and kept an eye on me, but when our offense went back on the field, I went with them. Now my head was really pounding, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I had to concentrate hard on the play calls, but in some strange way the injury actually relaxed me. I played two possessions after taking that blow to the head, and on the second one I threw a thirty-three-yard touchdown pass.
When I returned to the sideline, Cam Cameron approached me. “Listen, I know you got dinged. How are you feeling? What percentage are you?”
“I don’t know. Seventy? Sixty? I’m not all here, but I’m fine.”
“You are not going back in this game,” Cam said. “I can’t risk it.”
“There’s no way I’m coming out.”
“If you go back in and you take another shot, you could really get hurt, Drew.” Studies have shown how serious hits like these can be. Cam knew better. He had his wits about him, and I didn’t.
Physically things progressed from bad to worse for me. My head was pounding something awful. Marty put Flutie in, since he was technically my backup. Later I heard that management was upset—they wanted to get Philip in the game. He hadn’t taken a snap yet.
The Jets ended up beating us 34–28. The next week we played the Broncos in Denver, which had been a tough venue for us in the past. I had come back from the concussion, but I didn’t play well. We lost 23–13. We were sitting at 1–2 with the Tennessee Titans coming to town. That week Marty came to me with an announcement: he was upgrading Philip to the backup position.
“So what?”
“Just wanted you to know,” Marty said.
I heard the underlying message—I was on a short leash. If I didn’t play well, I would be pulled. Philip would be going in. I gave Marty a look that said, I don’t care who the backup quarterback is because he’s never going to see the field.
It was during this time that I had a conversation with Lorenzo Neal I’ll never forget. Lorenzo was our fullback—one of the best blocking fullbacks in the league—and in my book he deserves to be in the Hall of Fame. He told me, “This is the moment you need to decide something. Are you going to be a great player in this league or a career backup? Take this challenge and turn it into motivation. I know you’re going to be a Pro Bowl player. You’re going to be a championship quarterback.” He didn’t see me as a backup. He saw me as championship material. Sometimes when you feel like you have been beaten down so much, all you need is for someone to show that they believe in you.
The Tennessee game was a pivotal one in the season. Whatever happened, we didn’t want to go 1–3. But things didn’t start out well. I just couldn’t seem to find the rhythm I wanted. On a third-down play in the second quarter, I went back for a pass and got thrown to the ground like a slingshot by Rien Long. My body landed hard and in an awkward position. Immediately I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. Either I’d broken my collarbone or I had just separated my shoulder. As I walked to the sideline, my arm felt like a dead weight.
The doctors checked it and said I’d separated my AC joint, probably a grade two or grade three separation. Philip Rivers began to warm up on the sideline. I thought about what Lorenzo Neal had said. Do I want to be a career backup? If I come out of the game right now, even for one play, that may be my destiny. Who knows if I’ll ever get an opportunity again.
Just then Lorenzo walked over to me. During training camp he had given me a nickname: PB, for Pro Bowler. I hadn’t thought much about the Pro Bowl before. I was just trying to win back my job as starting quarterback. Making it to the Pro Bowl was the furthest thing from my mind.
Lorenzo saw the doctors examining me. “Come on, PB, we need you. This is your time. Right here. Right now. Show them what you got.”
I knew then that no matter what happened, I had to tough out the injury and find a way to get back
When I returned to the sideline, Cam Cameron approached me. “Listen, I know you got dinged. How are you feeling? What percentage are you?”
“I don’t know. Seventy? Sixty? I’m not all here, but I’m fine.”
“You are not going back in this game,” Cam said. “I can’t risk it.”
“There’s no way I’m coming out.”
“If you go back in and you take another shot, you could really get hurt, Drew.” Studies have shown how serious hits like these can be. Cam knew better. He had his wits about him, and I didn’t.
Physically things progressed from bad to worse for me. My head was pounding something awful. Marty put Flutie in, since he was technically my backup. Later I heard that management was upset—they wanted to get Philip in the game. He hadn’t taken a snap yet.
The Jets ended up beating us 34–28. The next week we played the Broncos in Denver, which had been a tough venue for us in the past. I had come back from the concussion, but I didn’t play well. We lost 23–13. We were sitting at 1–2 with the Tennessee Titans coming to town. That week Marty came to me with an announcement: he was upgrading Philip to the backup position.
“So what?”
“Just wanted you to know,” Marty said.
I heard the underlying message—I was on a short leash. If I didn’t play well, I would be pulled. Philip would be going in. I gave Marty a look that said, I don’t care who the backup quarterback is because he’s never going to see the field.
It was during this time that I had a conversation with Lorenzo Neal I’ll never forget. Lorenzo was our fullback—one of the best blocking fullbacks in the league—and in my book he deserves to be in the Hall of Fame. He told me, “This is the moment you need to decide something. Are you going to be a great player in this league or a career backup? Take this challenge and turn it into motivation. I know you’re going to be a Pro Bowl player. You’re going to be a championship quarterback.” He didn’t see me as a backup. He saw me as championship material. Sometimes when you feel like you have been beaten down so much, all you need is for someone to show that they believe in you.
The Tennessee game was a pivotal one in the season. Whatever happened, we didn’t want to go 1–3. But things didn’t start out well. I just couldn’t seem to find the rhythm I wanted. On a third-down play in the second quarter, I went back for a pass and got thrown to the ground like a slingshot by Rien Long. My body landed hard and in an awkward position. Immediately I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. Either I’d broken my collarbone or I had just separated my shoulder. As I walked to the sideline, my arm felt like a dead weight.
The doctors checked it and said I’d separated my AC joint, probably a grade two or grade three separation. Philip Rivers began to warm up on the sideline. I thought about what Lorenzo Neal had said. Do I want to be a career backup? If I come out of the game right now, even for one play, that may be my destiny. Who knows if I’ll ever get an opportunity again.
Just then Lorenzo walked over to me. During training camp he had given me a nickname: PB, for Pro Bowler. I hadn’t thought much about the Pro Bowl before. I was just trying to win back my job as starting quarterback. Making it to the Pro Bowl was the furthest thing from my mind.
Lorenzo saw the doctors examining me. “Come on, PB, we need you. This is your time. Right here. Right now. Show them what you got.”
I knew then that no matter what happened, I had to tough out the injury and find a way to get back
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