Don’t get it twisted: I, too, often get stuck into life’s unwanted grind. It’s a struggle when seeking an escape. Worse yet, depending on the situation, time stuck there varies.
Thankfully, however, one specific part of the calendar year reminds me to stay alert and smell all that football brings us.
I’m, of course, I’m referring to training camp.
The 2024 New York Jets are set to bring fans their annual Green and White Scrimmage on Saturday, which means I cannot help but think about camp.
It takes me back nearly three decades—29 years ago, to be exact, to Hofstra for my first-ever camp with the Jets.
At this point in life, I can finally get a chance to reflect on that particular day while considering some of the major questions of the moment:
- How did I do?
- What could I have done better?
- Why didn’t I get more reps?
- Can I really do this?
- Will I actually get my chance?
For me, it was simple: I actually kept life simple.
I talked to my family, and I’m sure my then-girlfriend Amy (who’s now my wife), wanting to keep the most important people in my life the nearest to me. Whether it was advice, encouragement, or a pat on the back, that type of inner-circle support was and remains critical.
At the end of the day, what happens on the field is king. And the bottom line is this: I was willing to do anything possible to make them take notice. I’m talking about head coach Rich Kotite, Boomer Esiason, any one of the numerous front office members, fellow camp attendees and/or future Jets teammates, etc.
A familiar question would arise in the Summer of 1995: “What can make me stand out from the rest?”
Some guys have crazy haircuts, an absurd number of weird wristbands, and/or a certain style that makes them stand out in specific ways. Although a variety of unique personalities is always a positive thing, one of the things I’ve known about myself from an early age is the following …
That just isn’t me.
Forget all the flashy stuff; I think I’ve always understood that staying true to myself would cut through as much of the noise as possible, only increasing my chances of making the team.
And the question I often repeated to myself was the following: “What were they going to remember me for?:
- The guy who never let the ball hit the ground?
- The guy who never ever dropped a pass?
- The guy who got it done no matter the ball placement (high, low, good throw, bad throw, etc.)?
- The guy who sought contact every possible RAC chance I received?
My answer: “Yes, please.”
Sure, the “contact” stuff is sort of sadistic, but this isn’t just football we’re talking about; this is football in the mid-1990s. Fighting through contact was just one of the many attributes at the position back then—and one I was always up for.
As an undrafted free agent out of Hofstra, that first day of camp was all I had. No tomorrows were guaranteed, and if a second opportunity never arrived, I was prepared to turn heads before it came to an end.
It’s much different these days. Rather than hard-hitting contact, NFL camps resemble more of an Underwear Olympic-type feel (no real contact or risk of contact). While true, that does not disqualify today’s players.
Football is still football, and life is still life.
With New York Jets camp in full swing, I wish every player luck in Florham Park, NJ, and I urge each individual to find the time to slow down their world where and when possible.
Now that I’ve taken that time, I can only end on a note I’ve proudly felt since July of 1995: “I can’t wait to get hit by somebody.”
