It’s funny in life how some things can make you laugh, and some things can make you cry. But every once and a while you cross that rare something that sparks both emotions – something that makes you cherish the little things you normally don’t think about – and in the process, teaches you important lessons about yourself.
Jamell Edwards made that moment possible for me.
I met Jamell about 8 years ago at the Joe Namath Football camp. He was an average 17 year old football player with aspirations to one day play college football. There was only one problem: Jamell lacked the support of both his legs. Instead, he had two prosthetic legs, which let him run the forty with the speed of an extremely fast tortoise. I didn’t think much of it during our initial meeting; Jamell seemed like a nice enough guy but we went on our separate ways after camp ended.
The next July I had a different experience when I returned to camp as a coach. I had been going through some turmoil as thick as the Meadowlands weeds myself, due largely to my then recent decision to turn down a full scholarship offer from a small Division II college in Massachusetts. It was a very stressful process opting to remain at Monmouth University in New Jersey and not play anymore. In many ways, football had been the driving force in my life and its absence was felt.
I was still struggling with these personal decisions when I made the trek to camp that July. Football camp was meant to be a summer job, and my chance to get back on the field. The last thing I expected was an experience that would rejuvenate my spirit and help teach me what is important in life. And then I saw Jamell.
There he was – with his smile as bright as pearls and a heart the size of Alaska – ready to dive head first into the training sessions. I asked Jamell how everything had been going, and what his future plans were. To my surprise, he told me his dreams of playing college football were still alive but he was facing two obstacles – one, his prosthetics were about as good for football as Namath’s one barred helmet, and two, he had to convince a college coach that he was good enough to play on his team.
I watched a makeshift tape of Jamell performing everyday activities: walking, jogging, and doing so much more than I would if I faced his limitations (it’s drinks with the little umbrellas all the way for me). The tape was touching, but it didn’t bring me to tears. They would come when I heard from the man himself. I challenged anyone to sit with Jamell and try to control their emotions while he enthusiastically talks about his dream – his dream to be one of the first people with prosthetic legs to ever play college football.
During the course of camp I talked extensively with Jamell about the seriousness of this issue. That was one big goal. I asked him if he would be happy to be the first person facing his physical challenge to ever play a down in a college football game (with two prosthetics, not one). He looked at me with unbridled enthusiasm and responded, “All I want is the chance.” I explained there is a good possibility he might not make it, and he knew that. He was a dreamer, but also a realist. Yet he has the drive of the best pros in the NFL. If I were a coach, I would jump on him like a hundred dollar bill lying in the middle of Times Square.
So I did what any good friend would do at the time. I made a new tape and sent it out to college coaches of all sorts. In short, I told them Jamell expects nothing from you. In fact, the last thing he expects is to be an outcast who receives special treatment. And when he falls, it’s ugly. But you know what? He gets up just as fast as anyone else and is ready for the next play. You cannot teach heart, especially on the level that Jamell exhibits on a daily basis. To all you college coaches out there I strongly urge you to give Jamell the chance. That’s all he is asking. Take a chance and I believe you’d be repaid tenfold.
You may ask yourself, “Is it worth the risk? What’s in it for me?” Let’s think about that for a moment. Although it’s the last thing on Jamell’s mind, imagine the effect on public relations, donations to your program, who knows what else. Chances are, Jamell would come to your school and find out how hard college football really is. How nitty the gritty gets in the trenches. He may reach the realization that he may never be part of a starting squad. Then what? Then he stays on the team and has the heart of a lion. He comes to every practice to work out and get better; not only that, to make your team better. One down, that’s all he is craving.
I once read a Rick Reilly article on the back page of Sports Illustrated that told the tale of a coach who played a boy with severe autism. The kid got the ball and nobody touched him. He ran the wrong way, in fact. Nobody cared about the impact on the game however; because they were too busy crying their eyes out. Things like that have extraordinary rewards. If this kid can play, why cant Jamell, who has been playing his whole life? What if Jamell gets his sport prosthetics leg sponsorship? What if he shows you he has the animal instinct of Jaws mowing people down in the backfield? You would be a genius. If not? You’ll have the bright-smiled Jamell standing on the sideline happy as can be because he finally made his dream come true.
Like I said, Jamell expects nothing from you. All he asks for is a shot, a shot for something he isn’t ready to give up.
Well I’ll tell you what Jamell, I gave up football and you are one of the only reasons that I would ever think of going back. Not because I miss it. Because you let me see how lucky I am just to be able to sprint, never mind play at a division IAA school. I’m proud of you Jamell, and if they aren’t willing to give you a shot, I will.
You can have my scholarship anytime…
*Since this article unfolded, 5 years have past. Jamell missed out on his opportunity to play college football and has since directed his efforts towards coaching. He resides in South Carolina where he intends to finish his degree and make a difference in the life of children much like himself. It’s not always the best athletes or the difference makers who deserve their 15 minutes of fame. Everyone does. He is a friend I will never forget who helped me through one of the toughest times in my life. So I thought I owed him this…I wanted his story to be heard.