For 2-3 years starting at the age of 12, I used to light my father’s crack pipe for him—he was blind, as he had lost his sight from being shot in his face with a shotgun after a drug induced argument with another drug addict. He spent time in prison for drug and similarly related offences. When he was gone, my mother held her position for my brothers and I as our stabilizing force—a rock—the thing water flew around, and sometimes over, but never moved, and never drowned.

I learned to play sports—because I believe my choices were, you played on teams or you played in streets—and my mother knew which way I should be headed, and did everything she could to get me on that trajectory. Others in the community stepped up as well, including coaches who would be willing to sponsor me for associated fees, long before anyone had any expectation that I might be able to go into the NFL. This is what I learned:

Even though nobody is coming to save you, everybody needs good, stable, teammates.

I’m now in my forties, and I’ve had a blessed, beautiful life. I am a proud husband and father—first and foremost—and also a former NFL athlete who had the honor of a 12-year career including, statistically, becoming the second-highest rated TE in Chicago Bears history. I speak, and consult, in businesses. I’ve been surrounded by rock-solid teammates and coaches in every aspect of my life.

People who stayed stable and allowed me to have stability, regardless of the tide. Thank you, Mom.