, the worst player on the team or the best player having a bad day. That's what my dad always said to us: try to make others feel how important they are, and find a way to make them feel involved in whatever you and your friends are doing. The message to us in living life was always about simply doing the right thing. That honored G.o.d.

And doing all those things that your coach or your parents or others in authority had asked you to do would also be honoring G.o.d. Doing what is right and doing what others in authority ask you to do demonstrates a way of treating other people the way you want to be treated.

By the time fall was upon us, all our preparation was paying off in the confidence we had in our strength, stamina, and ability. We were ready to start the season-hungrier than we'd been all of last year. We opened the season with Hawaii, but unfortunately, it was a home game. Talk about a missed opportunity.

Last year, leading up to the Heisman, June Jones, their head coach, was trying to pay a compliment to his quarterback, Colt Brennan, but in the process, he singled me out and not necessarily in a complimentary way. On ESPN one day I heard Coach Jones say that I was just a "system quarterback." I wasn't sure why he felt the need to label me and diminish my play, but he later said that wasn't what he was trying to do at all. In any event, I was looking forward to playing against his team. Unfortunately, he took the head job at Southern Methodist University before we had the chance to play Hawaii.

It was probably for the best.

We didn't play particularly well against the Warriors from the Islands, but we still won, 5610. Interestingly, most teams talk trash-at least a little. Not these guys-not one word. We were a little concerned because we were playing Miami the next weekend. We weren't quite there in our execution: my timing with the receivers, my accuracy, or our connection. Fortunately, the defense played very well.