Through My Eyes Part 6

I played pretty well in the Orange and Blue Game that spring and led my team to victory, but the thing I was most proud of? I never lost once in Coach Mick's mat drills, and after that first year of drills, he told me that I wasn't going to be doing them anymore. As a quarterback, they apparently didn't want to risk my getting hurt trying to open a bathroom stall door.

And, thankfully, throughout everything, Coach Meyer didn't pay attention to any of the media reports. Some sports writers took it upon themselves to write articles proclaiming that my style of play would never work in college football. In many ways I thought I'd silenced this debate from my freshman year of high school with how I'd played, and yet here I was again, four years later, hearing the same old "playing position by body stereotype" argument-only this time it was disguised as a.n.a.lysis: My type of quarterback wouldn't work in college.

I didn't have the right body type to run the spread offense.

I wouldn't survive in the SEC with my style of play against the kind of defenses we would see.

I could help the team more at a different position.

I should be a tight end.

Or a fullback.

I read the articles, and they simply served as more fuel for all my workouts. I would show them, and I would stay a quarterback.

After all, I think I did okay in high school. My first summer at Florida, my mom and I went to pick up a trophy at an awards ceremony at the National Quarterback Club in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC. I won for high school, Vince Young for college, and Ben Roethlisberger for the pros. The trophy was enormous-it came up to my waist. Making matters worse, I couldn't check it for the flight, so I had to carry that huge trophy through the airport and onto the flight. Embarra.s.sing.

Chapter Ten.

Getting My Feet Wet in the Swamp.

In everything give thanks; for this is G.o.d's will for you in Christ Jesus.

-1 THESSALONIANS 5:18.

By the time the regular season rolled around, I was feeling relatively comfortable in the offense. There was a lot to learn, but I was pleased that I had come in early and been there for spring practice. The offensive plan was getting more familiar, and I was getting more comfortable with my ability to execute it at some level if given the opportunity.

Before I knew it, our opening game had arrived-against Southern Mississippi-a home game at the Swamp. It really did seem like it was still part of an earlier childhood dream. I remember how excited I was to walk off the bus and through the Gator Walk, a gauntlet of exuberant fans, into the stadium. And to run out of the tunnel for the first time. To be a part of all the excitement. Putting on the uniform with my new number, 15 (when I arrived, Bubba Caldwell already had my high school number, 5), and heading out for my first pregame warm-ups as a Gator. As we gathered in the tunnel, seeing the footage of live alligators on the video board and hearing the voiceover: "The Swamp. Only Gators get out alive." The crowd working itself into a frenzy. It all still seemed like a dream, but it was one that my teammates and I were living.

I had grown up watching Florida quarterbacks from Danny Wuerffel to Doug Johnson and Rex Grossman, and I'd heard about so many others like Wayne Peace and Kerwin Bell. Robby, Peter, and I had played so many games together on the farm over the years, those three-man football games. I remember saying I was Danny Wuerffel or one of the others when I was the quarterback, or Ike Hilliard if I was the receiver, or Lito Sheppard when I was the defensive back. And now I was getting to be part of it all.

Finally, the voice of the Gators boomed "Heeeeeeeeere come the Gators!" as we rushed out of the tunnel. Coming out of the tunnel with "Tebow" on my back for the very first time was such a thrill for me and for my whole family. The goose b.u.mps were everywhere. Something you think about your whole life, and then in a surreal rush it's actually happening. I felt blessed.

Throughout the game, I had a headset on listening to everything that was being said. It was great and I was so excited. It's a wonder I was even able to keep up with all that was going on during the game. We threw a pick to them early, which they converted into a score, keeping it close for a while. But our defense manhandled them throughout the game, and eventually we took charge.

