CHAPTER 10

AN UNSETTLED SEASON

TONY

I never did get the only child thing. Jordan had three siblings.

But I have learned over the course of our marriage that, when Lauren gets a vision, she can be very persuasive. And when she really wants to do something, she will figure out how to get over the rough spots and make it work for us. When we married, I knew how much Lauren loved kids. I also knew that her mom and dad were still adopting children in their late sixties, so I fully expected to have another adoption discussion in the near future.

In any event, about a year after Jordan’s birth, the agency called Lauren and told her about a mother who was going to deliver a baby in the next couple of weeks. Since they didn’t have anyone in place to adopt this baby, they thought of us. Of course, Lauren wanted to pursue this unexpected opportunity. From there, things moved very quickly because we had already had a home study and background check done for Jordan’s adoption. Unlike Jordan’s, however, this one happened during football season. While I had my concerns and would have preferred to adopt during the off-season, Lauren was very convincing. Before we knew it, we were preparing for number five. Once again, the process went very smoothly; in fact, it actually seemed easier. Maybe I was learning.

So in September 2001, we welcomed our second daughter, whom we named Jade. Just a couple of days after bringing her home, something happened that would change us, and change our country, forever.

That Tuesday, the eleventh, the other coaches and I were in the film room watching video and preparing for Sunday’s game against the Philadelphia Eagles when someone stuck his head in the room and said, “Man, a plane ran into a building in New York  —that is weird.” And when we were told the second one had hit, I thought, This isn’t weird  —we may be under attack. What is going on? Before turning on a TV or doing anything else, I called home to see how Lauren was doing with Jordan and Jade.

Lauren told me what she had heard. Like me, she had immediately thought of our family. After we had talked, she contacted the kids’ schools. Eventually, she joined a long line of other parents who had arrived early to pick up their children from school. We didn’t really know what was going on, but she wanted to be with our kids.

The next couple of days were strange. Everyone was tense, not knowing if this had been an isolated incident or if there would be another attack. MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa had been one of the strategic military hubs during Desert Storm. Would it be a target for terrorists? Were we safe in Tampa? All these thoughts were going through our minds in the days after 9/11.

The commissioner postponed that week’s games, so as it turned out, we wouldn’t play the Eagles until early January  —and because we had a bye week scheduled the following week, we wouldn’t play another game until the end of September. In the midst of all the uncertainty, we had to rely on the Lord and understand that He is the one who has to protect us and take care of us. It was a good lesson, one Lauren and I would have to remember later that year.

In the meantime, our family was enjoying Jade. She really was a jewel, the perfect baby. She had no health issues and easily fell into a routine. When we put her to bed, she’d go right to sleep and sleep through the night.

Watching Lauren interact with our two youngest was so much fun for me. Because she was a twin herself, Lauren had always wanted to have twins. Jordan and Jade almost became her set. She bought a double stroller and dressed them alike.

People often told us how blessed these children were to be in our family, but we didn’t look at it that way. We felt we were the fortunate ones. God was allowing us to use our gifts and resources in a way that glorified Him. Lauren said it was as if God was allowing us to be a part of His Kingdom building.

One thing was certain: we were on our way to having a kingdom right in our own home! There were definitely days when I longed for some peace and quiet in the house. Or when I wanted just the two of us to be able to go do something. But then I would stop and realize how selfish that was.

Adopting Jordan first helped put everything in perspective. We were reassured when we read Psalm 139: “You watched me . . . as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book” (verses 15-16). We knew that God had created Jordan and Jade. He knew before they were born that they would be our children. Like Lauren, I believe God put them with us because He knew we would be able to take care of them. It was the perfect place for them to be, all part of His perfect plan.

Having two more children helped me in another way. It allowed me to work on my patience. When people watched me coach out on the field, they thought I was always calm and under control, but that wasn’t true.

I used to let my temper get the best of me a lot more often. In fact, I was ejected from some of my high school games, but with the Lord’s help and my dad’s correction, I learned to control my anger publicly. But that person with biting words . . . I sometimes find him lurking too close to the surface.

I fight that tendency to allow my tongue to have its way, and I have to constantly pray about that. It’s something I need to keep a check on. It’s easy to say, “Oh, you’re crazy. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Hurtful words can be painful, no matter who they come from. But when they come from your spouse, the person you love so much, they hurt even more. I’ve had to learn to fight the impulse to respond that way. Sometimes, I’m sorry to say, harsh words do come out. And when they do, I have to go to Lauren or the kids and say, “I shouldn’t have said that. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” It’s a battle, and it’s one I don’t always win.

Yet what I say is so important because once words come out, I can’t take them back. Lauren may know I said something harsh in the heat of the moment or that I was sharing an honest opinion, but if something wasn’t said in the right way or at the right time, it is hurtful. Really hurtful. So I’ve worked hard to get better with that over the past thirty years.

