NEVER GET TOO HIGH, NEVER SINK TOO LOW
Winning the national title was the experience of a lifetime. But, to be honest, it didn’t even come close to comparing with what took place a few weeks prior. That was when—outfitted in my cap and gown, wearing a multicolored bow tie—I walked across the stage at Littlejohn Coliseum in mid-December 2016 to receive my bachelor’s degree in communications from Clemson.
I WAS THE FIRST PERSON IN MY FAMILY TO RECEIVE A COLLEGE DEGREE.
I was the first person in my family to receive a college degree. My mom cried. Behind my smile that spread from ear to ear, I was crying a little bit myself. I could hear my siblings and other relatives cheering in the packed arena.
Shortly after the graduation, Clemson’s Instagram account posted a picture of me receiving my degree. The post said:
“Walking across the stage as a proud Clemson graduate! Thank you Deshaun!”
No way, I thought the moment I saw it. I immediately posted my response:
“Noo, THANK YOU Clemson University! Best 3 years of my life!”
I meant that and still do.
As an aside, my determination to graduate in less than three years became fodder for others. I remember how Coach Swinney reacted one time as my graduation neared. I needed only five more credits to complete my degree, and during a press conference a reporter asked a question that sort of dissed what I was trying to achieve.
“How many of us here were five hours short of graduating in two-and-a-half years?” Coach Swinney shot back. “Raise your hand. Quick.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
Even Mama Maria had some fun as my graduation neared. My last class, having to do with the importance of mental and emotional balance, seemed like just the sort of laid-back class that I wanted after so much hard work. Mama Maria purposely never told me that there would be a final paper I would have to write!
My time at Clemson taught me lessons I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life. Not all of them took place on the football field. Those lessons and others were foremost in my mind when, on November 8, 2016, I announced I was declaring for the 2017 NFL Draft.
As the draft approached, football naturally dominated my thoughts. I had a great deal of excitement—and more than a little uncertainty.
On the one hand, being in a position to join an NFL team was the culmination of a lifelong dream. Now that I was on the edge of achieving it, I struggled to keep my emotions in check. I was hungry just to get started.
But, as I said, I was also anxious. Coming out of Clemson, most scouts and analysts projected I would be taken in the first round of the draft. Sports Illustrated, Pro Football Focus, and ESPN had all ranked me as the top quarterback available. NFLDraftScout.com had placed me second. Overall, the scouts placed me as high as the seventeenth overall prospect.
BEING IN A POSITION TO JOIN AN NFL TEAM WAS THE CULMINATION OF A LIFELONG DREAM.
All that praise was wonderful to hear, but it still left many questions unanswered. Which team would select me? Just how high would I go in the draft? What if one or more other quarterbacks were selected before me? What would that say about how NFL scouts, executives, coaches, and others judged my talent?
Of course, there were doubters as well. Some scouts cautioned that I was still inexperienced in reading defenses. Others questioned my decision-making. There was also some concern about my passing accuracy. (Since I could run as well as throw, some people assumed running would be my first choice rather than throwing the ball. Nothing could have been further from the truth.)
Two things in particular were helpful at this point. The first was the advice my friend Cam Newton had given me: never get too high; never sink too low. Cam, an NFL star quarterback, had sent me this advice in a text after our loss to Alabama my sophomore year, and it has stuck with me ever since.
I first met Cam at his 7-on-7 camp in Atlanta going into my junior year of high school. The camp was an intense exercise, using only seven players per side to focus on each individual’s skills and execution. After the camp, Cam selected me to be the quarterback for the all-star 7-on-7 team he was going to take to nationals in Florida. He traveled down there with us, and I got the chance to talk to him and make a personal connection.
Understandably, I was in awe of Cam when I first met him. He was several years older than I was, and he was everything I aspired to be—a talented player with just enough swag to radiate confidence and not slide into cockiness. We clicked instantly.
Over the years he stayed in touch, texting or calling me every now and then just to see how I was doing or to ask if I needed anything. He became my mentor. Whenever I hear the nickname D-Watt—what Cam calls me—I know I’m going to learn something of value.
It was his text in the wake of the Alabama loss that really got me back on track emotionally.
Basically, Cam told me to stay as mentally balanced as possible—never letting the highs push you into the stratosphere or letting the lows drop you so much that you thought you’d never be able to get up again. Balance, he said, was everything. Taking success too much to heart left you vulnerable to disbelief when things went wrong. By the same token, immersing yourself in failure could make it seem more permanent than it was.