We were just beginning the fourth quarter, after my first sideline experience of listening to a stadium full of fans swaying, singing "We Are the Boys of Old Florida," and I got the call to go in. I thought I'd have a shot to go in because we'd just gotten a turnover on about their six yard line, and sure enough the coaches threw me in. The first play of my career was supposed to be a handoff play out of a shotgun formation to Kestahn Moore. I was nervous even calling the cadence, but once the ball was snapped, all the nervousness went away and-this may seem odd to say-it was just like I was playing football again.

The ball was snapped way low and to the left, so I ran and picked it up. I didn't even think; I just reacted to the situation, which was fun. I picked the ball up, ran left, stiff-armed a guy, dove, and laid out toward the end zone, scoring a touchdown. I was so ecstatic at scoring my first touchdown that everybody watching must have seen it, like the guy who hits his first home run in baseball and fist-pumps and laughs all the way around the bases. After I scored, my excitement bubbled over as I just kept running around and giving everybody a hug. I was so pumped up.

In practice the next week, we prepared for Central Florida, and I had a little bit more in the way of snaps, plays, and involvement, since we antic.i.p.ated and hoped that we'd be far enough ahead to get me into the game. I went into the game for a few series in the second quarter and had some success. I handed off to Kestahn Moore once we got down close to the end zone, and he scored-a good start for me. I felt like I had some nice pa.s.ses and decent runs. So far, so good. I did, however, throw an interception too; and anytime you throw a pick in a game, it stays with you for a while. Some good moments, some not so good.

The game played out as we hoped and planned, and so I got to play a lot in the second half. I had a decent day of pa.s.sing, and that gave the coaches a chance to see that I was more than just someone ("playing position by body stereotype") who could run around a little bit. It's one thing to be strong in the weight room or in Coach Mick's mat drills, or to do well in sprints and the physical compet.i.tions in practice or in the off-season, but it was important for them to see firsthand that I could actually break tackles and run. I think that's when it translated in their minds that I could play quarterback at the University of Florida, because I was never again allowed to be tackled in practice. Leading up to the Tennessee game, with the coaches now having a different perspective on my athletic talent, and in particular my ability to play quarterback, they put in a special package for me-all runs and all from shotgun. I was pretty excited to be able to have a specific and planned chance to contribute-against a team ranked number thirteen in the country.

On the first play they called for me, I had a running back with me, faking the option to him, but instead I just kept the ball and kept going. I broke through the first wave of defenders, the defensive line, running as fast as I could, and I got past the linebackers. At that point I could see that there was nothing between me and the rest of the field but Jonathan Hefney, a safety. I remember looking into his eyes and thinking, he doesn't want any part of this. He went for my ankles and made a good tackle, a solid tackle. It was then, though, right at that moment, that I knew I could play in the SEC. Hefney was one of the better safeties in the conference, and he chose to go low, at my ankles rather than try to take me on straight up.

With that positive play of ten or fifteen yards coming the first time they'd called my number that day, I figured they'd probably call my number again, which they did. Throughout the game, I was able to consistently get in there on different plays and help the team in a variety of ways. Finally, in the fourth quarter, we were on the short end of the score, losing 2014, and we were faced with a third down and six yards to go for a first down; Chris Leak ran for it and was stopped just short of the first-down marker.

Now we were facing fourth and a long yard, almost two yards, for the first down. Coach Meyer called a timeout, and I'm standing there before him, staring at him, willing him to put me in. I saw him looking straight at me, no doubt thinking, He's only a freshman. This was the biggest situation in the season so far against one of our biggest rivals. It was probably our last drive of the game-Coach was faced with a big decision.

He didn't hesitate in sending me out there. I'd like to say that as I ran onto the field, I was thinking about proving him right or winning the game, but all I could think was, Holy cow, this is the loudest place I have ever been in. The crowd was going crazy, absolutely crazy on fourth and a very long one.

Seeing all the linebackers cheating in so close behind the defensive line brought me back to the moment. I had to get this first down. I just kept thinking, I have to get this, I have to get this. I'm going to run as fast as I can, downhill. I thought of Coach Mick and those mat drills. I was going to get this first down, If they get in my way, they will pay the price; they're going to take some punishment.

