by Michael Vick
In and around where I lived, anyone could get shot at any time or place. Anyone could be the main target. And anyone could be in the wrong place at the wrong time and caught in the line of fire. It was rough for the people who lived there.
One summer growing up, I heard a gunshot every night. I vividly remember being awakened one night by a sharp POP. I jumped up. The shot was so loud and clear because we had to sleep with the windows open; it was really hot, and we didn’t have central air upstairs.
You reach a point where you become immune to the violence and crime; the sounds of gunfire became white noise that faded into the background of our lives. It was common to see guys walking through the neighborhood with shotguns and rifles. They were either headed to an altercation, or would start one because they were carrying guns and acting “tough.” You’d see fights all the time—fistfights, and even domestic family fights. It was crazy in that area—a living environment many people can’t comprehend.
You had to watch your back and be cautious of where you were. So many people—good people—fell victim because they weren’t aware of their surroundings.
One of those victims was a close friend of mine, Abdullah McClane, who was known to the rest of us simply as “Peahead.” As just a young teen, he was shot walking near the Food Tiger store on Hampton Avenue.
I was crushed when I heard about it. Before, I had been immune to the gunfire, but now it had real consequences. My world changed that day. I lost my friend.
We had been teammates in Pop Warner football, and the plan was for us to play together all the way up through high school. Peahead was going to be the quarterback, and I was going to be the running back. He was good—better than me, actually. And, coincidentally, he was a left-hander too, just like me.
But those were my surroundings. Anything could happen to anyone at any time. It’s what we all dealt with on a daily basis and why I wanted to escape from Ridley Circle.
My escape came through football.
Ironically, my roots in football come from the Washington Redskins—the same Washington Redskins that I would play my career game against in 2010, cementing my return to professional football. Sometimes it’s the moments that take us back to the beginning that are most important.
The beginning of my love for football goes back to when I was seven years old. I was spending time with my grandmother, Caletha Vick. I never knew anything about the game until one Sunday afternoon when she turned on the television because the Redskins were playing. They were my Uncle Casey’s favorite team—and my grandmother’s favorite too.
After watching the game with them, I was hooked; my fascination grew deep inside me. At that moment, I knew playing in the NFL was what I wanted to do when I grew up.
“I’m going to play professional football someday,” I told her.
“Well, you have to learn how to play then,” I remember her saying. “Ask your uncle because he played in high school.”
From that day on, I carried a football with me everywhere I went in the neighborhood. As time went by, I played more and more, getting better every day.
I was highly competitive, a trait that was developed not only in Pop Warner but also in impromptu games and scrimmages that broke out on the street before school began.
We used to play tackle against other neighborhoods—against guys who were bigger and stronger than us. We were little guys, but hey, we wanted the older guys in our neighborhood to view us as good football players, and we wanted to be the best. So by playing against the bigger kids, we had to work harder and be faster. It was great practice.
We played tag football in the street in the mornings before our school bus arrived and were usually sweating when we climbed on the bus. It was how everyone honed their skills. It was why we were so much better than the other youth league football teams we played. We were practicing all the time.
My first position for the Boys & Girls Club Spartans was tight end, which I didn’t like. I was a good receiver, but the problem was that I also had to block, and I didn’t like contact. I didn’t even know what I was doing. The whole time I played in games that year, I was looking at my mom on the sideline and was really ready to go home. The next season, however, I was moved to quarterback, and on my very first pass I threw a touchdown.
I didn’t even see what happened because I was so short. I dropped back and threw the ball as far as I could to my receiver, Corey Barnes. The next thing I knew, the coaches started jumping up and down, and people started grabbing me. I was so happy and excited. I loved that feeling. I chased that feeling.
One thing I can certainly say about my youth is that it wasn’t difficult to find trouble in the streets.
I wasn’t a troublemaker per se, but I hung around with guys who caused a good deal of trouble. They were constantly getting into fights, stealing bikes, and taking stuff from people’s yards and local stores. My childhood best friend, Jamel Wilson, and I were never into all that. We showed respect to the other guys and the older kids in the neighborhood, and they had respect for us because we didn’t get involved in the neighborhood nonsense. For me it was more fun to play football than to fight or steal.
But I wasn’t an angel by any means either; I had my moments of childhood indiscretion and mischief. I snuck down to a place called The Crab Factory and stole seafood to sell elsewhere in the neighborhood. I also would ride my bike or even walk miles farther away from our house than my parents knew.
The thing is, I had four great influences keeping me from getting into too much trouble: my mother, Brenda Vick; my grandmother; the outlet of sports; and especially the Boys & Girls Club, which was located a short walk from home.