He also urged me to accept both love and hate—because when you’re successful, you’ll always have those who love you, but you’ll also always have haters, people who will try to tear you down simply because it’s what they do.
According to Cam, the sweetest way to make them shut their mouths is to win.
I took that advice to heart. It would have been all too easy to coast into my junior year of college having given up on both a national championship and my goal of graduating early. Based on the success I had enjoyed, I could have decided that I had earned my stripes. Let someone else do the heavy lifting. Instead, I turned my attention to those things that had gotten me to where I was: football and academics. Far better to stay even-keeled and focused rather than rushing into some sort of foolish knee-jerk reaction I would likely regret. So here I was, college degree in hand, looking toward the draft.
The second thing that made me feel hopeful was a pre-draft visit I had with the Houston Texans in April. During the visit, they interviewed me and then ran me through a series of questions to gauge my knowledge of strategy and general football IQ.
FAR BETTER TO STAY EVEN-KEELED AND FOCUSED RATHER THAN RUSHING INTO SOME SORT OF FOOLISH KNEE-JERK REACTION I WOULD LIKELY REGRET.
It was both fun and challenging. One of the exercises involved my learning a particular route; more specifically, the offensive staff drew up a route on the whiteboard, erased it, then left the room for fifteen minutes. When they returned, I was supposed to be able to teach them the route as though they were seeing it for the first time.
When they came back, I walked them through the play as though the quarterback were right-handed. Then I flipped the mechanics of the play and showed them how it would go with a left-handed quarterback.
They were astonished. I just smiled and told them I knew that play like the back of my hand. I didn’t say that to be arrogant. I wanted to show them the kind of quick study I could be.
All that lasted for most of the morning, and then we broke for lunch.
We went into the facility’s cafeteria to eat. After I got my food, I didn’t see anybody I really knew all that well, so I just sat down in the corner of the room to eat my meal. Other players started to drift over to join me. At first they were fellow Clemson grads such as defensive tackle D. J. Reader and wide receiver DeAndre Hopkins. Defensive end Jadeveon Clowney joined us not long after that—even though he had played for rival South Carolina, we decided to be generous and let him sit down.
Soon about twenty players were crowded into a tight circle. We pushed a couple of tables together so everyone could have a seat. I was flattered that even though the room was filled with a former No. 1 draft pick and many All-Pros, so many guys wanted to talk to me.
Immediately, I felt at home. Even though the draft hadn’t happened yet, I felt I was in the right place. I thought I could really contribute to something special. The chemistry and vibe were there.
I also sensed a real opportunity for leadership. The Texans had done well the prior year, finishing first in the AFC South but losing in the divisional playoffs. Even though I would be a rookie—a complete newcomer to the team—I felt as though I could really help this team succeed with my play as well as my leadership.
By the time the draft approached, I was confident I had done pretty much all that I could to place myself in the best possible light, both professionally and personally. In many ways, there was nothing more I could do. That helped me let go of a good deal of my nervousness. My agent, David Mulugheta, urged me to relax and enjoy the experience as much as possible. At this point, whatever happened, happened, he told me.
I think I’ve cried in public only once. That was on draft night, after the Houston Texans traded up in the draft field to select me twelfth overall. I was the third quarterback taken in the draft, after Mitchell Trubisky (Chicago Bears) and future star and Super Bowl champion Patrick Mahomes (Kansas City Chiefs). After all that hard work, my dream had finally come true.
BY THE TIME THE DRAFT APPROACHED, I WAS CONFIDENT I HAD DONE PRETTY MUCH ALL THAT I COULD TO PLACE MYSELF IN THE BEST POSSIBLE LIGHT, BOTH PROFESSIONALLY AND PERSONALLY.
But my tears that night were about more than the reality that I had just been drafted into the NFL. They happened when I was on camera doing a post-draft interview. A member of the crew handed me a letter and asked if I was okay reading it out loud.
I opened it and saw that it was from my mother.
“Deshaun, when you came into this world, you brought a love to my heart that I had never appreciated,” I read as my hands started to shake. “I watched you play your first flag football game, all the way to the last college game. To be here at the NFL Draft and see you walk across the stage is a dream come true. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of the person and the man you became. Making it to the NFL is an accomplishment that you made come true.
