“Okay, before we go out today, we’re going to try something new. I want you all to go to room 105,” Coach Trent announced.
We packed up and went to the room where we found mats on the floor. We were told to find one. A young woman in leotards came in and went to the front of the room. Coach Allen joined her.
“This morning we’re going to be doing yoga. Your goal in this exercise is to test your focus and to make you feel better. As with everything else, you will be watched. We’ll be evaluating you on how you do yoga. You’ll be learning to try something different and totally buying into it. Focus on quieting your mind. Don’t let your doubts, anxieties, or fears get you down.”
We spent the next hour doing yoga. I took Coach Allen and Bo’s advice and tried to get into it. A couple of times I caught myself trying not to laugh with some of the goofy poses they had us in, but then I’d refocus and just go for it. Heck, I had been in weirder positions doing modeling.
Doyle must have really relaxed because towards the end he let out one of the loudest farts I had ever heard. Something had crawled up his butt and died, by the smell of it. I think he did the right thing by excusing himself because I would guess he had filled his pants on that one. Even the yoga teacher wrinkled her nose when the noxious cloud made it to the front of the room.
I was happy when they told us we were done. I will admit I felt better after the class. Unlike Pilates’ sneaky approach of trying to kill you, I felt well stretched out and ready for practice after doing yoga.
AS PREDICTED, I WAS paired with Tim ‘Cadillac’ Rogers. We had nicknamed him ‘Cadillac’ at the Ohio State Elite camp because of how smooth his footwork was in the pocket. I’d learned a lot watching him. Everything he did looked effortless. He had been the MVP at our camp in Columbus. The pride of Texas and I were getting to know each other because this was the fourth camp we’d both gone to.
“I hear a rumor you’re the man to beat,” I shared with him.
“Bullshit! You and Wes have to be the two leaders,” Tim said.
“Nope, they rate us each night, and your name keeps popping up at the top of the list. You’re the man we’re all chasing. It would be really cool if you won the MVP here, too.”
I was surprised when he hesitated. I would’ve thought he would embrace being the best. I knew the other fifteen guys, including me, would love to be the big dog at this event. He gave me a weak smile and then we began to run drills.
The first drill we ran was to drop back, fake a handoff, and make a blind turn while hiding the ball. We would then set up and throw a long ball downfield. The only problem was they were running defenders at us from different angles while our backs were turned. The challenge was to avoid the rush, find your open receiver, and then make the play. Scrambling and thinking on my feet was my strength, so I loved this drill!
I was excited, so they let me go first. They were sneaky in that they would send one of three defenders at you as you dropped back to hand off the ball. They wanted the defender to be in your face when you turned around after completing the fake. As I turned around, they had a guy on the far outside zeroed in on me. I slid forward in the pocket to avoid him, found my receiver and completed the pass.
They let me run the drill ten times, and I completed nine out of ten. Now it was Tim’s turn.
I watched in horror as my new friend imploded on the football field. The first play he turned the wrong way and he and the running back collided, which caused him to fumble the football. The next play he was able to fake the handoff, but when Tim turned around the defender was going to his left. Instead of stepping to the right to avoid him, he stepped left and got run over. By the end of the drill, he had completed one out of ten passes, and the smooth operator was a jumbled mess.
It didn’t help that ESPNU followed the two of us around. It was almost as if there was blood in the water and these media sharks were circling a wounded seal. Tim tried to walk off to give himself a moment to gather his thoughts, but the camera crew was in his face. I could see he was about to punch one of them, so I ran over and grabbed him.
“Come on guys, give him a moment,” I chastised them.
I had worked to win them over, so they left us alone.
“Dude, everyone’s watching. You need to pull it together. They want to see how you react to adversity. We both know you’re better than what you just did. Go get a drink and refocus. I expect you to kick butt the rest of the day,” I told him.
I turned around to find the coaches had listened in to what I’d told him. Tim took off so he could gather himself. I jogged back and we started the next drill. Tim showed up for his turn and did better, but he wasn’t the same quarterback I’d seen before. Towards the end of the morning session, he actually aimed the ball. I had never seen him overthrow or dump so many balls into the dirt. He suddenly couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.
On one of our water breaks, I went and talked to Bo.
“I think I messed him up. I told him he was the front-runner, thinking he would be happy. The pressure has gotten to him,” I said.
“I know he’s your friend, but you need to focus. You’re starting to play down to his level,” Bo warned me.
I thought about it, and he was right. I was busy being worried about Tim and hadn’t given my all on every play. I’d come to this camp to display my skills and to compete against the best. I could feel sorry for Tim after we got off the field. I know it sounded selfish, but I needed to get my priorities straight.
When we got back to it, Tim did a little better. I refocused and upped my game. I quit worrying about my friend and took care of business. I had to block out what he did, so I made a point to go to Coach Allen and talk to him between turns so I wouldn’t watch Tim. I think we were all happy when lunch finally was called. I left Tim alone and jogged into the cafeteria. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk to anyone.
WHEN WE CAME OUT FROM lunch, they had everyone, including the skill players and coaches, listen to guest speakers. Each one got about five minutes to talk to us. The one everyone was excited about was Heisman Trophy winner and number 1 draft pick Jameis Winston. He talked about what a difference Elite 11 made for him as a quarterback.
Another guy who stood out was Teddy Bridgewater. He had attended Louisville and was the first-round draft pick of the Minnesota Vikings. In his talk, he pointed to the Elite 11 class of 2008 where seven of the eleven had been drafted into the NFL, led by Geno Smith. That just highlighted for me that even the best high school quarterbacks didn’t have a guarantee to make the NFL.
From the 2005 camp, Tim Tebow talked to us. He was a two-time national champ and a Heisman Trophy winner. He talked about having a strong moral character and how his faith helped him be a better person and football player. He was the poster child for what a college would want in their quarterback. But for all his credentials, he was a bust in the NFL. It was also a shame the media had condemned him for being religious. It made me very careful about talking about my faith, but I wasn’t very vocal about it anyway.
Coach Trent was talking to us about the plans for the remainder of the day when he suddenly stopped. Wes, Doyle and Flee were talking to Jameis Winston and not paying attention.
“Do you three think your time might be better spent actually learning about football?”
I rolled my eyes at the guys when they came back. Flee looked worried. I don’t think Wes or Doyle were embarrassed in the least.