The Quarterback Ch. 01

That Miami game really screwed with Jackson's mind. We lost to North Carolina State in our lowest-scoring game of the year, 7 - 3. I did not say anything before, during, or after the game. I figured if I kept my mouth shut, the coach would realize Jackson just was not ready. But Chad ran his mouth during and after the game. He did not endear himself to his teammates, but the coaches must have been listening. They started him against Clemson, and he was horrible in the first half. Going into the locker room at halftime, we were losing 27 - 10. And the ten points had come off an interception the defense ran in for a touchdown and a fumble recovered on Clemson's twenty-seven-yard line that we converted into a field goal.

The coaches had finally seen enough. They announced that I was starting the second half. As I looked around at my teammates, I was struck by the smiles in the locker room. I also noted the look of relief on Jackson's face and the anger on Chad's.

That my teammates were pleased I was going into the game gave me a boost of confidence. And the fact that we ran back the kickoff for a touchdown to start the second half put our momentum into high gear.

The defense held Clemson on the next series, and I engineered a drive from our twenty-two-yard line down the field for another score. Now it was just a three-point game, 27 - 24. On Clemson's next drive, they were able to kick a field goal. But that was all their scoring for the rest of the day. I was able to move our team down for two more touchdowns and a field goal. The final score was 41 - 30. I was now the starting quarterback for Florida State.

We won the rest of our games that season, including a 28 - 14 win over Florida. With a record of 8 - 3, we were invited to the Gator Bowl, where we would again face Michigan State. Jimmy was still playing for them as he had been "red-shirted" his freshman year. This simply meant that Jimmy's four years of eligibility would not start until his second year in college. He was also having the best year of his career as he had slightly over fourteen hundred receiving yards. This precipitated much discussion about him being taken in the first round of the NFL draft.

The Bowl game was not even close as we blew out Michigan State 31 - 14, but Jimmy scored both of Michigan State's touchdowns. I threw for three hundred and seven yards with one touchdown and an interception. Our ground game that day was impressive, eating up the clock and scoring three of our touchdowns.

With the season now over, I settled back into the academic side of my college career. Also, Staci was back at school, and we hooked up again. Strangely, however, she refused to talk about her illness. I figured she was embarrassed because she had caught the "kissing disease." So, I let the subject drop and never mentioned it.

My last semester in school was interesting. I was doing well in my classes but was up in the air about football. There were at least ten players on Florida State's team I felt would be drafted, but I did not consider myself among them. But when I received an invitation to the NFL Combine, I thought there might be a chance. I was totally surprised and honored to be invited. It was a big deal because the NFL only invited 335 college players to attend.

Each year, the Combine is held in Indianapolis in late February. All the coaches and scouts for all thirty-two NFL teams are there to watch the invited college players participate in a series of drills. It is a chance for the teams to talk to and get an up-close look at these players before the NFL Draft in April. I trained for it, but unfortunately, I got sick the week before and still was only at about eighty percent when I got to the Combine. Needless to say, I did not do well. I was disappointed because I knew I could have done much better.

When I returned from Indianapolis, Staci knew how disappointed I was. She immediately set about trying to cheer me up, and she succeeded. I was surprised to learn that Staci had watched the Combine on television. And yes, it is televised. Millions of people follow the NFL draft very closely. Staci's descriptions of what she had watched amused me greatly. I roared as Stace described one drill as a chicken desperately trying to escape from the farmer's ax.

As the semester began to wind down, both Staci and I had our studies well in hand. We had been dating the whole semester and had become intimate. Although we had not discussed it, as far as I knew, we were only dating each other. And each date seemed to cement our relationship more and more.

I only had one other NFL-related event to attend. Each university held a Pro Day for those players with a chance of playing in the NFL. The number of coaches attending these workouts was dependent on which players the teams were interested in. At Florida State that year, a dozen players would be working out. I was one of them.

I felt I did extremely well at Florida State's Pro Day, and a few coaches talked with me afterward. However, none of them told me that I would be drafted. In truth, I was not terribly disappointed because I thought my future lay elsewhere, including Staci and me getting married.

