You Are Pierre Thomas and You Believe in Dramatic Comebacks

You say you will play on Saturday, broken ribs be damned, and why should we be surprised? It's the way you've always approached the game. It's the way you always will until you walk away for the last time.

You always had to prove the doubters wrong. Even after a stellar career at Illinois. Even after you outplayed Antonio Pittman of Ohio State in that game in your senior year in Champaign-Urbana. You averaged seven yards a carry that day in Memorial Stadium, and you burned inside that they considered Pittman better than you.

But the doubters still doubted. The draft guru with the fancy hair said you didn't have enough size, enough speed, enough moves.

You and that hotshot from Ohio State, Mr. Pittman, would cross paths again in 2007. Pittman, a fourth-round pick. You, an undrafted free agent.

Deep down, there was something you relished about that. You knew you were the better man, and given the chance, you would strut your stuff for the whole damned coaching staff to see. Pittman was cut Sept. 1, 2007 to make room for you on the roster, and you couldn't help but smile inside because you knew all along that was the way it would go down.

You wouldn't burst onto the national scene until December of that year, but when you did, you did it in grand style.

You did it in your hometown of Chicago. A little poetic justice, you thought to yourself.

You were really pumped that day, playing in front of family and friends, and you weren't about to blow the chance to show everybody that they were wrong about you after all. You became the first player in team history to gain more than 100 yards rushing and receiving in the same game.

And you went undrafted? Pittman went fourth? What do they know?

One year later, you ran a kickoff back 88 yards for a touchdown against Tampa Bay and the Superdome erupted as you kept the team's dwindling playoff hopes alive.

Your teammate Lance Moore told the media after the game, "You look at him, and you wonder where all that strength comes." You tell them it comes from a '91 Dodge Dynasty.

A '91 Dodge Dynasty?

You say back in high school you and a friend took turns pushing that damned thing down the block.

"I pushed that sucker for two blocks while he steered. We kept swapping. Kept doing it, day after day. Kept those legs moving. It was the best thing I ever did," you said.

Kept pushing. Kept moving. Kept grinding.

You told them that, growing up, you idolized Emmitt Smith and Barry Sanders. You said the thing that grabbed you about them was their leg drive and you said that's where it all started.You told them about that hill around your house that you would climb as a schoolboy, weighted down with a backpack full of weights.

"Great for the legs," you said. "Great to give you the confidence you need to succeed."

Five years later, you would be pushing NFL linebackers around instead of a Dodge Dynasty.

On draft day 2009, the Saints still had their doubts about you. They questioned your ability to be the team's featured back. They doubted your ability to get it done on third-and-short. They wondered if that extra 10 pounds of bulk you added to your frame would slow you down.

They expressed interest in Edgerrin James.They tried to make a deal for Beanie Wells—another one of those backs from Ohio State.

But you had a message for them. "Any running back out there who thinks he can take my job, bring 'em in. I'm up to challenge, and I'll beat them out," you said.

You told reporters you didn't take it personally. Just business, you said.

You said you would fight to stay here. You would fight to be the back they want. You would show them they don't need to bring anybody else in. You said you had the confidence they needed out there.

When head coach Sean Payton told the media that he thought the back he needed to compete was already in the building, you knew in your heart and soul he was talking about you—and by year's end, you were the best running back on the Saints roster.

You led the team with 1,095 yards from scrimmage. The team was 4-3 when you carried the ball less than eight times. You accounted for nearly a quarter of the team's offense during the games you played. You proved you could do it all—run, catch, block, and all the other stuff.

You know those ESPN geniuses won't mention you this week. They will gloat about the hotshot from Ohio State, Beanie Wells. But your track record isn't half bad against those backs from OSU.

The broken ribs sting. You know on Saturday there's no way out of it. No way of protecting those ribs from bone-crushing hits.

You don't want your ribs to penetrate your lungs. You want to be smart. Be safe.

But you know this may be your only chance to win a Super Bowl and nothing is keeping you off that field.

You give all the credit to Mom. You say she was the one who told you never to give up, to go out and play every game, to have fun, and to keep working hard. You always listened to her. You say you think about her words of wisdom often and will cherish them the rest of your life.

You say if you work hard anything's possible.

You are Pierre Thomas, and you believe in dramatic comebacks.