I clapped my hands-it was a silent cadence because of the crowd noise-took the snap, and hit the hole quickly, running as fast as I could. I knew we had gotten the first down as soon as I hit the hole because I could sense that my momentum carried me well beyond what I felt was sufficient; I was so jacked up that I popped off the ground as we unpiled. Two plays later Chris Leak hit Dallas Baker on a crossing route for a touchdown, and Reggie Nelson ended Tennessee's last drive to try and score with an interception. Not only had we beaten Tennessee, 2120, but in my first Southeastern Conference game I had really helped the team. I felt like I had substantially contributed to the result and helped out all the guys who were the mainstays, the studs on the team, guys like Brandon Siler, Ray McDonald, Joe Cohen, and Dallas Baker, all those guys that I looked up to. It was an awesome feeling to have helped those guys and the rest of the team win a big game.

So far, so good. I had played in three games in a limited role, and it had gone pretty well. I understood that I was a very willing freshman among very talented and experienced uppercla.s.smen, and rather than feeling impatient about my position on the team, I was pleased just to contribute. Chris threw a real pretty ball, and I knew it would be his team all year long. I was fine with that. I equated my situation to what Jesus said: if you're faithful in little things, I'm going to give you more.

That's how I approached the season. That's why my few plays in the Southern Miss and UCF games were so big to me and the Tennessee game plays were huge. Not just for my confidence, but for the coaches' confidence in me as well. Taking care of the little things, one play at a time.

For me, more important than winning the quarterback job was earning some playing time, being part of the team, building the trust of the coaches and my teammates, and being able to contribute. That's what I took so much pride in and what I wanted to accomplish. I hoped to carve out a role for myself that contributed to the good of the team in every game.

After we returned from Tennessee, I was asked to meet with Zack Higbee, a member of the University of Florida's Sports Information Department. Zack was our a.s.sistant to Steve McClain, our sports information director for football. I headed up to Zack's office, which was tucked inside the west stands of Florida Field, wondering what he needed from me.

As it turned out, I'd been receiving a number of requests for personal appearances in and around Gainesville-even though I hadn't been playing a lot. Florida was trying to come up with a plan that might accommodate some of those requests, while still giving me sufficient time for football and cla.s.ses. Zack became the point man for UF and me in this effort with the community. Between the two of us, we devised a plan for dealing with requests, giving highest priority to the ones where people needed help the most and we might be able to make a difference.

He suggested we visit the hospital. I'd never done a hospital visitation in Gainesville before, but we headed to the oncology floor at Shands Hospital at the University of Florida to see a longtime Gator booster. He was there with his wife, and they were struggling with his recent cancer diagnosis.

I suppose I was there to encourage them, and maybe I did, but a good bit of the reverse happened. They did a lot to encourage me, and as I walked out of the room, I realized that I really enjoyed hospital visitation for the opportunity it gives everyone-patient and visitor-to be encouraged, lifted up, and joined together in fellows.h.i.+p.

Zack started making arrangements for us to go to the hospital on a weekly basis, especially to the pediatric wing. I loved seeing the kids. I hated that they were going through challenges at far too young an age, but I absolutely loved them and their spirit. I always came away encouraged and inspired by their courage. I could only pray that I left them lifted up a bit with a measure of encouragement for that day, the next, and every day beyond.

That next weekend Kentucky visited the Swamp, and we all knew that we couldn't have a letdown after such a big win against Tennessee the week before. On my first three plays I had long runs of twenty and thirty yards, taking us down to inside Kentucky's ten yard line. On one of the runs I broke to the right, running toward their sideline, and stiff-armed their safety who had come up to try and make the tackle. I actually stiff-armed him all the way out of bounds, and the officiating crew called it a personal foul on him. Not a bad break as it turned out.

