by Michael Vick
Contrary to what some people may think, I actually did enjoy school. When I entered college, I really wanted to study criminology, but that wasn’t offered as a major at Tech. Ironic as it may sound, I desired to work in forensics—to do undercover work—after my football career was over. I decided to major in sociology instead.
I was not the best student; I was just average. But I gave a good effort. I took advantage of the academic support the Hokies provided: I went to study hall, and I met with all my tutors. I am proud to say that my academic eligibility and standing were never in question. I probably could have performed better in the classroom, but the fact was that football took up a lot of my time, even though I do not want to use that as an excuse.
I have fond memories of the people who supported my studies at school—my professors, tutors, and advisors. But one person who really stood out was my favorite professor, Nikki Giovanni from the English department. She was an accomplished poet, a published author, and an expert in African studies. Everyone who had her as a teacher really enjoyed her classes. I had a deep love and appreciation for her and how well she was able to teach and keep her students engaged. It was cool because a lot of my teammates and I were in her class together, and we were able to learn from her as a team.
One of Professor Giovanni’s famous quotes is this: “Everything will change. The only question is [whether it’s] growing up or decaying.”
The choice was mine.
Coach Beamer joined my mother and me at the Boys & Girls Club in Newport News for the press conference on January 11, 2001, announcing my decision to turn pro.
I almost didn’t make the deadline to enter the draft for underclassmen because the NFL does not accept fax copies of transcripts—they require original copies. Two days before the deadline, we boarded a small, private plane to travel from the Hampton, Virginia, area to Roanoke. We then drove to the Tech campus in Blacksburg to pick up my college transcripts so they would make it to the NFL office on time. It was a close call. I made it nonetheless.
The day I announced my decision to turn pro was an emotional time for all of us. Coach Beamer knew what type of environment I came from because he had visited me two or three times at my house in Ridley Circle. So he understood how incredible it was for me to have a chance to play in the NFL and to earn a significant income for my family and me.
Coach Beamer meant the world to me—and still does to this day. He’s a great man whose principles are valuable far beyond the playing field. Coach Beamer reiterates this phrase so much: “You’ve got to do things the right way.” It sticks in your mind and it gets embedded in your heart—that you’ve got to do things the right way. It’s what he teaches in his program, and that’s a quality you can carry into your life after football.
I wish I had heeded that principle more in the years that followed. Like Professor Giovanni’s quote says, everything changes. Surroundings change. Situations change. And in change—in transition—you can change for the better, or you can change for the worse.
I was flying. The landscape below was changing.
I would either grow up, or I would decay.
Chapter Four
Favorite Falcon
“I could have done more.”
The moment I announced my decision, my life changed forever. I was leaving behind all that I knew and had become accustomed to—leaving the nest. There was no turning back; I felt I was ready to spread my wings and fly even higher than before.
The cast around me was changing. The landscape below was changing. There was no more Coach Beamer, Tech support staff, or anything like that. I had my friends, my marketing reps, and my agents. People were coming at me from all over the place to be in the “Business of Michael Vick.” There was a lot happening around me, and all I wanted was to get drafted. I was a kid. I wasn’t even twenty-one years old.
For me, the whole draft process began when I was invited to attend the annual NFL Scouting Combine in Indianapolis. Elite players from across the country are selected by NFL general managers and other executives to attend the combine. The players are put through a series of physical tests, medical exams, football drills, psychological evaluations, and interviews with team personnel.
I chose not to participate in many of the activities at the combine. But I did sit for all of the exams and interviews, which I believe went really well. I waited until my Pro Day at Virginia Tech to show my athletic abilities. Pro Days are held by college football programs to showcase their prospects’ talent to NFL scouts. Essentially, they are mini-combines held on campus for NFL teams to attend if they want.