Staci and I finished our last exams the day before the draft started. A party had been organized in the lounge of the athlete's dorm. When I got there, the large-screen television on the wall was already tuned to the NFL network. However, the sound was muted as the draft had not started yet. Music was playing, drinks were available, and there was dancing. I grabbed a beer and started to look for Staci. My heart almost stopped when I found her. She was in the middle of the floor, dancing cheek to cheek with Jimmy.

I threw my beer into the garbage can and walked over to them. I felt my chest begin to contract with each step I took. When I was next to Staci, Jimmy looked at me and smirked.

"Hey, white bread," Jimmy's face widened into a malicious smile. "I see that you've met my fiancé."

Staci shook her head at Jimmy and then smiled warmly at me. "Jimmy told me that you two are friends and went to the same high school."

"Friends?" I snorted. "Congratulations, Jimmy, you did it again." Then I turned and began walking away.

"Jason," Staci called after me. "Where are you going?"

I did not answer; I just kept walking.

Finding the girl I wanted to marry in the arms of the person I hated most in the world was beyond devastating. Once outside the dorm, I ran with tears streaming down my cheeks until I couldn't run anymore. I thought that Staci and I had something special. And to find out that she was Jimmy's fiancé was soul-crushing.

Jimmy had somehow managed to destroy my love life once again. And this time, it hurt worse than all the other times combined. I wandered over to the stadium and sat in the stands for hours. Eventually, I returned to my room, trying to decide what to do. It didn't take long to figure out that all that was left was to go home. As quickly as I could, I packed up my stuff, loaded it into my car, and hit the road. On the way out of town, my phone started to ring. I grabbed it and threw it out the car window.

When I got home, I told my parents that I had finished school and would graduate with a degree in business administration and a minor in accounting. They were somewhat disappointed when I told them I would not be attending graduation. I did not want to risk meeting up with Staci or Jimmy.

As I expected, I was not drafted. However, it did amuse me that Jimmy was not drafted until near the end of the fourth round when Tennessee picked him. All the pundits had Jimmy going in the first round or early in the second at the latest. So, when Jimmy was picked late in the fourth round, the consensus was that Tennessee had gotten a steal. But the coaches knew what I knew; Jimmy was freakishly fast but had terrible hands. That drop in the draft had cost Jimmy about six million dollars.

Even though I thought I did not care, I finally had to admit that I was disappointed I wasn't drafted. But after about a week, I realized there was no reason for any team to take me. I had only played a handful of games in college. Besides, my stats were almost nonexistent. Faced with this reality, I decided to look for a real job. However, I did not get too far into the hunt when the quarterback coach of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Ray Sullivan, called and invited me to training camp. Ray told me they could only offer me five thousand dollars as an undrafted free agent, but he told me he thought I had what it took to be an NFL quarterback. So, I figured, what the hell, I would give it a try.

I stuck with Tampa through the OTAs (organized team activities) and the mini-camps. I also got to play in one preseason game. I knew where I stood in the pecking order, but I was busting my ass anyway.

The preseason came, and I stuck with Tampa through one game when coach Sullivan called me into his office.

"This is the hardest part of being a coach," Ray said after I had taken a seat. "But the situation is that we have a chance to pick up a couple of veterans that could really help us. So, we must let some people go, and unfortunately, you are one of those people."

I was obviously disappointed but not crushed by the news. I had not expected to get this far. Hell, Tampa had paid me five thousand dollars and eight hundred dollars a week to play football. It had been a great experience, and I knew I could compete at this level even though I had only played twelve downs.

"Coach, getting this far is more than I ever expected," I said with a smile as I stood and extended my hand. "I want to thank you for the opportunity. I hope you guys have a great season."

Coach Sullivan stood and shook my hand. "For what it's worth, I fought to keep you and let Andy Wilder go. He is not going to make it anyway. Jason, I do not think your career is over yet. Stay close to your phone. I've had inquiries about you and told them you are worth a look. There is a chance you might get picked up by someone else."