We were inside the ten yard line after the half-the-distance penalty was a.s.sessed, and the coaches replaced me with Chris. I was fired up from the entire drive, but I noticed some booing from our home crowd as I left the field. Chris handed off, and we scored, but the booing really dampened my spirit. There was no need for it. I knew the boos weren't aimed at me, but it was embarra.s.sing to be a Florida fan at that moment. Sure, Chris Leak and I were competing for playing time, but at the same time, we got along fine and the coaches were doing a great job in coordinating our playing time effectively for the good of the team. We were winning, we were undefeated, we had good plays in a row, and we scored. As a fan, what more could you want?

Being a compet.i.tor, I wanted to be out there helping and felt that I was ready to be involved whenever the coaches felt they needed me. The hardest part was not knowing-warming up to stay ready and then not knowing when your number will be called. It was a "wait, then hurry up, and then wait again" situation, like much of life. You never know when an opportunity to help, to do something good, to lift up someone, or some situation will come your way. Always be prepared so that you can do your best when it's time.

Later in the game we ran a fake option right, and then I spun around to the left and threw a comeback screen to Dallas Baker. We scored on it-my first touchdown pa.s.s in college-but they called holding on Phil Trautwein. As we came back into the huddle, Phil, who was a soph.o.m.ore, apologized to me. He was a hard worker, team leader, and a true a.s.set. Of course he hadn't meant to be penalized. I looked him in the eye and said, "No problem. That was only my first pa.s.sing touchdown in college ever-don't worry about it." That became a running joke that I still remind him of.

The next week was Alabama, again at home. It was also the weekend of activities in support of the one hundredth anniversary of Florida Football Celebration Gala. We wore throwback uniforms and helmets. It was a big weekend, and I was heading into it still learning and accepting my role. Finally, I had gotten past the second-guessing about choosing Florida over Alabama, and even the lack of a clearly defined role didn't change that. As much as I loved it at Florida, it was hard not to think back to the difficulty I'd had choosing between the two schools. Though I was perfectly happy with the role I'd been playing for Florida, in all honesty there were times that first season when I wondered if I would have been playing more or even starting at 'Bama. Despite those normal "what if" thoughts that crept in from time to time, I had no regrets-none whatsoever-about my decision.

I did talk to Coach Mike Shula before and after the game. Of course, he was kind, as ever. He asked about my parents and the rest of the family and said again that he had a great time recruiting me and would always wish the very best for me. As always, he was great to be around.

It was a fun football game. The coaches had installed a play-action pa.s.s in the game plan for me that week, which I was looking forward to having a chance to run. Unfortunately, we started that game with Alabama's scoring a defensive touchdown on a botched snap, so I didn't go in as early as I might otherwise have, until we got a bit of rhythm going with Chris and the offense. But then I had a chance to go in a little while later. We had a fourth down and goal to go from the one yard line. They put me in, and although someone hit me at the line of scrimmage, I had such momentum that I carried him into the end zone with me. That was a sweet feeling, to do that at home against Alabama.

Later in the game we called that play-action pa.s.s they had specifically installed for me; I threw it down the sideline and completed it deep into their territory. We continued down the field and scored on that drive. I didn't have many plays in that game, but the ones that I did have were pretty big. John Parker Wilson, Alabama's quarterback, had a tough day, which helped us pull ahead. Once again, Reggie Nelson sealed the win with an interception late in the game, adding an exclamation point to the win, since he ran that pick all the way back for a touchdown.

The following week, we faced our fourth straight SEC game, but thankfully it was our third in a row at home. We needed that-since we were facing LSU, who was ranked number nine in the country going into the game. We were ranked fifth, but we weren't really focused on that. We were simply trying to play well each week. In addition, Gainesville was hosting ESPN's GameDay coverage that week, which only added to the madness and led to a few interviews before the game about the two-quarterback situation Florida was using. Some people weren't sure our offense would hold up. Louisiana State had an unbelievable defense with Glenn Dorsey, Tyson Jackson, LaRon Landry, and Chevis Jackson, all of whom went on to become NFL players. In fact, the first three were all taken within the first six picks of the NFL draft in the years they were eligible to be selected.

