Winning: From Walk-On to Captain, in Football and Life. Gary Brackett
the effect this might have on them. He told me, “Don’t worry about me, Coach. I’ll do what I have to do to be ready.” Through it all, he was still concerned about his teammates. That’s what makes a captain. That’s what makes a leader.
Taking care of your family and community is very important to me, and I’m just as proud of those things as I am about what our team accomplished. Establishing priorities about what’s truly most important for young men was explained to me first when I was a rookie with the Steelers. Art Rooney, the owner of the team, would sit down with the new players every year and tell them, “You’re going to have a lot of fun playing professional football. But don’t ever forget that you’re also representing this city and this team. You have to understand your status and don’t take it for granted.” I tried to pass that approach along to all the teams I coached.
It’s great to be a Colt, I tell the team. It’s a great lifestyle. Don’t forget, though, your responsibility off the field as well. Playing well, playing to win on Sunday is important. But there’s also the rest of the week when you are a citizen, part of this community.
That’s what it’s all about—encouraging young people and spending time at high schools, teaching kids about the value of education and helping them deal with their problems. Gary, because of his experiences, has developed an amazing compassion that makes him special. When he shares his story, he knows to talk not only about the wins, but also about the losses.
You have to remind yourself that the pros are just young men, with the emphasis on young. There will be, on occasion, tragedies that arise with their parents—they are of that age. But to lose both parents and a brother in such a short time, like Gary did, you have to wonder if someone can persevere through all that. You can’t downplay ability, because it’s not all intangibles and emotion, and this is a very tough, very physical game; so the player’s mind has to be just as strong as his body. Gary’s experiences of fighting for a place on the team, at every level, and then fighting through seasons when the team was not winning, those experiences tempered him. Those ordeals helped make him strong enough to face the bigger crises in his personal life.
When you suffer those moments that emotionally take the air out of you, if and how you come back determines how you will fare in life. It’s how you come back from the losses of life, not losses of games, that defines you as a team and as person. The Colts suffered many devastating losses off the field, starting in ’03 with Gary’s family, my son in ’05, and Reggie Wayne’s brother in ’06. These events are not something you prepare for as a coach as you’re trying to get your team ready to play on Sunday. Through it all, our team would always come together, drawing closer, getting stronger through this support.
Because of Gary’s family experience, his role as captain became even more crucial during those times. To be Gary’s age and understand that leading a team with perseverance is more gratifying than any game-wining play is simply incredible. But that’s who Gary is—a very brave, tough, thoughtful, and caring man who’s destined for even greater things in life.
1
You know how some days you wake up and just feel different? And how the craziest of things can get you going? Well, this was one of those days. The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter through the window. My breakfast tasted a little better. The SportsCenter anchor’s jokes were slightly funnier.
It was almost like Christmas morning, except instead of a football or the toys I anxiously awaited as a child, on this day I awaited something…a bit different. The doorbell rang. A FedEx van pulled away as I reached the front door, where an Astor & Black box sat. This could only be one thing. I knew it was my suit. This was going to be clean, I tell you. Clean! Clean is the only word that works when things are this perfect. I’m gonna be cleaner than the Board of Health. To go with this perfect suit, I found the exact pair of socks I needed. Purple socks for a gray suit with purple pinstripes. What could be cleaner than that?
The buzz of a text message snapped me back to reality.
“What time we leavin’?”
I responded right back: “Same.”
Since everything was going right, change would be foolish—I intended to ride this wave all the way. He wanted later, I wanted earlier. We had met in the middle and agreed on 1:00. I always wanted to be on time, but he liked to cut it close. Other than that, my boy Cato and I were cut from the same cloth. Since we worked together and lived right next to each other, carpooling made a lot of sense—even more sense in the winter. After a three-hour plane ride, nothing would stink more than digging a car out of February snow all alone.
I walked over to Cato’s house, hurdling across the stepping-stones to avoid the snow. The cold invigorated me; the day kept getting better. Cato was decked out in a fine tan suit with an orange liner and orange stripes. He hadn’t stopped there: even his shoes were orange.
“You went all out, huh, Cato?”
He laughed, “A man’s got to coordinate…got to coordinate! Like I say, unison makes you look good, feel good, and play good.”
Normally in the NFL, players order suits to wear as they travel. I usually ordered around six a year and recycled a couple from the previous season. But for the Super Bowl, we took everything up a notch. Just like a businessman who wants to look his best for big deals, football players want to look especially good for big games. So, many players get suits specially tailored for them in preparation for the biggest game. The tailor already has your measurements from throughout the year, so you select the colors or cut, tell them about any extras you want added, put in the rush order, and wait anxiously. Well, that is what Cato and I did, and the results were definitely worth the wait!
As we stood together laughing over our fits, particularly fine suits for this day, Cato asked, “How you feelin’, G Baby?”
He always referred to me as G Baby, one of my many nicknames in many circles.
“Good, man, good,” I replied.
“When’s your fam heading down?”
“Prob next week.”
“Who’s coming with? Mom and dad? Brothers and sisters?”
And just like that, the morning’s good mood dropped a few degrees as Cato realized his misstep.
“No, man, just the brothers and sister.”
“Aw, my bad. That’s what I meant.”
I didn’t blame him. People shouldn’t have to tiptoe around my parents’ passing. After all, no one expects someone this young to be in my situation. Of the many challenges I’ve faced, this one continues to shake me: life’s highs just aren’t the same without my parents. But, every person, even those who might be considered “average” faces extraordinary challenges. We are all forged and fueled by fires. I don’t believe we can ever prevent them, so the crucial question is how well we will handle them? Will we burn away, or will we develop resilience for future fights? Will we shrink or grow? I say grow. Fight or take flight? I guess I was always one to choose fight.
Cato and I came up together in the league. In 2003, he was a sixth-round draft pick out of Michigan and I was an undrafted rookie free agent, which meant that during tryouts—I still remember the anxiety—we had plenty of reasons to worry about whether or not we would make the squad.
We have shared, and still share, many common experiences. As the big money earners in our families, we both feel responsible for others in a way we didn’t experience until making the NFL. We both know what it’s like to have others look to you for help. We also share the common drive to be the most-prepared player each and every day we step on the field. Whereas most players watch game film on DVD players, Cato and I both bring computers, like the coaches, to review and dissect film more