Lauren and I try to be conscious of what we say, not only out of love for each other, but also out of love for our children. They’re learning how to relate to other people by watching us and seeing how we settle disagreements. They’re also picking up on what appropriate language sounds like. If Mom and Dad say something or use a certain tone of voice, then it must be okay. We want to set the right example for our children.

Lauren

I felt uneasy throughout the fall of 2001, and it was less about the words that were spoken than those that weren’t  —though the message was coming through loud and clear. Part of the excitement I’d felt in coming to Tampa was due to the Glazers’ interest in getting my input into everything. Over the first five seasons, we frequently met for lunch or discussions. They had always welcomed my thoughts and feedback. But now that had shifted, and I felt it.

In fairness to them, I think Bryan and Joel Glazer were feeling a little more confident about how to run a football club, so they weren’t asking for as much input from us. When I’d ask one of them about my part in an upcoming event, he’d say, “No, we’ve got that” or “We’ll take care of that.” I was told, “So and so is going to handle the new family this time.” They took back the credit card I had always used to take new wives to lunch and put someone else in charge of the women’s organization. Also, they told me they could no longer open up the stadium early for our Bible study. I was most saddened by that, since the wives had really been blessed by it. As they tightened up on things, I no longer felt like I was part of the inner circle. Our relationship had cooled and was more businesslike. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

On road trips, I noticed the Glazers hovering together in the front of the plane. They no longer included us in their conversations as we traveled, and I began to feel uneasy. When I watched them with Tony, I could see that their body language with him seemed different  —less open, more distant.

Something definitely was going on  —maybe they were starting to go in a different direction and we weren’t going to be included in the new plans. I felt that same stiffness with some of the people on staff; they, too, were just a little more businesslike with me than usual. Because I thought we had always had a very good, open relationship, I asked some of them, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” And their response was always, “Oh no, no, everything’s fine. Everything’s great. No, don’t worry, we’re happy.” They tried to reassure me but I just didn’t feel it.

All season long, I heard rumors of different coaches being considered to replace Tony. In the midst of all these subtle changes, Tony continued to work as hard as ever. I felt such sadness and betrayal. In fact, it was a real low point in my life because I could see the handwriting on the wall. And I felt so bad for my husband.

I talked with Tony about it. I said I no longer had the peace I’d once had. I no longer felt confident that everything was going well. I even asked him, “Are you sure they’re happy with your performance and your coaching?” I just felt like we didn’t have the owners’ full support.

Tony didn’t see the changes in the same way. Early in the season, he’d been aware of talk in the media that, if the Bucs didn’t get to the Super Bowl that year, the Glazers were going to make a change. He asked Joel Glazer at the beginning of the season if the rumors that the Glazers were interested in Bill Parcells were true. Joel assured Tony they weren’t. “You are our coach, and we have confidence in you,” Joel said. Tony took him at his word and didn’t give it much thought after that. He told me he was sure the Bucs would have a great year and everything would work out. He was focused on getting the team ready. Not only that, he believed God had a plan for us when we came to Tampa and was confident that His plan was for us to succeed in a big way. With that mind-set, he didn’t worry much about what other people were thinking or saying.

That shouldn’t have surprised me too much. I knew Tony tended to be a little more optimistic about how things will work out, while I tend to be more realistic. I am also better at reading people’s body language. For instance, when Tony and I meet people on the street, I can usually tell which ones are simply zealous, excited fans and which are starting conversations because they have ulterior motives and want something. Tony isn’t always able to see that.

TONY

Over the years I have learned to listen to Lauren. She’s been right a lot, and now I trust her instincts much more than I did early in our marriage. As it turned out, she was right about the Glazers. They were preparing to make a change.

As the season wound down, however, I had to deal with an even bigger blow. The Thursday before our final regular season game, Rich McKay walked out to the field during practice with a message from my dad. My mom had died at their home in Jackson, Michigan. She was the first of any of our parents to die.

We sat the kids down in the living room to tell them. Everyone took it hard  —especially Eric, who cried uncontrollably. When he walked over to Lauren and sat in her lap, it hit us that this was the first time our kids had lost someone close to us. We’d always felt blessed that both sets of parents were still happily married and that our kids were able to know the love of all four grandparents.

My mom had been battling diabetes for several years, so we’d seen this day approaching. We just didn’t recognize how quickly it would come. When my parents had come down for a game in 2000, my mom had fallen in a restaurant and broken her hip. From then on, she spent most of her time in a wheelchair.

During that off-season, Lauren had told me, “Your mom isn’t able to get around on her own anymore. If anything happens to your dad, we need to have her come and stay here.” That was a special moment  —I felt such joy that Lauren felt that way.

After learning of my mom’s death and talking with Lauren, I decided to coach that Sunday. I knew my mother would have wanted me in Tampa for the last regular season game. That was the first time I really didn’t care whether my team won or lost. My mind was on my mom’s funeral and the upcoming opening playoff game. Philadelphia beat us that Sunday, 17–13, but the game had no impact on the standings.