My mom was, and is, the rock of our family. I have a younger brother, Marcus, and two sisters: Christina, who is the oldest, and Courtney, the baby of the family. Mom took on all the responsibilities of raising us. Even though my dad, Michael Boddie, was there, Mom dedicated herself to making sure that we were provided for and that we lived the best life we could.
She was a very forgiving lady—very generous and gracious. But she was stern and didn’t hesitate to correct us by chastising or spanking us. And when need be, the belt came out. But we needed it. God knows I did!
For some reason, when I was away from the house, I was a cool, calm guy. But when I was home with my mom, I would just wreak havoc all over the house. My mom would put the belt to me when she needed to. Of course, I didn’t want to be punished, but it did keep me in line.
She always made sure we had the finer things in life to the extent we could afford them. If it was one new pair of shoes per year, she was going to make sure they were clean, and she was going to make sure we had brand-new clothes to wear with them. Mom just dedicated herself to giving us the best life possible. She worked two jobs at times and did everything she could to provide. It’s amazing what she did for us on the income she earned from working at Super Kmart.
She found a way to keep us away from potential harm too. She tried to show us a different side of life when she could. For instance, she took us to Outback Steakhouse whenever she had enough money so we could eat somewhere nice. She sacrificed a lot for us.
My father worked in the nearby shipyards as a sandblaster, turning in long hours that kept him away from the family. But it wasn’t just his job that kept him away and distant at times. He also spent plenty of time in the streets, struggling with drugs and alcohol.
He would stay with us at our house, but he really wouldn’t put in the effort and family time like I thought he should have. I guess he was into his own thing. I can’t really put my finger on it, but I wanted something more. I wanted to spend time with my dad, but he wasn’t there. He was usually running with his friends. But he showed that he cared by making sure things were okay for us financially.
I do have some great memories with my dad. When we did spend time together, he would take the time to throw the football with me in the yard. It was in those early days that I realized I was a left-h
anded passer, which makes me somewhat unique in a sport in which right-handed quarterbacks are most prevalent.
My mother and father eventually married. To my best friend, Jamel, our family seemed close-knit since there was a father and mother in the home. He said we were just about the only family in the neighborhood with a mother and a father in the home together. Jamel once told me, “You have the complete family. You have what everybody else wants.” He also said he fondly remembers my mother bringing out cookies, candy, and chips for all the kids in the neighborhood to enjoy.
Jamel’s perception wasn’t far off. Although my father struggled and may have been separated or distant from us at times, the rest of our family was tight. My brother, sisters, and I joked and played pranks on one another. For some reason, I specifically remember my brother flipping the light switch and acting like he was being electrocuted. My sister would go bananas.
Besides being practical jokers, we also played different games and had fun contests around the house. Thursday nights were pizza night. We would stay home, order pizza, sit cross-legged, and everyone would have a good time and laugh and joke. We were competitive in everything. We stayed up and played cards late at night, talking and enjoying time with each other. We played spades, war, checkers, and one of my favorite games, Monopoly. In Monopoly, I won all the time. I always had the most money and properties.
Back then, money seemed easier to manage.
I was especially close to my grandmother and spent many memorable times with her. Every weekend, my sisters and I would stay over at her house. I laugh now, remembering how I would flee to her for refuge.
When my mom was mad at me, or whenever I got in trouble and got a spanking, I would usually go to my grandmother’s house. She was my getaway. She was my hideout. And she spoiled me to death.
If the trash was full, I would take it out, and she would give me a quarter. When I came in at the right time, she would also give me a quarter, enough for me to go get some candy from the store. She was an incredibly loving lady who always cared about us. If anything was wrong with our health, she felt like she could cure us. If I went to her house on the way to school and said I was tired, she would let me stay home, and I wouldn’t have to go to school. If only my mother knew …
Always a positive influence (even when I stayed home from school), she instilled in me that I had to have the inner strength to overcome adversity. I can remember her saying, “You make sure you take advantage of every opportunity you can in life and make sure you take your education seriously, because nothing is going to be easy.” At that time, when I was young, I didn’t understand what she was saying, but she was right. Taking advantage of every opportunity is something I wish I had done.
My grandmother also introduced me to the Christian faith. She took me to Solid Rock Church, located in our neighborhood close to where we lived. Those times established an important foundation that I later turned to in my most trying moments.
During my sophomore year of high school, I started sleeping with the Bible under my pillow. I felt like it protected me, and I wanted to be closer to God. As I read the Bible at a young age, I tried to get a clearer understanding of what was written. But I really needed some counsel, discipleship, and education about what I was reading. Even though I wasn’t able to grasp everything on my own, I was able to build that sense of belief, knowing that I could do all things through God and that I couldn’t do it without Him.
My favorite Scripture passage growing up was Psalm 23, which, in the King James Version of the Bible, says:
The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of
righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of
mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days
of my life: and I will dwell in the house of
the LORD for ever.