“That being said, it brings so much joy to my heart. I wish you love, happiness, and longtime success.
“As I look back, we was not supposed to be here.”
When I read that, I had to stop. I bent over, my hands covering my eyes as I shook with tears. I tried to start reading again but struggled to regain some form of composure. Eventually, I was able to raise my head and finish reading Mom’s letter to me.
“In the words of Drake: ‘We made it.’ Love, Mama.”
As I finally managed to finish the letter, I looked up into the camera. A member of the TV crew asked me if there was anything I wanted to say in reply.
“Love you, Mama,” I said, trying to grin through my tears. “We made it.”
I took it further than that. To show my mom all that she means to me and how grateful I am for everything she’s done for me and the rest of my family, I celebrated the draft results by buying her a brand-new car—a 2017 Jaguar.
I tried not to let myself get too high, but it sure was hard.
One month later I signed a four-year contract with the Houston Texans. It was time to get to work.
Going into training camp—held in West Virginia so we could escape the Texas heat in the heart of summer—I knew full well that I was not the No. 1 quarterback on the Texans’ depth chart. That title belonged to Tom Savage, who had worked his tail off to win the starting job. I was eager to learn all that I could from Tom.
The first few days of workouts reinforced what so many people had told me. The NFL game is completely different—not just more involved and complicated but much faster paced as well. You had to learn fast and execute even faster. It became clear to me that quick decision-making was an absolute must. Players who made smart choices fast were the rule, not the exception. Everyone who played in this league was there for a reason.
I approached my first few days of professional football as an eager student. I watched others and drove myself to learn as much as I could about the Texans’ system, studying hours of film and staying late after practice.
THE NFL GAME IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT—NOT JUST MORE INVOLVED AND COMPLICATED BUT MUCH FASTER PACED AS WELL.
It began to pay off on the very first day of camp. I managed to get through that entire day without a major mental error—an achievement of which I was exceedingly proud. I missed no handoffs and never threw to the wrong receiver. But I knew I was going to make mistakes moving forward—and I did. I just tried to learn from them and, even more important, not make the same mistake twice.
Apparently, people noticed. I was getting feedback saying how coaches and other players were impressed with how quickly I was learning the Texans’ system. Every bit as complimentary was a tweet from Houston Chronicle sports columnist John McClain:
“I covered Warren Moon from from Day 1 for 10 years. At his 3rd practice, Watson reminds me of Moon [in] his first camp in 1984. So smooth!”1
That was a very flattering thing for John to say about me, but my first professional training camp experience definitely involved a lot of work and learning on my part. John’s words reminded me of the description of a duck on the water: on the surface, all seems fluid and effortless but, underneath, he’s paddling like crazy. I tried not to read too much into it and not to get too high or too low.
One of the first things I came to appreciate about football at this level was the emphasis on details. Of course, high school and high-level college play was about attention to specifics, but it was nothing like I experienced in the pros. When a coach instructed you to cut at just such an angle, he didn’t mean approximately or roughly. He meant exactly—forty-five degrees, ninety degrees, what have you. When handing off the ball to a running back, the ball was to be placed just so to allow the runner to gain maximum control without having to slow down or alter his pace. The practices, plays, and repetitions all focused on the specific details of execution. As I said, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before.
If you’re wondering, that’s why professional teams refer to practice plays as reps. The word—short for repetitions—really means something at this level. Before you can play and win in this league, you need to have every possible detail down to the point where you merely execute it. You don’t have time to think about it or remind yourself, Oh, right, I’m supposed to do it this way. It’s mental memory but also muscle memory. Ideally, things happen as automatically as possible. The only way to achieve that high level of consistency is by practicing the plays and the various movements over and over again.
ONE OF THE FIRST THINGS I CAME TO APPRECIATE ABOUT FOOTBALL AT THIS LEVEL WAS THE EMPHASIS ON DETAILS.
As a player who had come to be known as a great improviser, I was learning that amazing spur-of-the-moment plays are possible only after the details have been practiced over and over and executed properly. There’s improvisation, but not always as much as you might assume. Watch for it the next time you’re taking in a game. The flow of a play will continue to a certain point, which allows great players the opportunity to take it from there with their own skills.