That week in practice our coaches once again put in a few special plays for me and showed us a play from their days at the University of Utah. In that play they put their bigger fullback in at quarterback in the shotgun, and after he took the snap, he stepped forward like he was going to run. Instead, he stepped back and tossed the ball to the back of the end zone to a receiver who had made a fake block at the line and then released into the back of the end zone for the pa.s.s. When they showed us tape of the play from a game, it had resulted in a score against the U.S. Air Force Academy.

When we ran it on the practice field, I ran it wrong the first time out of the box-when I got the ball, I faked the run by running almost all the way to the line of scrimmage, but then I stopped, jumped, and threw the ball to the receiver who had worked his way into the back of the end zone. It worked, and the coaches liked the way it turned out and decided to keep it in the game plan as a jump pa.s.s.

We also had a play-action pa.s.s that I repped and repped and repped, both in practice and then even on my own afterward, in which I ran all the way to the line of scrimmage then dropped back to throw downfield, where we had one receiver on a post and another on a wheel route.

Early in the LSU game, they put me in, and on my first play they had me counter to the left; I then jabbed to the right and came back to the left, got about eight yards downfield, and then met their safety-right in the hole. I hit him square and head-on and just started driving him downfield for about ten more yards while others joined to push the pile-both on offense and defense-and we ended up gaining another fifteen yards in the scrum. I spun out of it, released, and almost scored a touchdown, except a guy tripped me at the last second. That was actually one of my favorite plays at Florida. The next play they kept me in for had me run a counter right and then a little draw play; then they put Chris in, and he threw a swing pa.s.s and had fourth and goal from the one. They put me back in, and I ran a goal-line dive play to the right and met Luke Sanders in the hole. Luke was a great linebacker for LSU and had actually been my host player when I took my official visit to the school. I got the better of the meeting on the field, though, and we scored.

Throughout the first half the momentum and advantage kept swinging back and forth-first to us, then to them, and back again to us. We got the ball with a minute or so to go in the half and drove down the field to inside the ten yard line. They put me in for a run, and we took it down to the one. We called a time out, and Coach Meyer pulled me over and asked if I thought we should run the jump pa.s.s or not.

"Tim, you cannot come down with the ball. The half will run out." His concern was that the clock would run out on us since we didn't have any time-outs left and we wouldn't be able to get the field-goal unit onto the field to set up to at least kick a field goal. "Got it?"

I nodded. I'm sure he could see my eyes blazing, ready to go in.

"All right, let's run it. One more time: either throw a touchdown pa.s.s or throw it out of bounds. Don't get tackled, and don't come down with the ball."

So we set up, snapped the ball, and ran the jump-pa.s.s play, but Tate Casey, my go-to receiver on the play, was held coming off the line of scrimmage and prevented from releasing to the back of the end zone. He finally broke free, but by that time I was gulping hard and double and triple clutching the ball in the air, trying to stay up just long enough for him to break free. I finally let it go at the last second, even though he was barely coming out of his break. He was stumbling, so I just lobbed it in the air to the spot close to where I was calculating he'd end up. Tate, who was falling over but trying to hold himself up long enough to make the play, reached out as the ball floated toward the ground and caught it in his lap for a touchdown.

That's how the legend of the jump pa.s.s started.

Coming out of the locker room for the second half, we got the ball early in the third quarter in great field position, and when I was put in the game, we called the play-action pa.s.s, "s.h.i.+ft Swap Ace Right Run Pa.s.s 95 Zombie Stay Pistol H Cross." I'd practiced saying it all week for obvious reasons.