I was a little nervous that morning in March when my Pro Day arrived, but in the end, I tore it up. I ran the forty-yard dash in 4.33 seconds, a speed unmatched by any other quarterback. More importantly though, I performed at an extremely high level in the football drills; I don’t know if I could have done better than I did. I think I completed all but one of my throws, putting only one ball on the ground. My accuracy was on, and my velocity was excellent as well. My arm felt strong, and I was throwing hard—so hard, in fact, that I broke one of my receiver’s fingers with a pass. In addition to that, my timing was on. I was putting it all together: accuracy, velocity, timing, and footwork.
I felt great after my Pro Day; I was full of confidence. I felt like I put in strong performances at my individual workouts with the teams too. What I had accomplished made me feel like the top prospect for the draft. In reality, I didn’t care if I was the first pick in the first round or the third pick in the third round; I just wanted the opportunity to play professional football.
Just like the prior year, I had become a national story and was on the cover of ESPN The Magazine. Every football pundit on television was talking about me during predraft coverage on CBS, NBC, ESPN, etc.; some of the talk was positive, some was negative, and some of it just raised questions.
A few experts had the opportunity to share their thoughts with Sports Illustrated.
Former New York Giants Super Bowl-winning quarterback Phil Simms was quoted as saying, “The real question you have to ask yourself is whether any person in this draft can change your franchise. There’s one: Michael Vick.”
James Harris, the director of pro personnel for the Baltimore Ravens at the time, said, “He could well become one of the greatest playmakers in NFL history.”
But on the flip side, Hall of Fame coach Bill Walsh—the 49ers vice president and GM at the time—said, “He has more potential than [Drew] Brees, but I don’t see how he’ll be able to play regularly until his third year.”
Some people said I wouldn’t stay healthy or play for long, given my penchant for running and throwing my body around; plus, I was considered small. They also questioned whether I could transfer my skills and the excitement I brought in college to the NFL.
All of it was talk. I just wanted to start my professional career.
The San Diego Chargers had the first pick in the 2001 draft and were widely expected to pick me as they looked to rebuild their franchise, but they had been burned by quarterback Ryan Leaf, a major bust. In the buildup to the draft, the Chargers waived Leaf and traded their No. 1 selection to the Atlanta Falcons just one day before the draft. In exchange, Atlanta gave San Diego their first-round choice (No. 5 overall), a third-round pick, a 2002 second-round selection, plus veteran wide receiver/kick returner Tim Dwight.
At the time, I thought that was an odd trade. I felt like my visit with the Chargers had gone well, and I knew they had some preliminary contract talks with my agents. I also knew they were looking for a quarterback and maybe a running back.
I later heard that the Chargers made the trade because they became uncomfortable with drafting me. I had brought friends with me to a workout—friends they didn’t trust would be positive influences in my life—thus making me too great a risk for them to take with the top pick.
I acknowledge that showing up with friends for my workout was very unprofessional. I’ve heard it said th
at the world is 90 percent perception and 10 percent reality. I’d agree. The Chargers didn’t know my friends. They may have actually been good people, but the Chargers automatically assumed that those weren’t the right people to have around because of the image and persona they projected.
In the big picture though, I was actually ecstatic about the trade because it worked in my favor. I didn’t want to go all the way out to California and leave my family. Atlanta was a one-hour flight away, and an eight-hour drive by car, and I love driving. So if I went as the first pick, it was perfect for me.
Around the time of the draft, I had the opportunity to meet two of my quarterbacking heroes who, like me, had nimble feet to go with strong arms: Steve Young and Randall Cunningham. I was very flattered that Young said he believed I had once-in-a-generation potential. The admiration was entirely mutual.
Young was my favorite player growing up because, like me, he was a lefty and a runner. He played for the San Francisco 49ers, and I loved him with the 49ers. He had all types of weapons around him—Jerry Rice, John Taylor, Ricky Watters—and Deion Sanders was there a couple of years too. The defense had Ken Norton, Merton Hanks, Tim McDonald, Eric Davis, and Charles Haley. They were stacked!
I always dreamed of being the leader of a team like that.
