Prior to the beginning of
the first mini-camp this year, I had the opportunity to personally chat with
Seahawks fullback Chris Davis. I spoke to Chris as a fan, not as a writer and
I listened as he told me how great it felt when he found out that he had made
the final roster as a rookie in the 2003 season, and subsequently how horrible
it hurt when his left knee gave out during the first game of the regular season.
I listened as he told me how hard he was working to rehab the knee and bring
it back to full strength before the beginning of the season. It was at that
time that I became personally involved in the story. I began to care about Chris,
just as a friend or even a brother would watch the progress of his little brother.
I became so involved with
Chris’s comeback that I decided to write
an article about him, simply because I wanted everyone else to understand
why this kid was going to make it. My selfish hope was that I would eventually
feel vindicated in investing so much emotion in one player.
However, as
the first mini-camps opened, the team decided that Chris wasn’t ready.
I read the reports of how much it killed him to not be on the field with his
brothers, and how much he was looking forward to training camp so he finally
could put the injury behind him.
Training camp began and
Chris was finally ready. He was having a great camp, showing the coaches and
the other players that he was finally back to his old self. His play spoke for
itself as the hot topic in camp became his ability to rise above incumbent Heath Evans on the depth chart and once again make the final roster. He was finally
beginning to trust his knee again.
This is where I once again
was able to speak briefly with Chris. I knew that after writing the story about
him that I should separate myself from the story and remain unbiased, but I
couldn’t. I talked with him again at camp, asked him how he was doing
and found myself becoming proud as he smiled and said that he was doing great.
He felt great, the knee felt good, and he was ready to prove me right (his own
words while speaking about my article).
Life isn’t fair. It
became clear again in this preseason game.
I watched on Thursday night
as Chris was lining up on special teams for the first kickoff of the evening.
It was noteworthy simply because he had not been on the field at all in the
first half (Heath Evans had started and played the entire game on offense so
far). I watched intently as the ball was kicked, and on this kickoff, he made
a couple of side-to-side “juke” moves to try and get around the
blocker, but the blocker wasn’t fooled and locked on to Chris, driving
him back and away from the play. It wasn’t his best performance, but I
was happy to see him get some field time again. In fact, I made the comment
to my seat neighbor that I was happy to see him on the field with the first
team special teams unit because this is how he made the team last year.
It was now time for the
second-half kickoff. Once again, the Hawks lined up right in front of where
we sat in the North end zone, and I focused on Chris. The ball was kicked and
he began running down the field. As he approached his blocker, he once again
started the same side-to-side move to try and get around the blocker, but after
the first side move, he dropped. The blocker never even touched him. As Chris
fell to the ground clutching his knee, my heart stopped. I kept saying “C’mon
Chris, get up” but I had seen other players on TV that were running and
dropped to the ground without being touched, in every case a serious knee injury.
I knew even before his teammates began circling him that it had happened.
I saw Kerry Carter come
over to his side; Carter later said that he knew. “I looked back and it
was him. Right then, I was like, 'I hope it's not his knee. I hope it's not
his knee.'"
I saw Heath Evans run to him immediately. "I just wanted to be the first
one by his side," Evans said. "Because that man ... we've been so
much time in prayer together and I've really been lifting him up."
But I didn’t feel
anything but numbness. My little brother, my good friend, my hero, the one man
that I had invested all of my feelings into, was hurt. His left knee and its
ACL that had been torn in the prior season, was fine. It was his right knee
that had given out.
I was both proud and angry
when he picked himself off the field and hopped on one leg to the sidelines.
His pride prevented him from waiting for the trainers to come to him in the
field and carrying him off as had happened in the prior year. This time, he
knew what had happened, but he was going off the field on his terms, the only
terms he had left. I was proud of him for this show of defiance towards this
unrelenting foe, but as his teammates began encircling him as he sat on the
sidelines, it was easy to see that each of them knew. Chris knew. He had been
through it before.
The game became nothing
to me; my focus was on the sidelines. I watched as they loaded him onto the
cart. I watched as those fans in the front rows cheered for him as he went by.
I watched as Chris left the field far before his time for the second year in
a row. I couldn’t help but think that this may be the last time I ever
see Chris Davis. NFL teams don’t sign backup players with 3 ACL injuries.
Very few individuals have ever beaten those odds. I struggle to regain hope
for Chris that he may be one of those few.
But as he left the field
on the cart and entered the tunnel, I was happy that the game was going on so
that nobody around me would see me wiping the tears from my eyes.
You have a year left on
your rookie contract, Chris. Make me believe again.
Mark Olsen writes frequently for Seahawks.NET. Feel free to send him feedback
at seahawk94@comcast.net.