The coach was right, Atlanta called, and I was with them for the final two games of the preseason. But I was let go when they had to make the final cuts. However, I did get to play two quarters and even threw a touchdown pass. However, at this point, I truly figured that I was done and headed home. Once again, I prepared to start looking for that real job.

I had just dropped my suitcase on my bed when my cellphone rang. It was the Pittsburgh Steelers, and they wanted me on the first flight out. Their future Hall of Fame quarterback, John Buckner, was getting long in the tooth, and their backup, Mark Runner, had been dinged up in the preseason. They needed a third quarterback.

They faxed me ten pages of plays and told me to try to absorb as much as possible on the flight up. One of the things I had going for me was a great memory. By the time I landed in Pittsburgh, I had memorized all the plays they had sent me. They ran me through a tryout and were impressed with how many plays I remembered. They signed me to a rookie contract at the end of the tryout. I was in the NFL.

I signed a contract for three years valued at $2,025,000. My first-year salary was $610,000, with my second-and third-year pay being $660,000 and $785,000, respectively.

When I told my parents and some friends what my contract was for, they thought I was rich, but it was all bullshit. None of the money in that contract was guaranteed. I only got paid for each game I was part of the 53-man roster. If they cut me three games into the season, I would only get paid for three games. Still, that would be about $36,000 a game, which was nothing to sneeze at. My goal, at that point, was to stay with the team as long as possible.

As it turned out, John played every game, with Mark only filling in two games where we had blown out the other side. We won one game by forty-eight points, and I was put in for the last four plays. True, all I had to do was take the snap and knell down, but it still counts. I racked up minus-four yards for the season. Maybe it isn't a great statistic, but at least I had an NFL statistic.

However, at the end of the season, Pittsburgh cut me. I was not surprised or upset. John, not unexpectedly, retired at the end of the season. So, Pittsburgh traded up in the first round to take a quarterback. Since they were going to pay him mega-bucks, they would definitely start him. They still had Mark and picked up a journeyman quarterback, Jim Tabor, who was a quality player. So, they had no need for a third-stringer like me.

With the season over and me back at my parent's house, I was having breakfast one morning, trying to figure out what to do next, when my mother shoved the newspaper in front of me. I was annoyed and tried to push it away.

"Didn't you go to school with Jimmy Washington?" my mother asked.

"Yeah, we were on the football team together," I answered as I shoveled another spoonful of cereal into my mouth.

"Well, he got some kind of award from the Chamber of Commerce," my mother pushed the paper in front of me again.

I looked down at the paper, and my heart squeezed. It was a picture of Jimmy and Staci. As if my life was not crappy enough. Not only had I been cut by Pittsburgh, but seeing Staci still with Jimmy hurt like hell.

I stared at the picture for at least a minute, tracing my finger over Staci's likeness. I couldn't help it; I still loved her. Seeing Jimmy with her put me in a crappy mood for the next two weeks. I am sure my parents were getting ready to throw my ass out when I finally landed an agent. He kept me pumped up about finding a new team.

All throughout the summer, my agent worked tirelessly to find me a place on a team, any team. Fortunately, he hooked me up with the Chargers at the beginning of the next year's training camp, but I was cut before the second preseason game. That kind of pissed me off because I had played well in my one game. I played two quarters against the Browns and threw for a hundred and fourteen yards, one touchdown with no interceptions. Still, I was gone.

Next, I was picked up by Dallas, but I did not like the culture there. I did not fit in from day one and knew I would not last. I was gone after the second preseason game. Again, I had not played badly. I passed for ninety-four yards, no interceptions, and we had a field goal on the one drive I directed. But professional football is a business, and you must accept that a team will drop you in a heartbeat. Especially, if they think they have found someone better, who is also cheaper.

I was not feeling too stressed about getting cut twice in the preseason. I managed to save almost $350,000 after taxes from my salary last year. It was not a fortune, but it's more than most people have in savings.

