Dreams Live or Die When No One’s Watching

Nashville, Tennessee | Wednesday, August 31, 2010 — I was released by the Cleveland Browns the week of my June wedding. That was my sixth team in two seasons. I started my third training camp at home, until an injury occurred and my phone rang.

Lying in bed next to my wife, 6 inches and 60 miles away. She flew down from Seattle hoping she was coming to her new home, but cautiously packed light. We had exhaustively mapped out every scenario for a third-year veteran. With the preparation complete, I mindlessly fiddled with a game on my phone — anything to keep my mind off what came next.

Every player is faced with a question — will this game be my last or the building block of a long career?

You’ve been stuck in the game of 53, an ongoing evaluation of who will make the final cut and appear on the regular season roster. Only a few spots remain. Having received the dreaded call before, I am wise to the process.

If you dwell too long on the possibilities, it will be a never-ending spiral of frustration. But everyone on the bubble plays the “what if” game.

Every player is faced with a question — will this game be my last or the building block of a long career?

The personal: Last game I played well, but what if I didn’t get beat on that kickoff return? Did a 300-pound lineman get down the field faster than me?What if I had stopped him in his tracks?

The numbers: What if they keep seven linebackers and five receivers — does that leave room for another tight end or fullback?

The injuries: What if the left tackle that got hurt is out for an extended period? Do they need an extra lineman?

These thoughts can distract and discourage because they are focused on the past or factors beyond your control. The reality is this: there’s one chance left. The opportunity comes in the form of the oft-overlooked fourth preseason game. While the players of value get a break, the rest are left to battle it out for a spot on “The Wall,” the continuous line of reserves that separate the starters from the fallen.

The game is one last chance to stand out, to grab a coach’s eye and make them believe. The playing field will be packed with men fighting for their livelihood, and no one is more dangerous than a man whose clock is running out.

Some point before the game you must have a “come to Jesus” moment, one in which you look in the mirror and accept that you have only two options before the clock runs out — make the team or get hurt trying. That’s your mentality when you can see the end.

No one is more dangerous than a man whose clock is running out.

Entering the field in that mindset is the only way you will end up on a list. If your name is not on the active roster or the injured reserve list, you will wake up tomorrow to a phone call you don’t want to answer.

Although the fans are itching for the season to start, there are still decisions to be made. The choices have life-altering implications for many young men. One magical play can lead to five more years in the dream.

Tomorrow is the Titans’ fourth preseason game.

Tomorrow, all the BS is out the window and it’s time to put up or shut up.

Tomorrow, I will play fast, be smart, and unleash hell on people.

Tomorrow, I will make a special team play, create holes on offense, and show my value.

Tomorrow is it, my last shot, and nothing else matters.

How do I feel about my chances? Confident but confused. I have played well, but what if they don’t keep a second fullback? Hopeful but realistic. I did all I could to stake my claim as valuable enough to be one of the 53, but I fear I have too much ground to make up.

There are reasons for hope: last game I was on first-team punt and kickoff return, plus I have been long-snapping in games. The running backs coach and I were talking about a play I “made right” ( which is when you clean up another’s mistake). I told him I thought my hands were weak and wanted to work on them. He said, “I am going to be optimistic and say we will work on them next week.”

I cling to these signs of life, glimpses that the ball may bounce my way. What does this game mean to me? This game will either be a launching pad to my career or final chapter to a short-lived dream.

It doesn’t matter how long you play the game, the fear still creeps in. This game is no different than the 100 I have played before, only this could be my last. That makes it twice as scary.

What does it take to stand out, what does it take to defy the odds?

This game, the one fans will not even be watching, is the most important game of my life.

About The Author: Jedidiah Collins is a former NFL fullback and current Director of Financial Education for Brighton Jones.

In his role as Director of Financial Education, Jedidiah pursues his passion of educating people around how to USE money!