Despite its obvious value, in professional sports it’s no surprise that not everyone likes practice. For some, the routine and repetition become boring and frustrating—practice can seem to go on forever, what with walk-throughs, running the same patterns, throwing the same sorts of passes over and over, hearing the same things repeatedly from the coaching staff. But those who approach it that way have lost their perspective of practice; it’s not pointless time killing but essential preparation. Although I admit that, for me, practice sometimes becomes a drag, it’s essential for success when the game, for lack of a better word, becomes more “fun” with great improvised runs and passes thrown with three 350-pound guys bearing down on you. Approach practice with anything less than a focused, committed attitude, and all the fun stuff may never have a chance to take place.
AS A PLAYER WHO HAD COME TO BE KNOWN AS A GREAT IMPROVISER, I WAS LEARNING THAT AMAZING SPUR-OF-THE-MOMENT PLAYS ARE POSSIBLE ONLY AFTER THE DETAILS HAVE BEEN PRACTICED OVER AND OVER AND EXECUTED PROPERLY.
Another essential lesson I learned during my first training camp was the value of asking questions—or, more honestly, of not being afraid to ask questions.
That was always a challenge for me—not because I didn’t want to learn but because I’ve always been somewhat shy. On occasion it’s hard for me to speak up, even when a question or issue is pounding inside my head. If you find asking certain questions embarrassing, well, you’ve got company.
Prior to being drafted, I interviewed with one team that was thinking about selecting me. At first the interview went pretty much as I expected, with questions focused on execution, strategy, work ethic, and other similar topics.
Then all of a sudden the interviewer asked me, “When you hear the word ‘woman,’ what’s the first thing that pops into your mind?”
I was surprised and had to think about that for a moment. “Respect,” I replied.
That was one heck of an awkward moment for me, to put it mildly! At first I couldn’t understand why the interviewer would ask a question that, on the surface, had nothing whatsoever to do with football.
But, in giving some thought to it later, I came to understand the value of the question and why I’d been asked it. For one thing, the NFL has struggled and continues to struggle with issues of domestic violence and treatment of women. Our society struggles too. On a practical level, I could see why the team would want to see how a player reacted to that issue when it came up out of the blue. They were looking for an honest answer from the gut—not a reply that someone had time to rehearse and practice, no matter if he truly believed what he was saying.
I also saw that the question had to do with poise. By bringing up a topic that was completely separate from anything else that had been discussed, they were trying to see how I would handle myself, how I could think on my feet in a challenging situation.
For me, it was a valuable lesson in not being afraid to ask questions. Even though I was on the receiving end of the particular inquiry, it must have been somewhat awkward for the interviewer to ask it. It showed me that direct questions need to be asked, no matter how uncomfortable you may feel. It’s the only way to learn.
Finally, I learned a lot about patience during my first Texans training camp. As I mentioned earlier, Tom Savage was the Texans’ starting quarterback. I understood that completely—he was the veteran; I was the rookie. That’s how things should be.
Still, I was in an unfamiliar spot, standing on the sidelines while someone above me on the depth chart was taking the starter’s reps. I wasn’t used to being in that position, and, although I understood why it was the way it was, I felt frustrated and uncomfortable. But I tried to follow Cam’s advice and not let myself get too low.
I knew I had to learn to be patient. No matter who you are, no matter how gifted or talented you happen to be, you have to wait for an opportunity to showcase all that ability. There are very few exceptions to that rule, and I was not one of them. Over the weeks, I began to develop a greater sense of patience, one focused on waiting for the time when I would be given the opportunity to play and hopefully excel. It wasn’t my turn yet. In a way, it was a healthy experience, learning how to be patient and prepared no matter how hungry I might be to get in and show what I could do.
Our preseason was hard to read. Tom was the starter in our first game against the Carolina Panthers. I subbed in for him in the second quarter and finished the game, completing fifteen of twenty-five passes and also scoring a touchdown on the ground. We lost 27–17.
NO MATTER WHO YOU ARE, NO MATTER HOW GIFTED OR TALENTED YOU HAPPEN TO BE, YOU HAVE TO WAIT FOR AN OPPORTUNITY TO SHOWCASE ALL THAT ABILITY.