I took the snap in the shotgun, ran toward the line of scrimmage, and then dropped back into the backfield with what seemed like the whole LSU defense coming toward me. It must have been the whole defense, because no one covered Louis Murphy, who later told me he was so wide open it made him nervous. He caught my pa.s.s, took two steps, and just fell into the end zone. No one was anywhere around him, so we always kidded him from then on that he couldn't even run into the end zone, he could only fall in.

Late in the game they put me back in to try to run the clock out. We were running power right, power left. Counter right, counter left. We were successful in running, using up time on the clock and wearing down their defense and winning the game, 2310.

There we stood after the first six games-undefeated. All the momentum was still behind us, and the potential out in front of us.

Chapter Eleven.

Ending up in the Desert.

By grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of G.o.d; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are His workmans.h.i.+p, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which G.o.d prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

-EPHESIANS 2:810.

After the Louisiana State football game, we went to Outback Steakhouse for dinner, a whole crowd of us-my parents and brothers and sisters and a whole group of friends who had come in for the game from all directions. Since it had been a day in which I accounted for all three of our touchdowns-my pa.s.sing stats for the game were two-for-two for thirty-six yards and two touchdowns-I found myself to be pretty popular, at least at our table.

What my parents remember most about that scene that day was the time I took with a really sweet but shy little boy in the middle of the throng of well-wis.h.i.+ng Gator family and fans. My parents have learned not to be surprised when I do something like that; I've always got time for little kids, the kind of time I remember many others, like Uncle d.i.c.k, taking with me when I was growing up. Kids can be fragile and are so impressionable. They need lots of encouragement to help them see their potential; and, besides that, they're fun to be around. At times, I find I can be a lot more myself around them-a kid.

My dad reinforced that lesson that night, telling me, "You were on the GameDay set after the game, and they showed everyone in the country your jump pa.s.s, but your time with that little guy was the best play of the day."

I suppose it could have been the pressure of the Auburn week and preparing for our game with them at their place on the Plains, but if anything, we took Auburn too lightly: they weren't as good that year as their usual Auburn teams. The rest of the practice week was uneventful and pretty much the same as any week of preparation for an SEC game.

I was really looking forward to the game in Auburn. It was great being at Auburn. I loved their gra.s.s, their early-arriving fans, guys wearing ties to the games but still going crazy. I'm told the atmosphere was always electric for Florida games. That day was no exception.

My first play of the game I ran a counter-right and took it in for the score. I also learned a painful lesson on that play-as I scored, I eased up a bit even though I saw a guy coming at me from the side. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep me out. He hit my shoulder just as I crossed the goal line, and the hit sprained my shoulder. It was a relatively mild sprain, but it was irritating, because I had brought it on by easing up.

The game went back and forth between us, and I only played on about three snaps, one of which was in the backfield simply as a decoy with Chris as the quarterback. It was the fewest number of plays I played in a game all year, which was a little bit frustrating, watching from the sidelines and feeling that I could help the team more. What made it worse was that we did not play well, and as a result we ended up losing to a team that we shouldn't have, 2717. And, to add insult to injury, on that one play, I'd hurt my right shoulder, which ended up nagging me throughout the rest of the year.

After the game, a reporter asked me how I would handle the loss. I gave them the verse that my parents had reminded us of ever since we were children, 1 Thessalonians 5:18: "In everything give thanks; for this is G.o.d's will for you in Christ Jesus."

Six and one. Gimpy shoulder, and back searching as a team for that momentum again.

We had a bye that week, which gave us a chance to work on fundamentals. Also during the bye, I had a little more downtime than I'd had recently and had a chance to catch up with some friends.

Right before school started, I was the celebrity judge of a talent show along with Matt LaPorta, a UF baseball player; I think Coach Meyer's wife, Sh.e.l.ley, may have been one too. This one girl, in addition to being really attractive, was talented and bright. Everything she did was awesome, and she had a hysterical sense of humor, so at the end of the night, I gave her a perfect score. Apparently I wasn't the only one. Matt asked her out that night before I could even think about it, but she wasn't interested. I didn't give her another thought.

