—
October 4, 2014…Vaught-Hemmingway Stadium in Oxford, Mississippi…
Ole Miss led Alabama 3-0 with 14:54 left in the second quarter. Bama had the ball, 3rd down and 9 at their own 31-yard line.
Bama set up a middle screen to running back Kenyan Drake. Drake made a cut at around the 39 before two Ole Miss defenders cut him off. He had to make the 41 for the first down, and he did just that.
I’ve seen enough football in my life to know that what was next for Drake was bad news.
He was on the ground writhing in pain. He takes his helmet off and throws it down in agony.
Even an Ole Miss defender wearing #5 (I’m sorry but I don’t remember his name) held his hands on his head as if to say “yeah, this guy is hurt really bad.”
Not only was Drake seriously injured – he had a compound fracture of his ankle and was out for the rest of the season – but Bama ended up losing that game to Ole Miss. The first time Bama had lost to the Rebels in many, many years.
That ended up being Bama’s lone defeat on the regular season. They ended up losing to eventual national champion Ohio State in the Sugar Bowl in the first round of the inaugural college football playoffs. Despite the fact Bama was pretty soundly defeated in that game, I call this the absolute most heartbreaking loss I can remember. It wasn’t simply because Bama lost a football game. That game was played less than a week after my Dad’s funeral.
I didn’t cry because we lost the game. I cried because I wanted that game for Tony…
Let’s flash forward to January 11, 2016.
2015 was the worst year of my life…up until 2019 that is.
I put every ounce of myself into the Men in Crimson that season. Oddly enough, Bama’s lone loss that season came at home to those same Ole Miss Rebels…
Bama won the SEC championship again in the 2015 season. They also went on to completely body Michigan State in the Cotton Bowl to advance to that season’s national championship game against Clemson.
Midway through the 4th quarter (which was the most epic quarter of football I’ve seen until that point) the score was 31-27 Alabama. Clemson had just scored to cut the lead to those four points.
Clemson’s kickoff went to the 5 along the near side of the field closest to the TV camera.
Receiving the kickoff was Kenyan Drake…
He takes a long lateral cut to the far side of the field. And the way the play opened for him was absolutely miraculous.
I’m at a bar watching the game. And I yell out loud “holy s***, he’s gonna run this back!” And what do you know, he ran it all the way back!
Drake felt a defender closing on him inside the 5. And frankly, he was gassed. He leaps from around the 2 and he’s holding the ball out toward the end zone cone. He’s flying through the air and got in for the touchdown.
His teammates mob him in the end zone. And as I watched this unfold, I felt a tear escape from my eye.
Bama went on to win the game 45-40. And I cried tears of joy that night.
Here’s the punchline: that game was played in Glendale, Arizona…which is a suburb of Phoenix.
The phoenix…this has been a spirit animal for me over the past year. Time and time again, I rise. Time and time again, I triumph.
But even the mighty phoenix can be taken down by a 12 gauge shotgun.
I finally thought I was soaring. I thought my troubles were over. I thought things were good.
But that was before I got let go from my dream job.
I won’t go into detail as to why I was let go after only a month. I harbor no ill will or bad feelings toward anyone with this company. I love them all. It was just a poor fit from the beginning.
I got the news around 1:30 on a Friday. For the next hour or so, I wandered the streets of downtown White Plains. I found a park bench and proceeded to sob uncontrollably for several minutes.
This was also around the time when my internal dialogue started to really go off the rails.
“Maybe I don’t deserve to be here.”
“Maybe I should go to the train station and step out in front of the 3:15 to Grand Central.”
I mean, things got DARK, y’all. Very dark!
I’m not proud of this. I AM proud for sticking it out.
Instead of getting in front of the 3:15 to Grand Central, I got ON the 3:15 to Grand Central. I needed to reconnect with the magic I once felt for this area.
When I got to Grand Central, I sort of wandered around for a little while. I wandered by the 30 Rock Christmas tree. I went past the famous Saks Fifth Avenue display.
But then I remembered, St. Patrick’s Cathedral is right across from 30 Rockefeller Center.
I’m not catholic. I’m not sure I’m even Christian. But I went inside and sat down.
I felt something incredibly powerful. It was a crazy feeling.
It was hope.
It was an idea that there was something bigger than me at play here. This spirit was saying to me “Ryan, you’ll be okay. I’ve got something bigger for you. This wasn’t your best fit anyway.”
Strangely, I felt as if my wings were starting to flap ever so slightly.
I can only imagine that Kenyan Drake wen through some dark times as he was rehabilitating his injury.
Flashing forward to Bama’s game against Mississippi State in November of 2015. Drake was covering a kickoff when he broke his arm
Unlike his leg injury, the arm only kept him out a couple of games.
Just a few months later, he’s scoring one of the most beautiful touchdowns I’ve ever seen.
I have a hunch this latest setback is going to wind up being like Kenyan Drake’s arm injury.
Not a ton of coaching in this piece, I get it. I hope to bring that back next week.
Never lose hope. Hope is the most valuable currency known to the human race. Find it wherever you can and never let it go.
Sometimes hope may be the only thing you have.
By the way, there’s actually a punchline with all this. Guess where Drake was traded to this season? The Arizona Cardinals from Phoenix!
The Phoenix King will rise again.
—
◊♦◊
Sign up for our Writing Prompts email to receive writing inspiration in your inbox twice per week.
Photo: Shutterstock