The next game was definitely a mixed bag. Although we beat the perennial powerhouse New England Patriots, I played poorly, throwing for only three completions out of ten attempts. Still, I made the most of the experience, learning all I could from watching future Hall of Famer Tom Brady—his execution, his ability to read defenses and make effective adjustments. Watching him play, even for the brief amount of time that starters played in the preseason, was a class unto itself. It seemed like Tom approached the game as though it were the regular season or the playoffs, not preseason. You could see the intensity he put into every play.
We wrapped up the preseason with a 13–0 shutout loss to the Dallas Cowboys. By then, it was clear that the coaching staff had decided on Tom as the starting quarterback when the regular season began.
Even though the preseason produced mixed results for the team, I found it valuable from both a learning and leadership perspective. I was becoming much better at knowing what to look for, knowing what to pay particular attention to, and, just as important, placing myself in various sorts of situations to gauge how I would perform. I watched the players on the field like I had watched the toys I arranged on the living room floor as a boy, seeing where they moved and why and what I would do differently from what I was seeing.
I watched as the various leaders of the team—Tom Savage and Jadeveon Clowney, among others—interacted with the other players. I saw how they motivated them, how they occasionally broke them down to build them back up again. I saw how they expressed leadership through actions as much as words. Like Tom Brady, their approach to leadership in the preseason was as intense and focused as it would be during the regular season.
I began to recognize the constraints of my leadership, given my particular circumstances. I was the rookie, the newcomer, the young guy in the group. Sure, I thought I could lead, but I learned to do so at very specific times when it was appropriate for a young newcomer to speak up. As I’d said back when my team won the state high school championship in Georgia, I was learning it was not my time yet. I would have to wait and develop more to become a complete, fully involved leader.
I THOUGHT I COULD LEAD, BUT I LEARNED TO DO SO AT VERY SPECIFIC TIMES WHEN IT WAS APPROPRIATE FOR A YOUNG NEWCOMER TO SPEAK UP.
My commitment to learning and leadership was the right approach. My opportunity came much sooner than I ever expected.
Opening at home against Jacksonville, Tom Savage struggled against the Jaguars’ fast, intimidating defense. By halftime we trailed 19–0, and Tom had been sacked six times and lost two fumbles.
During halftime head coach Bill O’Brien pulled me aside. Although they had hoped to bring me along slowly to get a feel for the NFL, Coach said it was obvious we needed some sort of spark before the game spiraled completely out of control. He told me to start warming up. I was taking Tom’s place as quarterback.
Since then, a lot of people have asked the obvious question: What did it feel like to get in to your first professional game? On the one hand, I recognized that it was the culmination of all the preparation I had put in, from high school to college to the pros. In a way, even though I was starting on a journey, it also felt as though it was the end of another one.
I was also surprised that, after what felt like so much waiting, this was happening so quickly. To be honest, I really didn’t expect to get any significant playing time this early in my rookie season. But it worked to my advantage, in a way. Since everything happened so fast, there wasn’t time to get nervous or to overthink it. I just wanted to get out, perform, and show what I could do. My preparation and study would hopefully allow me to execute without having to think too much about it.
I played the remainder of the game against Jacksonville. In the third quarter, I threw my first NFL touchdown, and I finished with 102 passing yards. On the downside, I also threw an interception, and, most important of all, we lost 29–7. Still, it felt great to have my first regular-season playing time under my belt. I was ready to move forward.
My first career start came on September 14, 2017, which also happened to be my twenty-second birthday. We were on the road against the Cincinnati Bengals, and I wasn’t about to squander the opportunity to celebrate. On top of 125 passing yards, I also recorded a 49-yard touchdown run in a 13–9 victory—my first as a professional.
Next up was our second game of the year against defending Super Bowl champion New England—only this one counted in the standings. I was pleased with my performance: 301 passing yards, two touchdowns. But two interceptions and a loss when the game ended—36–33—were definite disappointments. Still, it felt good that we had given the Pats all they could handle.
MY FIRST CAREER START CAME ON SEPTEMBER 14, 2017, WHICH ALSO HAPPENED TO BE MY TWENTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY.
What was anything but disappointing was watching future Hall of Famer Tom Brady throw for 378 yards, five touchdowns, and no interceptions. It became clear to me that to beat teams the caliber of the Patriots and players like Tom, you had to play as flawlessly as possible. Errors were inevitable, but it was essential to make them as infrequently as possible and with the least amount of damage. I knew I had something to work toward and that it would take both time and focused effort.
