Shortly after I was released for the final time in my NFL career, a friend of mine thought it would be a good idea to drive to Mexico for the night, which was only a two-and-a-half hour drive from Los Angeles. Needing an obvious distraction from my disappointing NFL career, I cautiously agreed.
To my surprise, in the middle of night, at an extremely racy Tijuana club (yeah, I had a stereotypical NFL night out, leave me alone), I ran into a former NFL coach of mine, who currently is a household name but at the time was relatively unknown to the general public.
He happened to be coaching in a game against the Chargers the very next day, yet he was actually in a club partying it up the night before a big, season-opening NFL game.
When the coach recognized me, he was clearly embarrassed and noticeably nervous. He was with a friend as well, whom he claimed dragged him here without him knowing he'd ever end up in a place like this. Yeah, me too.
We both just unwittingly stumbled into a Mexican strip cub, blindfolded by our friends as we held the Bible in one hand and our innocence in the other.
That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it!
One important difference between us that night was that I had nothing important to do the next day, while he had 53 men relying heavily on his preparation and focus for a nationally televised game.
Not a very good excuse for NFL-caliber preparation.