The day of the draft was beautiful. It was a perfect spring day in New York City, and I just knew I would be the first pick. I had been waiting for this day since I was seven years old—when I told my grandmother that I wanted to play professional football and she looked at me and said, “Well, you have to learn how to play.”
And here I was.
At the draft, I was with my mom, dad, brother, both sisters, two close friends, cousins, and my then-girlfriend and high school sweetheart, Tameka Taylor. We were really excited because we knew going to the NFL would be a life-changing situation.
Shortly after the draft began, I watched as then-NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue stepped up to the podium and said, “With the first selection in the 2001 NFL draft, the Atlanta Falcons select Michael Vick, quarterback, Virginia Tech.” I was beyond emotion. I hugged everyone I was with. Then I walked onto the stage of the theater at Madison Square Garden, shook hands with the commissioner, and was handed an Atlanta Falcons hat and a jersey with No. 1 on it, just like high school—only this time I knew I would only wear No. 7. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I was an Atlanta Falcon.
I was headed to a talented team. They had a veteran quarterback I could learn from in Chris Chandler, Pro Bowl running back Jamal Anderson, and talented receivers Terance Mathis and Tony Martin. On defense, there were up-and-coming youngsters Keith Brooking and Patrick Kerney. It was a great situation.
Not only had I become an NFL quarterback and the second No. 1 pick from Virginia Tech (Bruce Smith, 1985), most importantly, I was the first African-American quarterback in history to be picked first overall in the NFL draft.
It was, and still is, a tremendous honor. It’s something that will stand forever—the first one. I was the first to overcome that barrier in African-American history. Others, like Donovan McNabb, were capable, but I don’t think it was ever a racial thing. Teams pick based on their needs. Since then, two more black quarterbacks have been drafted first overall: LSU’s JaMarcus Russell in 2007 by the Oakland Raiders, and Auburn’s Cam Newton in 2011 by the Carolina Panthers.
The trade worked out not only for me and the Falcons, but for the Chargers too. Some commentators, like Sports Illustrated’s Peter King, have since said it was the most interesting trade of the decade. San Diego picked TCU running back LaDainian Tomlinson with the fifth selection and used their second-round pick on Purdue quarterback Drew Brees, giving them a sensational—even historic—draft and the position players they needed. Tomlinson and Brees teamed up to make San Diego a consistent contender and one of the most talented teams in the NFL.
LaDainian, who moved to the New York Jets through free agency before the 2010-11 season, has had a Hall of Fame career. Drew might also be en route to enshrinement in Canton, Ohio, especially after leading the New Orleans Saints to a Super Bowl championship and earning MVP honors in the process.
The Falcons, then owned by Taylor Smith, made the 2001 trade expecting great things from me. In an interview shortly after the trade, Atlanta’s general manager at the time, Harold Richardson, told Sports Illustrated’s Don Banks that he considered the swap comparable to the deal the Denver Broncos made to acquire quarterback John Elway from the then-Baltimore Colts in 1983. Elway eventually led the Broncos to two Super Bowl titles and three other championship game appearances in a Hall of Fame career.
My first coach in Atlanta, Dan Reeves, says that back then he thought I could be a player similar to Elway, my childhood idol Steve Young, or former Dallas Cowboys great Roger Staubach. Reeves coached Elway, coached against Young, and played with Staubach. All of those quarterbacks were good runners, great leaders, Super Bowl champions, and league MVPs. Coach Reeves thought I was a good scrambler and would only get better as I “learned to throw the football and not rely on running so much.” He later said, “I don’t know of anybody who ever played the game that—at the quarterback position—was the fastest player on the field.”
But in addition to my playing ability, the Falcons drafted me to rebrand the franchise and help sell tickets. Anytime you’ve got a team that’s struggling, you want to bring in a main attraction. Maybe LaDainian Tomlinson would’ve done it too, but Atlanta already had a top running back in Jamal Anderson. I was ready to bring excitement to Atlanta.