That game also pinpointed another step in my leadership development. I started to understand that we as a team weren’t completely at the level of the juggernaut that was the Patriots. That, we all knew, would take time to achieve. As I watched our team leaders, I got a sense of that in how they talked with others and carried themselves. Yes, they seemed to say, we’re good, but true greatness takes time and patience. An effective leader, I was learning, never expresses impatience with goals that require time.
During week four against the Tennessee Titans, I completed twenty-five of thirty-four passes for 283 yards, four touchdowns, and one interception. I also rushed for 24 yards and one touchdown as we won handily, 57–14. My five total scores tied for the second-most touchdowns scored by a rookie in NFL history behind Gale Sayers’s six touchdowns in 1965. I also earned AFC Offensive Player of the Week. Another high.
TRUE GREATNESS TAKES TIME AND PATIENCE. AN EFFECTIVE LEADER, I WAS LEARNING, NEVER EXPRESSES IMPATIENCE WITH GOALS THAT REQUIRE TIME.
That terrific week was offset the following week with a loss to the Kansas City Chiefs, 42–34, on NBC’s Sunday Night Football. Still, I finished sixteen of thirty-one for 261 yards and five touchdown passes, tying an NFL rookie record for touchdown passes thrown in a single game.
We lost again three weeks later to the Seattle Seahawks, 41–38. Although I passed for 402 yards and four touchdowns, I also threw three interceptions—an issue I knew I had to work on. My accuracy and decision-making still needed attention, and I focused on both during practice and film study.
Nonetheless, by setting the NFL record for touchdown passes in a calendar month made by a rookie (sixteen), I was named the AFC Offensive Player of the Month and the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Month. (I was honored but also found it kind of funny, remembering Mama Maria’s ribbing about me going here and there to collect all these awards.)
Then the season simply fell apart.
The day I received AFC Offensive Player of the Month honors—just four days after the Seattle game—my teammates and I were going through a routine Thursday afternoon training session. The team had invited local members from all the military branches and their relatives as well as the families of players and staff, so there was a larger audience than we usually had for these sorts of everyday drills. Given my award-winning performance the past several weeks, I felt as though a lot of eyes were watching every move I made.
Unfortunately, I gave them more to watch than anyone ever could have expected—myself in particular.
As I went around the right end during a run-through of a play we had practiced dozens of times before, my right knee gave way under me. I fell to the ground without even being touched. At the time it seemed like the most innocent thing imaginable. I felt no pain, nothing out of the ordinary. It was as though I had simply slipped.
As I left the field, I assured the team doctors there was nothing to worry about. I had just landed in a weird way that caused my knee to lock. I wasn’t trying to hand them a line. My knee felt fine—totally normal.
But it was anything but normal. After some preliminary evaluation, the doctors insisted on a complete examination. When the results came back, I was stunned. An MRI confirmed that I had torn my ACL—again. My season was done.
Following surgery, I was looking at eight to nine months of rehab. I had been through this before at Clemson—beginning a year as a backup, later named the starter, only to suffer a torn ligament that pulled an entire season out from under me. It was gut-wrenching and all too familiar.
The first thing I did after hearing this was call my family back in Georgia. Mom’s reaction was predictable.
“Deshaun, are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom. I’m really upset.”
“Honey, take your time. We’ve been through this before.”
She said that several times more in our conversation. It was just what I needed to hear.
Next, I spoke with my agent. David was very encouraging, urging me to take things one step at a time and not to be overwhelmed by disappointment and frustration. He, too, reminded me that I had overcome a similar situation before.
I HAD BEEN THROUGH THIS BEFORE AT CLEMSON—BEGINNING A YEAR AS A BACKUP, LATER NAMED THE STARTER, ONLY TO SUFFER A TORN LIGAMENT THAT PULLED AN ENTIRE SEASON OUT FROM UNDER ME. IT WAS GUT-WRENCHING AND ALL TOO FAMILIAR.
I knew this was just another low, and I tried not to let it get me down. I determined not to let my injury keep me from contributing to the team, so I decided it was time to study film—and study it with a particularly strong commitment. I reviewed Sunday’s game plan against the Indianapolis Colts to see if I could identify anything that might be valuable. The next morning I joined the team at practice, offering to help Tom Savage—the veteran I’d replaced during the season opener—in any way I could.