Our family flew to Michigan the following day for the funeral on Tuesday. As sad as it was for me, the funeral was a great celebration of my mother’s life. Many of her neighbors and former students talked about the impact she had made on them. It was very touching for me and for our entire family.

Less than a week later, we would face the Eagles yet again in the first playoff game. The Friday morning that we flew to Philadelphia, the St. Petersburg Times ran a leaked story, which included inside information stating that if we didn’t win the game on Saturday, I would be fired. I planned to ask Joel Glazer about it, but he wasn’t on the plane. In fact, none of the owners were.

That’s when I knew Lauren was right. The Glazers had flown with us to every road game since I had been there, and yet no one in the family was traveling with us to a playoff matchup? All the speculation over the last few months was probably true. Lauren asked a staff member, “What’s going on? This is really awkward.” But the guy replied, “No, everything’s fine. No, you’re good, you’re good.” But when she came back to our seats, she told me she felt as if he’d been brushing her off too.

I was disappointed, but I still felt the Lord was in control. So I wasn’t worried about what would happen if we lost. Where would I be the following year? Where would our family be? That was up to Him. But I was disappointed that the owners had said all along everything was fine and then, once I learned the truth from a newspaper article, didn’t even want to face me.

After all we’d been through together, the Glazers didn’t tell me what they really thought. If they knew I had to win three playoff games or get to the Super Bowl to keep my job, I would have liked them to simply tell me that on day one. That would have been fine. But to tell me everything was good when it wasn’t . . . that was very disappointing.

We ended up losing that game on Sunday. I flew back to Tampa, waiting to see if the newspapers had been right. Two nights later I had a five-minute meeting with Bryan and Joel Glazer, who told me they were firing me. It was a pretty quick and cold ending to a six-year relationship, but there wasn’t much more they wanted to say. By the time I had driven home to tell Lauren the news, I was ready to move forward.

Had my mom not passed away when she did, I might have spent more time thinking about being fired and how it happened. But when she died and I saw how emotional my kids were, losing a playoff game and losing my job didn’t seem to be as big a deal. I think everything happened in the order it did to remind me what was truly important in life.

Now, being different emotionally from Lauren is great in that she and I have been able to complement each other. But in this case it led to some tension. My thinking was, Well, we have to forget about the Glazers, move forward, and find out what’s coming next. There’s no point in worrying about what happened. On the other hand, Lauren was deeply hurt. As she told me, “We’ve put in six years, and after all we’ve tried to do, it’s not as easy as saying, ‘Let’s move on.’”

Lauren

I did feel despondent and let down. I had felt like we were part of the Bucs family  —a family from which the Glazers were divorcing us, if you will. Tony was already looking ahead, but I was grieving and I was upset. I felt that, by not being upfront with us, the Glazers had shown a lack of integrity. For so many years, we had worked together, resolving all the problems and challenges along the way. Then, all of the sudden we were excluded and, yes, it really hurt.

We tried to model positive behavior for the sake of our children. We prayed about it and told them that it was all in the Lord’s hands. They saw us trusting the Lord. Even so, Jamie, in particular, was quite upset. He had such a strong attachment to so many of the players and coaches that he really felt the sting. Tiara was the least upset, since she had carved out an identity separate from the Bucs anyway. Eric was young and couldn’t voice his feelings as well.

Still, in spite of our disappointment, even I was able to keep perspective on things. All I had to do was consider what we’d been through in the past four months. Just after we brought Jade home, we’d gone through 9/11, a tough season, and the death of Tony’s mom  —all before Tony was fired.

What would be next? During our first five years in Tampa, everything seemed to go right. Now we couldn’t lose our faith in God because we were going through a tough year. We just needed to focus on where the Lord would take us next. Would we stay here in Tampa or move again to take another job?

We had to focus on the Lord and try to determine what He wanted us to do. We had come to love Tampa by this time, and we weren’t sure we wanted to move. We didn’t have to take another coaching job; maybe God was trying to get us to see an opportunity in Tampa outside of football. We were trying to figure it out.

Tony invited the coaches to our house shortly after he’d been fired. He talked with them about what was going on and what might be in store for them as a group. He told them he didn’t have any answers. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to continue to coach. Then he read Psalm 37, which talks about how God protects and cares for His children in times of trouble. One verse, in particular, seemed to strike a chord with everyone: “Be still in the presence of the LORD, and wait patiently for him to act” (verse 7). The others agreed that this verse was a great reminder that the Lord was going to take care of each one of them.

Tony ended the night by telling his staff that he had gotten a couple of feelers from teams and would keep them posted as to what was going on. He said that if he took another coaching job, he wanted everyone to come with him. In the meantime, he said he understood if they looked at other jobs since he couldn’t promise them anything. We were going to let God direct us, he told them.

And, though we didn’t see it yet, He already was.