The following week, Butchie Rowley, a good friend and fellow teammate, invited me to go to a movie with him and a girl he knew from high school. He said he was hoping to ask her out on a date, following this movie, and that maybe I'd want to go in case she didn't seem interested; then the night wouldn't be so awkward for them. Butchie is a guy who shares my principles of how I think Christ wants us to relate to women-with respect, first and foremost-and he was trying to go about it the right way. Still I declined, thinking that the night sounded plenty awkward for me in case the two of them hit it off.

He insisted, and I found myself as the third wheel as we went to pick her up. It was, of course, the girl from the pageant, and by the end of the evening, it was clear that she and Butchie would remain friends, but she and I clicked.

We went out for a couple of weeks, but it never got serious. My family tells me that I'm the pickiest person they've ever met, and that may be true. Between my mom and my sisters, who have such amazing character qualities it's a tough standard for anyone else to meet. Plus, I've not yet been willing to devote time to make a relations.h.i.+p work.

Meanwhile the team tried to get refocused and headed to Jacksonville for our sixth SEC game in a row. I, of course, was looking forward to that week because it was the FloridaGeorgia game. That was enough in and of itself, but Jacksonville was also my hometown and my parents' first date was to the FloridaGeorgia game. I had grown up going to that game every year, so I was excited to finally play in it, but nowhere near as excited as my dad was. He grew up in an era in which Georgia was the big rival, and he spoke about this game much in the same way that I've heard Coach Steve Spurrier was always focused on beating Georgia when he was coaching the Gators. Quite honestly, we were beating Georgia pretty regularly when I was growing up, so they weren't nearly the archrival for my generation that Florida State became.

I remember going to FloridaGeorgia games in the pouring rain and coming out of most of them pretty happy. Of course, there were a few of them that ended up very sad, like the year when Georgia quarterback Quincy Carter beat us. Several times we had a Pop Warner game beforehand, and we'd change in the car on the way to the FloridaGeorgia game. As soon as the game was over, we'd head home, where my brothers and I would play in the backyard, mimicking the players we had just watched during the game.

My brother-in-law, Joey, went to Georgia. In fact, his entire family are Bulldogs, but-get this-most of the people at the church his dad pastors agreed to become Gator fans during the four years I played at Florida.

I was ready. I went into the game on the first drive and had a really good run on a 97 Q Power call, a quarterback run up the middle. I played on and off for the rest of the game, but the worst part of the game for me came in the second half when I was stood straight up on a tackle by a defender, and then got stripped of the ball by another player. My fumble was recovered by Georgia on our own ten yard line, and they scored a few plays later to cut our lead to 7. I was mad at myself, even though I'd been practicing good ball security-I just had several guys ripping on it while I was being stood up, and I didn't hang on. There was no excuse for it, whether I thought I was doing well on good ball security or not; it wasn't good enough. To me, and Coach Meyer, I'm sure, it was unacceptable. Very irritating. We hung on to win, 2114 but didn't play very well offensively that day.

The whole next week I worked on ball-security drills by myself after practice, trying to make sure what happened in the Georgia game that Sat.u.r.day didn't happen again, and I worked to hold on to the ball with as much force as I possibly could.

That next week I heard that the coaches debated playing me even more since we weren't playing our best on offense, but it was decided, instead, to stick with the approach we'd followed so far. Chris Leak still started in our game at Vanderbilt, of course, but I did play a little more, and it went well, including a thirty-yard run. Early on, things were clicking on offense, even to the point where, after one touchdown, Butchie Rowley, our holder on extra points and field goals, after fumbling the snap for the extra point after a touchdown, just picked it up, looked into the end zone, and completed a pa.s.s for a two-point conversion.

After a while, though, we stopped moving the ball effectively, and they mounted a comeback, scoring thirteen unanswered points in the fourth quarter. Chris struggled, throwing three interceptions on the day, totally out of character for him. Toward the end of the game, having just scored, Vandy lined up for an onside kick, still sitting on the short end of a 2519 score.