Even though I couldn’t play for the rest of the year, I knew I had to do what I could to be of service to the team. While I couldn’t physically take part in practices and games, I still had something to contribute. I wasn’t about to ignore any opportunity to continue to serve. In that sense, my injury didn’t compromise my commitment in the least; if anything, it broadened it, since I had to be constantly watching for opportunities to contribute other than on the playing field itself. I was learning what it meant to be a leader who was always willing to serve.
I also knew that I had a role in how the team reacted to my injury. I remember watching a television analyst describe how the Texans needed to handle their emotional response to what had occurred. While my injury was discouraging, my teammates and I had to direct our attention to the remainder of the season and deal with the reality of the situation. I knew I had to contribute in every way possible to making sure my teammates’ disappointment at my injury didn’t impact their attitude moving forward.
WHILE I COULDN’T PHYSICALLY TAKE PART IN PRACTICES AND GAMES, I STILL HAD SOMETHING TO CONTRIBUTE.
My teammate and star defensive lineman J. J. Watt set the tone when he tweeted: “Minor setback for a major comeback. We’ve all seen what’s possible, can’t wait to see what’s next. With you every step of the way [No.] 4.”2
I had a lot of disappointment and—yes—anger at having sustained a season-ending injury, but I tried to keep Cam Newton’s advice in mind. One thing that helped was realizing that even though my injury was a very big deal for me and my team, I was not the only person in Houston who was having a tough time.
Some were dealing with far worse.
Not long before the start of the 2017 season, Hurricane Harvey devastated Houston and much of the Gulf Coast. The storm killed sixty-eight people and caused about $125 billion in damages. I knew of three ladies who worked in the Texans’ practice facility cafeteria who, from what I had heard, had lost pretty much everything they owned in the hurricane. What I was going through now was nothing compared with what those three ladies had to deal with. It was a reminder of the lesson I had learned during my mom’s battle with cancer: however challenging my situation was, there was always somebody else who needed help and support more than I did. It was important to keep looking around me and not merely focus on myself.
HOWEVER CHALLENGING MY SITUATION WAS, THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMEBODY ELSE WHO NEEDED HELP AND SUPPORT MORE THAN I DID.
Because I came from a background where we had little, I knew what it felt like to struggle with deprivation. In the case of the three cafeteria ladies, though, it had been so sudden, so cruel. Scarcity came like a thief who had broken into their homes and taken everything of value to them, including the house itself. Despite that, they and others continued to report to work, some as early as 4:30 a.m., to make sure a team of professional athletes—men essentially playing a boy’s game—were properly fed.
The reality of the tragedy those three ladies had suffered seemed out of proportion with fifty-some wealthy athletes downing the calories they needed to perform.
So I decided to do something about it. One morning I giggled self-consciously as I carried three ribbon-wrapped envelopes into the cafeteria. The three women who had lost everything were standing to one side. I handed each of them an envelope with a check for a third of my first NFL game paycheck.
“For what you all do for us every day and never complain, I really appreciate y’all, so I wanted to give my first game check to y’all to help y’all out in some type of way,” I told them. “Hopefully, that’s good and that can get you back on your feet. And anything else y’all need, I’m always here to help.”
Tears streamed down the women’s faces as we all hugged. It was as rewarding a moment as any I’ve ever had in my life. I was focused on what I had and what I could offer to those who had less. Cameras rolled to push the experience into the viral world of television and the internet. I had resisted that part at first because I had wanted to do this in a low-key way. But the public relations people insisted because they knew that spreading the word would lead other people to reach out and help hurricane victims too.
And it worked. Other members of the team stepped up and made donations to help the ladies get back on their feet. On a larger scale, my teammate J. J. Watt spearheaded a fundraising effort, raising tens of millions of dollars to help rebuild hundreds of homes, childcare centers, and after-school programs throughout the Houston area. I’d always admired J. J.’s character and leadership, and his efforts toward hurricane relief made me even prouder to call him my teammate.
But still there was the issue of my injury. As we closed out the 2017–18 season, I committed to regaining my health so I could be fully prepared for the next season.
I had plenty of time to think about that good advice Cam Newton had given me as I worked to get back into shape, and I realized that his wisdom was really all about balance. I try to maintain that sense of balance in everything I do.