What almost no one realizes is that NFL contracts are very deceptive. The only money a player is sure of getting is what is guaranteed in the contract. Suppose a player signs a hundred-million-dollar contract that guarantees thirty million dollars. The guaranteed money is all he is sure he will be paid. The good part is that if he trips and falls on the first day of training camp, screws up his knee, and can never play again, he will still get thirty million dollars. The bad part is if the contract is for five years, and he plays two years, he has already gotten all the guaranteed money. The team can cut him any time they want and owe him nothing.

After Dallas cut me, I started putting my resume out. But before any job offers came in, I got a call from the New York Jets, and I managed to stick with them for a season. The best part about being a second-year player in the NFL was that they had to pay me the minimum of $675,000 or the pro-rata share for however long I stuck with the team. That meant I was going to get about $40,000 a game. I didn't think that was too shabby for someone sitting on the bench.

During my year in New York, I could only save about $275,000. Out of the $675,000, I had to pay my agent ten percent. And even though I made more money, living in the New York area was unbelievably expensive. Also, I made the mistake of letting some of my teammates talk me into living in New York City. Not only was the apartment expensive, but it was crappy and rundown. Between the cost of living, state and city taxes, and federal income taxes, I felt like I had taken a royal screwing from the city and the government. Still, I suppose I shouldn't complain. At that time, no one else seemed to be interested in me.

The upside of playing for the Jets meant I got to play a bit more. I did not start any games, but I had forty-three official snaps. I even threw for one touchdown. I also had to play on special teams, which was fun. I had seven solo tackles before the runner could advance the ball more than five yards. But I was not surprised or unhappy when the Jets cut me after the season. I never want to go back to New York; it sucks.

After two seasons, I again thought no one would want me. As a third-year player, you faced the reality that it would be cheaper for a team to bring in a rookie and pay him less. Who wants to pay someone almost $800,000 to sit on the bench? But my fears were unfounded, and I got a call from Tennessee. At first, I was uneasy about playing for the same team as Jimmy, but then I learned he had been traded to Arizona for a sixth-round draft pick. Despite my dislike of Jimmy, I thought Arizona got a deal. That proved not to be the case.

I lasted in Tennessee until after the second preseason game. Until then, I believed I was a lock to make the team. I had played in both games and thrown for a touchdown in each. But the economics of football sent me packing. Tennessee signed a quarterback out of the Canadian Football League who was cheaper.

I was sitting in the Nashville airport when my cellphone rang. It was a call from the general manager for the Buffalo Bills. Their backup quarterback, Drew Anderson, had suffered his second concussion since the beginning of training camp. Even though Buffalo's starting quarterback, the future Hall of Famer Roger Stark, was healthy, he was forty years old. This made Buffalo nervous about going into the season with just those two quarterbacks. The team wanted some insurance with Drew's concussions and Roger's age. Hence, they offered me $1.1 million to sign with them. I even got a $50,000 signing bonus. Of course, none of the balance of the contract was guaranteed. Still, this was going to be a turning point in my career, and I guess it was for the better. But at the time, I thought otherwise.

The Buffalo culture was pretty laid back, and I fit right in. Still, I was intimidated when I started working with Roger. Thankfully, he put me at ease right away. He was not only a fabulous quarterback but a wonderful teacher. He constantly pointed out things to me throughout training camp and the season. I thought I knew what was required to be a quarterback in the NFL. But working with Roger every day, I realized how much I did not know.

Roger taught me the many tricks that teams used to disguise their defenses and how best to run a progression of my receivers. He even taught me how to release the ball quicker. Watching the game film with Roger was an education in itself. He picked up things that the coaches did not even see. I thought I had really progressed as a quarterback. Still, when the season started, I was relegated to my third-string quarterback duties. I felt like I was back at Florida State since I was required to walk beside the coach. The upside was that I got to wear the headset most of the time. Coach Stombard did not like wearing it unless he wanted to communicate with the coaches in the box upstairs.

Buffalo was having a great season, and Roger had started every game. Drew only played a couple of quarters. Since he had not played much, Drew's health had been fine. In truth, they didn't really need me, but for some reason, they didn't cut me loose. I was having the best time of my life. I was on a winning NFL team and had a new fiancé. But, as they say, all good things must end.