Finally Free (2 page)

The story is not complete, by any means, but this book will let you know why I'm so proud of Michael Vick and honored to call him a friend—because he has made the later chapters of his life better than the earlier ones.

And isn't that what life is all about?

—Tony Dungy

Acknowledgments

I would like to give a special thanks to Tony Dungy, Roger Goodell, Jeffrey Lurie, and Andy Reid for believing in me and giving me a second chance.

Also, I want to thank my agent, Joel Segal; my publicist, Chris Shigas; and Rick French, for all of their hard work and for helping me get my career back on track.

There are so many people who have had a great impact on my life. To Pastor Kelley, thank you for your prayers and discipleship. To Coach Reamon, thank you for teaching me. To Coach Beamer, thank you for leading me. To Mr. Blank, thank you for first giving me an opportunity and then for your forgiveness. To Danny, thank you for all of your hard work, guidance, and counsel. And to Woody, thank you for your continued support and for always having my back.

Brett and Steve, I can't thank you enough for assisting me in putting my story and feelings on paper. And thanks to The Core Media Group for giving me the opportunity to share my story and provide hope and inspiration for others.

But most importantly I would like to thank my family, friends, everyone who visited me in Kansas, and my current and former teammates for being there for me at a time in my life when I needed them most. Thank you.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge the love and grace of God; without Him, I would not have a story to share.

Introduction

 

When the idea for this book was first conceived, Michael Vick was a backup quarterback. He wanted to tell his story so that other people, particularly youth, could learn from his mistakes.

He wanted to express yet again his sincere apologies for getting involved in a barbaric dogfighting operation that landed him in jail for eighteen months, plus two months of home confinement and three years of probation after that.

He wanted to share some of what life was like behind bars and how his relationship with God was rekindled during those dreary days of incarceration.

He wanted to talk about the absolute joy of getting a second chance to play in the National Football League, even if he was mostly watching from the sidelines.

There was no indication then that Vick, a former three-time Pro Bowler with the Atlanta Falcons, would do anything other than run a few plays out of the Wildcat formation for the Philadelphia Eagles during the 2010 season, just as he had done in '09.

But then there was a telephone conversation—Vick with his former high school coach, Tommy Reamon, on the eve of the Eagles' season-opening game against the Green Bay Packers.
Reamon says he told Vick the game would change his life. Vick didn't quite know what to make of such a bold statement.

But Reamon was right. Eagles' starter Kevin Kolb was injured in the first half, and Vick entered the game and played extremely well in the second half. From that point on—even when he was out with a rib injury for three games—Vick became firmly established as the Eagles' starting quarterback.

He played with a maturity and a precision in the passing game that he'd never displayed in Atlanta. Yet he still possessed those magic legs with the nifty moves that had made him such a threat to run with the Falcons.

As the 2010 season went along, Vick's resurgence quickly became the story of the season in the NFL. He appeared on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
. He was interviewed at length by virtually every major sports television network.

He was back—all the way back, better than ever.

He turned in a performance for the ages against the Washington Redskins on
Monday Night Football
, accounting for six touchdowns—four passing and two running. He led the league in passing for weeks and eventually became the leading NFC vote-getter in fan balloting for the Pro Bowl and the second-leading vote-getter in the NFL.

Imagine that: just a few months earlier, the same person who was voted the most disliked athlete in America was now receiving more Pro Bowl votes from fans than nearly any other player. Obviously forgiveness, redemption, and second chances remain cornerstones of our society.

The man who suspended him from the NFL, league commissioner Roger Goodell, was quoted late in the season as saying he was proud of Vick and cited as exemplary the way Vick was trying to be a model for others on and off the field, which included regularly giving talks denouncing dogfighting on behalf of the Humane Society of the United States.

Then, in early December, the same US District Court judge who had sentenced Vick to prison, the Honorable Henry E. Hudson, praised Vick's progress in an interview with the
Washington Post
. “He's an example of how the system can work,” said Hudson. “He's having a terrific season. I'm very happy for him. I wish him the best of success.”

What Goodell and Judge Hudson did, in effect, was put the matter back in our hands. We were each left to determine what we were going to do with the Vick issue. Would we forgive?

This, then, is a story as much about the rest of us as it is about Michael Vick. It will chronicle perhaps the most remarkable personal and professional turnaround in pro sports history.

Part I:

The Rise

Chapter One

In the Beginning

“The beginning of my love for football goes back to when I was seven years old.”

 

H
okies.

Falcons.

Eagles.

I've always been a bird.

I went from the ground—a foundation of faith and family that positioned me for success … to the air—a dangerous and selfish rise that took me higher and higher in flight … to a crash—a wounding yet deserved fall that took me lower and lower … to the cage—a humbling and desolate state that helped me return to the ground, rediscover my foundation, long for redemption, and ignite a strong desire to change.

To change and rise again …

After everything I have been through in my life and football career, it was surreal to be back in Hawaii for the Pro Bowl in January 2011.

I sat in the middle of the bus that was transporting the NFC team from our hotel to the practice field, surrounded by three star players from my former team, the Atlanta Falcons. Wide receiver Roddy White was to my back right, quarterback Matt Ryan was directly across the aisle from me, and running back Michael Turner sat directly in front of me. We talked some, but mostly Matt and Roddy kidded Michael Turner about his eating.

It was so ironic that we were sitting together. I spent six years with the Falcons, making the Pro Bowl on three occasions, and even though my time with them didn't end anything like I or anyone else expected, I still have a fondness in my heart for that organization. I forever will.

Once the bus arrived, I was amazed at the scene that was in front of me. Fans packed the path to the practice field. I saw reporters, cameras, and banners welcoming everyone to the 2011 Pro Bowl—the all-star game that follows each NFL season. It's one of the greatest honors in the league to be selected for the game, especially since your peers and fans both get to vote.

The sun was shining bright that day. It was beautiful. Everyone I looked at had a smile on his or her face, especially the children. They wanted to get helmets and other items signed. I tried to sign as many autographs as possible, but the security officers assigned to us kept ushering me toward the field.

It was a long but incredible walk. I felt such a sense of accomplishment as I looked at all the great players around me. I felt a sense of belonging. It was so rewarding to feel like I was back on the right track.

I kept having flashbacks, though.

I thought about my two long years away from football, when I didn't know if I would ever make it back to the Pro Bowl.

I thought about how hard I worked to get there again and the incredible opportunity the Philadelphia Eagles gave me with a second chance to play in the NFL.

And I thought about my childhood years, when I first dreamed of playing in the NFL. Back then, in the beginning, being in a place like Hawaii was beyond my wildest imagination.

I grew up in the Ridley Circle housing project—unit 667—in the crime-infested East End of Newport News, Virginia. Back then, I was known as “Ookie,” a nickname that was given to me by my Aunt Tina shortly after I was born, on June 26, 1980.

The environment I grew up in played a tremendous part in my youth. There were consequences—both good and bad—that I had to deal with.

Newport News is sometimes referred to as “NewportNam”—a word twist on “Vietnam.” The inference is that Newport News is a jungle-like war zone with pitfalls and traps at every turn. You just never knew when a peaceful situation would turn into a violent, volatile situation.

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.