For instance, as a professional athlete, I understand that many elements go into being a successful NFL quarterback. With that in mind, I try to strike a balance in my training, not focusing on any one aspect of my play but giving every skill due attention. It’s helped me become a better, more well-rounded athlete overall.
I try to do the same in my personal life. Although it can be difficult with the schedule of a professional athlete, I try to strike a balance between the various people and activities outside of football. Naturally, family is often at the top of the list, but so too are friends, activities that I enjoy, my faith, and work in the community. I try to make it so that no one area suffers from a lack of attention because of undue focus on something else.
Thinking about my life in terms of balance has helped me make better decisions and respond to unforeseen circumstances too. If I’m faced with a problem, I try to take the time to slow down and consider every aspect of the situation. I think: What can I do to address the problem? What’s outside of my control? What’s the best possible outcome? What’s the worst?
By prompting myself to move beyond merely reacting and, instead, weighing every aspect of what’s going on around me, chances are good that I’m more balanced in my approach to the situation. And that leads to better decision-making.
I’ve developed a way to help me maintain the sort of balance that leads to good choices. It took a while to get a handle on it, but now I try to see myself from a third-person perspective, as though some impartial outsider is watching what I do and offering suggestions for improvement. This allows me to make changes without feeling bad about them or getting down on myself for what I see as weakness or a stupid mistake.
AS SOMEONE ONCE TOLD ME ABOUT BALANCE, “IF YOU’RE TOO BIG FOR THE SMALL MOMENTS, YOU’LL BE TOO SMALL IN THE BIG MOMENTS.”
Maintaining balance means you are able to keep your head while everyone around you is losing theirs. As someone once told me about balance, “If you’re too big for the small moments, you’ll be too small in the big moments.”
In other words—never get too high and never sink too low.
PASS IT ON
• Think back to a time that was particularly stressful. How did you handle it? Were you able to maintain your composure, or did you get caught up in the emotion of the moment? Did you feel a sense of balance, of not getting too excited or too disappointed if things did or didn’t go your way?
• Do you have a strategy for balancing the various responsibilities and stresses in your life? How do you think you do at managing it?
• Why do you think it’s important to not let yourself focus too much on either extreme highs or extreme lows? How do you find the middle ground?
YOUR CHALLENGE
When you next confront a tense situation or some similar challenge, pay attention to how you react. Work to keep your focus and perspective. It may not be perfect, but the more you work at always having a sense of balance, the better you will be, even in the most challenging circumstances.
THE DESHAUN WATSON FOUNDATION
Helping those women in the cafeteria felt good—so good that I knew I wanted to find a way to help others more regularly. Happily, with my position in sports and the community as a whole, I’ve been blessed to make that ambition come alive in a rather big fashion.
In early October 2019, I announced the launch of my charitable organization, the Deshaun Watson Foundation. The nonprofit is dedicated to the support of families and young people in underserved communities.
The foundation focuses on four key elements:
1. Housing: The organization will offer rent and mortgage assistance for families who need help to find a safe, healthy place to call home.
2. Education: The foundation will provide college scholarships and other forms of financial assistance to qualified and deserving students. The organization will also target financial assistance and support to other types of schools and educational programs to better prepare young people for the professional and personal challenges of adulthood.
3. Health: The Deshaun Watson Foundation will offer financial and other forms of support for families and children confronted with life-changing medical situations. Just as important, the foundation will assist with offering and promoting various forms of preventative health care.
4. Other Charitable Causes: The foundation will also identify and support other initiatives benefiting families and children.
Going down this list, it’s easy to see why this foundation’s activities mean so much for me. Given my life-changing experience with Habitat for Humanity, I was determined to make housing a cornerstone of the foundation’s activities. So, too, the many benefits and blessings I received through an amazing education at Clemson University made educational support of all sorts a vital aspect of the organization.
Lastly, my mom’s struggle with cancer ensured that health care would also serve a prominent role in the foundation. If I can help even one family avoid or better deal with the horror that is cancer, I will feel both blessed and honored.
As I learned through the challenges and struggles of my life, a leader always makes certain to give back and put others ahead of him-or herself. In my case, I’m able to do it on a fairly significant scale, but no matter the circumstances, we can all benefit and grow as leaders if we look to put others ahead of our own goals and interests.
Looking to become involved? Check out the Deshaun Watson Foundation at https://www.deshaunwatsonfoundation.org for further information and opportunities to donate or participate in foundation activities and events.