Quiet Strength by Tony Dungy, Nathan Whitaker Page B
Authors: Tony Dungy, Nathan Whitaker
Tags: Biographies
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Levy, had spoken with me a number of times before the draft.
“See what happens in the draft, but keep your mind open to coming here,” he said. “You’d be perfect for this game with your style. You’ll be in this league for a long time.”
Looking back, I think the National Football League couldn’t figure out what to do with a black quarterback who wasn’t a prototypical drop-back, passing quarterback. The following year, 1978, Doug Williams came out of Grambling State and was drafted in the first round by the Buccaneers. Doug, however, had tools I didn’t have: he was about three inches taller than my six-foot-one frame, had about thirty pounds more than my 180, and was a pocket passer with a cannon for an arm. I was more like Warren Moon, who came out of the University of Washington the same year. Warren wasn’t drafted either, and he started his career in the Canadian Football League.
A number of the NFL free-agent calls were offering me between $1,000 and $1,500 as a signing bonus. By contrast, Montreal was offering me a bonus of $50,000. However, I had always had my sights set on the NFL; I wanted to compete against the players I felt were the very best. I was hoping for a divine signal that would make my decision clear, even if it meant signing to play a totally new position.
Lord, I’d really like to play in the NFL, but it doesn’t appear to make a whole lot of sense right now. I’ve pretty much got a guarantee to make the team as the quarterback in Montreal for more money, but I really want to try the NFL, even though it’ll be at a position I’ve never played. Please help me figure out what to do. I prayed that prayer—and others like it—repeatedly over the next few days.
It would have been helpful to have a clear sign as to the direction the Lord wanted me to go—maybe something plastered on a billboard on the side of the road or flashed on a scoreboard at a stadium or written clearly in the clouds with a divine finger. I have to admit that I looked in all those places, just in case.
At that moment, even a powerful wind, earthquake, or fire similar to what Elijah had experienced would have been helpful—although, as it turned out, the Lord didn’t appear to Elijah in any of those. Instead, it was a gentle whisper—a still, small voice—in which Elijah heard the Lord speaking. How did Elijah do that? I have always felt I needed a loud voice or a clear sign to help me make decisions in times like that.
I didn’t hear the audible voice, but in my heart I still felt led to the NFL. I talked with Tom Sherman of the Buffalo Bills, who wanted to play me at free safety. I was ready to head up there to play when Tom Moore, my college coach, entered the picture again.
Tom had left the University of Minnesota after my senior season and joined Woody Widenhofer as a wide receivers coach with the Pittsburgh Steelers. Tom and Woody had spoken with the Steelers head coach, Chuck Noll, and told him that I was a bright guy who could fit somewhere within their organization. They didn’t need another quarterback—they’d taken Cliff Stoudt in the fifth round—but Tom told me he was sure I could help the Steelers in some way. I updated him on the Bills situation, letting him know that Tom Sherman was mailing a contract to me the next morning. Tom Moore hopped on a flight and brought the Steelers contract with him, ensuring he arrived before the mail.
I called Tom Sherman and explained that I knew several coaches with the Steelers and felt that was the better opportunity. Then I signed with the Pittsburgh Steelers for a bonus of $2,200, plus another $20,000 in salary if I made the team. I was so excited and sure that was where God wanted me to go—until I started telling my friends.
“Are you nuts? What position do you think you’re going to play?” The Steelers had just missed going to their third straight Super Bowl in 1976. “You think you’re going to play receiver? Ever heard of John
“See what happens in the draft, but keep your mind open to coming here,” he said. “You’d be perfect for this game with your style. You’ll be in this league for a long time.”
Looking back, I think the National Football League couldn’t figure out what to do with a black quarterback who wasn’t a prototypical drop-back, passing quarterback. The following year, 1978, Doug Williams came out of Grambling State and was drafted in the first round by the Buccaneers. Doug, however, had tools I didn’t have: he was about three inches taller than my six-foot-one frame, had about thirty pounds more than my 180, and was a pocket passer with a cannon for an arm. I was more like Warren Moon, who came out of the University of Washington the same year. Warren wasn’t drafted either, and he started his career in the Canadian Football League.
A number of the NFL free-agent calls were offering me between $1,000 and $1,500 as a signing bonus. By contrast, Montreal was offering me a bonus of $50,000. However, I had always had my sights set on the NFL; I wanted to compete against the players I felt were the very best. I was hoping for a divine signal that would make my decision clear, even if it meant signing to play a totally new position.
Lord, I’d really like to play in the NFL, but it doesn’t appear to make a whole lot of sense right now. I’ve pretty much got a guarantee to make the team as the quarterback in Montreal for more money, but I really want to try the NFL, even though it’ll be at a position I’ve never played. Please help me figure out what to do. I prayed that prayer—and others like it—repeatedly over the next few days.
It would have been helpful to have a clear sign as to the direction the Lord wanted me to go—maybe something plastered on a billboard on the side of the road or flashed on a scoreboard at a stadium or written clearly in the clouds with a divine finger. I have to admit that I looked in all those places, just in case.
At that moment, even a powerful wind, earthquake, or fire similar to what Elijah had experienced would have been helpful—although, as it turned out, the Lord didn’t appear to Elijah in any of those. Instead, it was a gentle whisper—a still, small voice—in which Elijah heard the Lord speaking. How did Elijah do that? I have always felt I needed a loud voice or a clear sign to help me make decisions in times like that.
I didn’t hear the audible voice, but in my heart I still felt led to the NFL. I talked with Tom Sherman of the Buffalo Bills, who wanted to play me at free safety. I was ready to head up there to play when Tom Moore, my college coach, entered the picture again.
Tom had left the University of Minnesota after my senior season and joined Woody Widenhofer as a wide receivers coach with the Pittsburgh Steelers. Tom and Woody had spoken with the Steelers head coach, Chuck Noll, and told him that I was a bright guy who could fit somewhere within their organization. They didn’t need another quarterback—they’d taken Cliff Stoudt in the fifth round—but Tom told me he was sure I could help the Steelers in some way. I updated him on the Bills situation, letting him know that Tom Sherman was mailing a contract to me the next morning. Tom Moore hopped on a flight and brought the Steelers contract with him, ensuring he arrived before the mail.
I called Tom Sherman and explained that I knew several coaches with the Steelers and felt that was the better opportunity. Then I signed with the Pittsburgh Steelers for a bonus of $2,200, plus another $20,000 in salary if I made the team. I was so excited and sure that was where God wanted me to go—until I started telling my friends.
“Are you nuts? What position do you think you’re going to play?” The Steelers had just missed going to their third straight Super Bowl in 1976. “You think you’re going to play receiver? Ever heard of John
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