My first contract dramatically changed my economic base, filling my bank account with more money than I’d ever fathomed growing up in Newport News. That in itself was a huge challenge as I adjusted to the NFL.
My $3 million signing bonus was my first paycheck in the NFL, but after taxes, it ended up being about $1.9 million. I was surprised by the taxes taken out of my check.
No one taught me how to handle money. I never had a real job. I had been active in sports as a youngster, so the only paying jobs I had before the NFL were working part-time as a painter for my uncle and serving as a pool boy for my high school coach.
In addition to being naïve about taxes, I was not prepared to go from having no money in my pocket to $2 million. Suddenly, I could buy my mom everything I promised her and everything I wanted for her. I could buy almost anything. The world was mine.
The first thing I bought was a gold Lincoln Navigator with 22-inch rims. My second purchase was four scooters. And my third purchase was my mother’s house. It felt great to be able to buy my mom whatever she wanted. I felt like she had been a part of everything I worked for.
As a family, we knew we would be set financially for the rest of our lives. It was complete jubilation. But we also knew that with more money came more responsibility for me, and I wanted to do a lot of things for my family. I gave everyone a nice chunk of change—$20,000 or $30,000 apiece. I took care of a lot of people because we had a very tight-knit family and we stuck together. We were there for one another.
I put my family in the position to go out and buy themselves nice things and live comfortably. It was gratifying, and I enjoyed providing for them—even spoiling them.
I was very blessed that my arrival in Atlanta seemed to infuse excitement into the Falcons’ organization. Ticket sales escalated, and the team’s value was on the rise by the time Taylor Smith sold the franchise to Home Depot cofounder Arthur Blank in 2002.
I had a positive public image for my first four or five seasons in the NFL. Our team made two playoff appearances, including a berth in the NFC Championship game during the 2004 season, and I was selected to three Pro Bowls.
I played sparingly as a rookie, starting only twice, and passing for two touchdowns and running for one. A rushing touchdown was the first score of my pro career. It happened in the second game of the season against the Carolina Panthers.
We were on the 2-yard line, and I can remember approaching the end
zone. The Panthers had their backs turned, and I was saying to myself, There is the end zone right there. Just get to it. I took off.
Panthers safety Mike Minter turned around quickly—at the drop of a dime—and hit me right in the ribs. I still made it to the end zone, which made me happy. But at the same time, I was hurting because he bruised my ribs. The play was just like when I scored my first Pop Warner touchdown as a quarterback: I was on the ground. After I stood up, all I could think was, That’s the first of many.
We finished 7-9 my rookie year. But we improved to 9-6-1 and earned a wildcard berth to the playoffs the next season as I became the full-time starter and the face of the franchise. We got off to a slow start at 1-3, but then completed an NFL-best, eight-game unbeaten streak, going 7-0-1 during the stretch.
In September of that same season, I was blessed to return to Blacksburg, where Virginia Tech honored me by retiring my jersey. I became the fifth player in school history to receive such an honor.
The moment was particularly special because it was something I never included in my dreams of becoming an NFL quarterback. More than anything, it showed me that I was on the right track. Here I was—just a kid from Newport News who had a dream of being an NFL player—and my college jersey was being retired after only two seasons on the field with the Hokies and one year in the NFL. It gave me a huge confidence boost for my second NFL season—my first as Atlanta’s regular starter.
It was a different atmosphere from my rookie year to my second year. Though I approached playing in the NFL with a relaxed and mellow attitude since we were rebuilding and flying under the radar, I still knew I had to live up to Atlanta’s expectations of me. After all, they traded to get the No. 1 pick in the draft and select me. I had too much pride to be a draft bust.
The more games we won my second year, the more I felt like I was becoming a leader. I believe you can’t make yourself a leader—people have to see leadership in you. I tried to lead by my actions on the field, and my teammates started to respect me and look to me. We had momentum heading into the playoffs, which created more of a demand for consistency. People saw our potential, so we had to live up to it.
