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Authors: Tony Dungy, Nathan Whitaker
Tags: Biographies
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Stallworth? Well, even he doesn’t start at receiver for them. And eight of the defensive guys— eight of them—just went to the Pro Bowl, plus three guys from the offense. Eleven guys in the Pro Bowl! Donnie Shell and Jimmy Allen are the backup DBs. Where do you think you’re gonna play? How are you even gonna make the team?”
“Well, uh, I don’t know. I want to play with the best, and these guys are the best.” Signing with the Steelers had seemed like the right thing to do immediately after the draft, but I found myself second-guessing my decision for about a week afterward.
I was just walking in faith—faith in God and faith in what Tom had told me: “You’re a smart guy, so you’re going to have chances to make it with us in Pittsburgh somewhere. And since we’re already good, it’s not like we need to give the veterans much work in the preseason. We won’t need to worry about playing our first-string offense to see how they’re going to function as a unit. We know how they’re going to function. Coach Noll wants to give the young guys lots of chances to play in the preseason games, so you’ll get a chance to show what you can do on the field, to come in and make an impression—whenever we figure out where to put you.”
The more I thought about it, it didn’t really seem like a logical decision at all, but I had prayed about it, and joining the Steelers just seemed to be the right thing to do. Over and over in life, I’ve looked for that moment captured by Cecil B. DeMille in The Ten Commandments, when I could hear that same voice of God so clearly heard by Moses at the edge of the Red Sea: “Go this way, and I’ll part the waters for you.” But there has been no such moment. I have yet to hear God’s audible voice, although I have often felt led by God in more subtle ways. My dad always believed that God uses the logic and the passion He’s given us to help direct us, and I believe that too. This must be the “gentle whisper” thing. The “still, small voice.”
So I headed off to Pittsburgh with no idea what God had in store for me—either personally or professionally—in that city.
----
It turned out that I was a wide receiver in the NFL . . . for about two months. I went through the minicamps and about two weeks of training camp; then, because of some injuries to other players, the Steelers moved me across the line of scrimmage to the defense, at safety.
I loved the challenge of learning a new position, and it was great to be in with Mel Blount, Donnie Shell, Jimmy Allen, and the rest of those guys. Fortunately for me, they were all willing to help, and our defensive coordinator, Bud Carson, was a genius. I absorbed everything I could from him. In fact, I was so busy studying and watching game films that the coaches let me borrow a 16mm projector so I could watch them in my room. Unfortunately, the projector somehow interfered with the television reception—causing “snow” on the veteran players’ TV screen.
In addition to many great players, that team included some really solid Christians. Because of our physical and rough style of play, we weren’t necessarily seen as a group of believers. But even head coach Chuck Noll, who was a devout Catholic, often used Bible verses to inspire us. When Mark Brunell, Tony Boselli, Kyle Brady, and other Jacksonville Jaguars players were criticized in the late 1990s for not being tough enough on the football field because they were Christians, I could only think of our Steelers teams of the 1970s and smile.
Larry Brown, Jon Kolb, Donnie Shell, and John Stallworth all really worked hard to put God first in everything they did, every day. “What would Jesus do?” they asked, well before bracelets and bumper stickers made that phrase popular. Donnie, in particular, was one of the most fired-up Christians I had ever met. He was the captain of the special teams when I arrived, and he was determined to become a starter on defense, even
“Well, uh, I don’t know. I want to play with the best, and these guys are the best.” Signing with the Steelers had seemed like the right thing to do immediately after the draft, but I found myself second-guessing my decision for about a week afterward.
I was just walking in faith—faith in God and faith in what Tom had told me: “You’re a smart guy, so you’re going to have chances to make it with us in Pittsburgh somewhere. And since we’re already good, it’s not like we need to give the veterans much work in the preseason. We won’t need to worry about playing our first-string offense to see how they’re going to function as a unit. We know how they’re going to function. Coach Noll wants to give the young guys lots of chances to play in the preseason games, so you’ll get a chance to show what you can do on the field, to come in and make an impression—whenever we figure out where to put you.”
The more I thought about it, it didn’t really seem like a logical decision at all, but I had prayed about it, and joining the Steelers just seemed to be the right thing to do. Over and over in life, I’ve looked for that moment captured by Cecil B. DeMille in The Ten Commandments, when I could hear that same voice of God so clearly heard by Moses at the edge of the Red Sea: “Go this way, and I’ll part the waters for you.” But there has been no such moment. I have yet to hear God’s audible voice, although I have often felt led by God in more subtle ways. My dad always believed that God uses the logic and the passion He’s given us to help direct us, and I believe that too. This must be the “gentle whisper” thing. The “still, small voice.”
So I headed off to Pittsburgh with no idea what God had in store for me—either personally or professionally—in that city.
----
It turned out that I was a wide receiver in the NFL . . . for about two months. I went through the minicamps and about two weeks of training camp; then, because of some injuries to other players, the Steelers moved me across the line of scrimmage to the defense, at safety.
I loved the challenge of learning a new position, and it was great to be in with Mel Blount, Donnie Shell, Jimmy Allen, and the rest of those guys. Fortunately for me, they were all willing to help, and our defensive coordinator, Bud Carson, was a genius. I absorbed everything I could from him. In fact, I was so busy studying and watching game films that the coaches let me borrow a 16mm projector so I could watch them in my room. Unfortunately, the projector somehow interfered with the television reception—causing “snow” on the veteran players’ TV screen.
In addition to many great players, that team included some really solid Christians. Because of our physical and rough style of play, we weren’t necessarily seen as a group of believers. But even head coach Chuck Noll, who was a devout Catholic, often used Bible verses to inspire us. When Mark Brunell, Tony Boselli, Kyle Brady, and other Jacksonville Jaguars players were criticized in the late 1990s for not being tough enough on the football field because they were Christians, I could only think of our Steelers teams of the 1970s and smile.
Larry Brown, Jon Kolb, Donnie Shell, and John Stallworth all really worked hard to put God first in everything they did, every day. “What would Jesus do?” they asked, well before bracelets and bumper stickers made that phrase popular. Donnie, in particular, was one of the most fired-up Christians I had ever met. He was the captain of the special teams when I arrived, and he was determined to become a starter on defense, even
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