Free Coming Back Stronger: Unleashing the Hidden Power of Adversity by Drew Brees Page A

losing to the Bills at Orchard Park, New York. Nobody on our team was playing well. I know I wasn’t. In the fourth quarter Marty came up to me on the sideline and said, “I’m going to pull you, and I’m going to put Flutie in.”
    I knew Doug had some loaded history with the Bills after his time playing there. He was pretty pumped up for the game, and I could understand that. But I couldn’t believe that Marty would take me out. So I voiced my displeasure.
    “We just need a spark right now,” Marty said. “I think Doug can do that for us.”
    I could understand it from a coaching perspective, but I also remembered what Doug had told me about not letting your backup see the field. This was the first time anybody had pulled me out of a game like that. Coaches had taken me out because we were up by four touchdowns, more of a “Hey, great job—you’re done for the day” kind of thing. But this wasn’t a reward; this was pulling me for somebody else. And I wasn’t about to let that happen.
    “No, I’m not coming out,” I said.
    Marty recognized the fire in me and said, “You’re still the starter. It’s just for this game.”
    I was angry and hurt, and I kept pushing. “No, you can’t do this. This is my team. I’m not coming out.”
    He said, “Oh yes, you are. Doug is in.”
    I fought Marty really hard, but there’s a point when you finally have to relent to the head coach. There was nothing I could say or do to change his mind. I realized I had to accept his decision and support the team.
    We wound up losing our last four games and went 8–8 that year. Once again we missed the playoffs. But as we assessed the past few seasons, we could see a gradual improvement in the team. We had gone from winning one game to five games to eight games. That progression gave us hope for the next year. Our talent level was off the charts, and so were our expectations.

Coming Back Stronger
    A Low Point in My Career
    But in 2003, things didn’t work out as planned. Looking back, I can see how the adversity of that season helped prepare me for better things down the road, but it was excruciating at the time. I was still a young player, with much to learn about playing in the big leagues. Going into that season, we were as talented a team as I’d ever known, and the expectation was playoffs or bust. Unfortunately, it ended up being a huge bust. Injuries plagued us all season long, but the real problem was our youth, inexperience, and lack of leadership. When things started going downhill early in the season with a 0–5 start, the finger-pointing began.
    No one wanted to admit they were at fault, so instead, players went around blaming everyone else. Cliques began forming on the team, and people would either bash the coaches or talk about the other guys behind their backs. The negativity became like a disease that spread throughout our team and infected us all to the point that we were completely dysfunctional. There was so much distrust in each other and in the system that the young guys didn’t know who to follow.
    The fact is, we were all to blame. Especially me, because it’s my job as a quarterback to squash that kind of stuff the minute it rears its ugly head. But I was young and probably not equipped to handle it at the time. Still, you live and learn. Sometimes you have to go through some deep valleys in order to climb the next mountain.
    The lowest point of that season came in the eighth game of the year. We were 1–6 and playing at Chicago. The minute I got into the game, I began putting intense pressure on myself. I desperately wanted things to turn around with this game. I knew I needed to relax and just play, but I couldn’t loosen up. This led to forced throws, and I played terribly for the first three quarters.
    Near the end of the third quarter, we were down 13–0. Chicago had just kicked a field goal, putting us behind by two scores. If we were going to win, I knew we needed a big momentum shift.