My favorite verse of Scripture, Jeremiah 29:11, is one that my grandmother always told me to read:
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
I know the other kids in the neighborhood weren’t sleeping with the Bible under their pillows; they weren’t reading their Bible at night. None of my friends were doing it. I was probably the only kid in Newport News who was. The reason I say that is to highlight my solid foundation. Though gunshots echoed through the night in Newport News, my personal foundation—thanks to my mother and grandmother—was rock solid.
I practiced this discipline from when I was about fifteen until shortly before I was drafted into the NFL. For me, in connection with my grandmother’s support, reading the Bible provided me a solid center and balance for my life. It kept me focused. Turning away from that practice and no longer sleeping with it under my pillow was symbolic of my turning away from God and leaning on my own understanding, which was a huge mistake.
Later in life, when I went to prison, the Bible returned to its rightful place—under my pillow. But it never should have left.
I don’t know what would have happened to me during my youth if I had not had the local Boys & Girls Club as a place to spend my time productively, participating in sports and other group activities. It was a sanctuary for me. It may have saved my life.
The man who was in charge of the club, Mr. James “Poo” Johnson, was a key mentor early in my life. He was an outstanding man for any kid to have in their journey through life. He kept everything on even ground and even keel. He was there for us. He was very inspirational and encouraged us to do our best. He wanted us to, and hoped we would, come to the Boys & Girls Club each and every day.
Realizing that many of us didn’t have father figures in our lives, he felt a sense of responsibility to take on that role. He was a loving guy, but he was also a disciplinarian in a sense. He was stern and didn’t allow us to do whatever we wanted.
One thing I remember about Mr. Johnson was that he had a box of yock—a type of beef noodle soup—from the 18th Street Chinese food store every Friday. When I was a kid, a box of yock was seven bucks. My mother could only get it on Fridays too—when she and my dad got paid. When Mr. Johnson had his, I wanted to ask him for some, but I couldn’t muster the courage because I thought it’d be disrespectful. But I wanted it so bad. To this day, every time I see a box of yock, I think of Mr. Johnson.
Mr. Johnson remembers me as being not only highly athletic at a young age but also very competitive. He says that he remembers sitting me down a couple times and telling me, “You can’t win everything.”
His goal then was the same as it is today—for the Newport News Boys & Girls Club to be a safe haven for children from the negative influences all around them. He understood that, because of where I was living, I had a lot of distractions that could’ve been disastrous for me if it wasn’t for the Boys & Girls Club.
Mr. Johnson had high expectations for me and tried to be a “tell it like it is” mentor. He gave it to me straight—whether I liked hearing it or not. I’m glad Mr. Johnson did. I needed it that way.
After my prison sentence, I returned to the Boys & Girls Club to work for Mr. Johnson.
I went back to my roots—back to the start.
Another very important mentor over the years was Coach Tommy Reamon, a former professional running back who became a high school coach in the Newport News area. When I was in the eighth grade, he saw early glimpses of raw talent that needed to be developed and thought that I could become a special player.
Even then, I pos
sessed a desire to escape the projects by playing pro football someday. I asked him if he could help me get a college scholarship like my cousin—quarterback Aaron Brooks—who played at the University of Virginia and later in the NFL with the New Orleans Saints and Oakland Raiders from 2000 to 2007. And Coach Reamon willingly and sacrificially helped me.
Like me, Coach Reamon grew up in the rough East End of Newport News, and he knew what it took to escape. He played college football at Missouri before being drafted in 1974 by the Pittsburgh Steelers of the NFL and the Florida Blazers of the World Football League, where he had an MVP year his rookie season. He later told me, “You had to dream to get out of that neighborhood.”
Coach Reamon provided a tremendous amount of support and guidance for me. He believed in me so much that, when I was a sophomore, he took me to the University of Virginia football camp, paying out of his own pocket. He was trying to help me become the best quarterback I could be, and that experience—being around the best players in Virginia—helped catapult me to a different level.
I had only known him for a year at that point, and he had a son of his own, but he chose to make personal sacrifices for me. He didn’t have to drive me two hours to UVA. He didn’t have to help me become a better player. But he did. It was scary, because those four days at UVA were my first time away from my family. But at the same time, I wasn’t away from family. That’s because Coach Reamon became a dependable father figure for me that weekend. I had family with me.
When I made it to the NFL—something that would not have happened without Coach Reamon’s help—I began to neglect our relationship and focus on myself. He called me his “son.” He treated me like a son. And I recklessly abandoned our relationship because I was becoming a “me” guy.
Not talking to him once I made it to the NFL was one of the worst things I could have done. It’s probably one of the reasons things ended up the way they did. Upon my release from prison, we rekindled our father-and-son relationship.