I was out there on the hands team, too, to make sure we recovered the onside attempt, and I was able to cover the kick along with Dallas Baker. It was similar in some ways to the Georgia game of the week before, in that we found a way to get an ugly win over a team that was overmatched.

The day after the game, Robby called. It was a call I knew could come at any time, but I still wasn't ready for what he told me-it was so hard to hear that our beloved, faithful, and protective Otis had died. The limp had gotten better over time, but he had cancer and was thirteen years old. Because of football, I couldn't go home to help bury him. He was a great dog, and a great friend. Robby buried him down by the lake on the farm. Otis was an incredibly tough loss, and it was even more difficult because I was away from home.

In general it had been getting easier to be at school. Much like things on the field, school had also been going well. It was my first time away from home, but it had been a good experience. I was attending several churches and hadn't settled into any particular one. I was staying busy, which probably helped with the transition.

When I came to the University of Florida, I was tested for my dyslexia and because of it, I was allowed time and a half to take all my exams. I used that extra time my freshman year, and carried a 4.0. I'm not sure how necessary it was, however, as I was usually able to read and process most of the questions in the allotted time; and having 50 percent additional time didn't seem to make any answers that I didn't know come to mind. In fact, it invariably made me late to my next cla.s.s, so by the end of my freshman year, I'd quit taking the extra time I was allowed.

Football-wise, we were in the middle of a tough streak. We were winning, but we weren't playing very well, and so we weren't really entertaining any serious thoughts that we were on our way to anything truly special that year. We were still focused on getting to the SEC Champions.h.i.+p Game and winning that, but even in that commitment, I don't think we were very confident or excited about any other opportunities-like the National Champions.h.i.+p-which we hoped might be in our future. There were a number of one-loss teams logjammed around the country, and they were all playing pretty well. We were just barely hanging on in games and then ending up on the good side of the score-except for Auburn, of course. It just seemed as though it was going to take something special to really fire us up and get the juices flowing again.

When South Carolina and the "Old Ball Coach"-Steve Spurrier-visited the Swamp, things didn't change much. As the game wore on, it became clear that the South Carolina game made it four in a row in which we still weren't playing very well. Other than a second quarter touchdown, our hopes of moving the ball regularly against South Carolina's man coverage just didn't pan out like we'd expected, although Chris Leak had one of his best games of the year. He pa.s.sed for 258 yards that day, and in that performance he pa.s.sed Danny Wuerffel to become the all-time pa.s.sing leader in Gators history. Still tied at seven early in the fourth quarter, the coaches called a play for me on third and short yardage to try and get the first down; it was a fake run, roll out, in which I was to hit fullback Billy Latsko in the flat near the side of the field. I overthrew him by about a foot too high and, despite that, Billy made a great effort to make the catch, but I had overthrown him by too much. We had to punt, which was very frustrating and indicative of the way the game was going.

South Carolina took the lead, 1610, with eight minutes to go-we blocked the extra point-and with four minutes left we started what seemed like it could turn out to be our final drive of the game. We faced a fourth and two from our own end of the field. They might have been able to run the clock out if we didn't get the first down to be able to keep the ball and keep the drive alive. We called 97 Q Power. For a brief moment I saw nothing but daylight on the play, but then a guy crashed into me from the side. Despite that, we gained enough for the first down and kept the ball. We kept moving down the field, and eventually we had the ball at South Carolina's twelve yard line.

We needed a touchdown. Coach Mullen called a run play for me, and after I hit the hole right up the middle that our line had opened, I jump-stepped over their safety at the five yard line, like a hurdler, das.h.i.+ng in for the score. The extra point was good, and we led 1716. South Carolina still had time to move the ball and try and get into field-goal range. And move the ball they did. They eventually got down to our thirty-one yard line and, facing a fourth down with a few seconds left in the game, lined up for a forty-eight-yard attempt for the win.