Number 49

When I arrived at the New York Giants’ rookie camp, the equipment staff had set up everyone’s locker. We had brand new cleats, turf shoes, football pants, pads, shorts, undershirts, you name it, everything was there. It was a far cry from my humble Mississippi Pride “professional” experience. But, the main attraction was the practice jersey. It had my last name proudly emblazoned above the number 49.

25 years ago rules and traditions dictated that specific numbers were associated with various positions. Typically, tight ends and receivers wore numbers in the eighties. With a roster of 5 tight ends and over 10 receivers, there weren’t enough numbers. That the equipment staff’s pick for me was number 49, was emblematic of my position in the organization. No one was expecting me to make it through camp.

After rookie camp, there was veterans’ camp, immediately followed by preseason camp. I continued to apply all the lessons previously learned: I did hard things with enthusiasm, learned to learn with discipline, controlled the things I could while working to let go of things I couldn’t, continued to have a curiosity and exercise resourcefulness and initiative, constantly grateful for the opportunity to play with the goal of establishing myself in a NFL franchise and using that influence to have a positive impact on the community.

After playing well in practice and two preseason games, I was moved up to the number four position on the depth chart. Back then, the starters played the majority of game in week 3, but in camp that week, two of the three tight ends ahead of me were injured so they did not dress for the game. Going into the game as the second tight end and first pass receiving tight end, I had a few key catches and blocks.

My friends described hall of fame quarterback and announcer Phil Simms shuffling through the roster trying to figure out what my name was after a diving catch. By the third big play, the announcers were saying those are the types of plays that earn you a roster spot (they love talking about that stuff in the preseason). This game was the first time anyone, except my father and me, was truly convinced I had a chance to make an NFL roster.

Since that was a Monday night away game, we arrived back at camp in the early morning hours on Tuesday and had only meetings that day. Wednesday we were back on the practice field in pads and I was still playing with the first-string team. It was the dog days of camp and everyone was tired. The veterans were sore from their three-quarter game effort and ready to go home so practice was lethargic. I was lined up across from Michael Strahan and he was clearly coasting. Like the rest of the team’s veterans, he wanted to have a gentlemanly practice with the understanding that if I didn’t make him look bad, he wasn’t going to make me look bad. However, I wasn’t in a position to play this way, nor was it in my nature, so I kept playing hard.

Because Strahan was a great player (he had set the NFL record for sacks the previous season) and had a lot of pride in his game, despite being tired and sore, he was not going to let the undrafted rookie, wearing #49, beat him. As we got after it, he became so frustrated with my constant effort that he pushed me at the end of one play. I responded in kind and and a fight ensued. Since the culture of camp involves pitting the offense against the defense, essentially establishing two teams within a team, it didn’t matter that I was fighting the team captain. I was the offense’s guy so they jumped into the fight to defend me, and the defense did the same to support Strahan. As is almost always the case, the staff separated the players quickly and practice resumed, albeit with a new found energy and a lot more physicality between whistles. 

I didn’t know it then but I had earned myself a role on the team. I had demonstrated that I could contribute to the starting offense in the Monday night preseason game and that subsequent Wednesday, I had made an all-pro so concerned about looking bad on practice film that his frustration resulted in a scuffle. 

With all three tight ends healthy, I was placed on the extended roster (practice squad comprised of five men at that stage in the NFL) and one of the members of the staff approached me with a few 80’s numbers from players who had been released. When he asked me which number I wanted, I told him I’d keep 49. The Giants won the NFC Championship that year. In the Super Bowl team photo, I am proudly donning the number 49 jersey. A number that, on the one hand, portrayed the organization’s lack of faith in my ability to make the team, yet on the other, served as a symbol of my relentless pursuit of my passion and, in doing so, represented my journey well.

I eventually made an NFL active roster and played in the NFL for three seasons, wearing several different eighties numbers. The number 49 jersey was my favorite.

When my football path ended, I applied the same principles to hone a second craft in contribution to another team that was in pursuit of championship play – Spiral up