This feature originally appeared in the February 22, 2008 issue of ESPN The Magazine.
The storm is coming.
Just days before Hurricane Gustav hits New Orleans, National Guard trucks roar down Canal Street as workers board up store windows. Meanwhile, most of the Ritz-Carlton valet staff is huddled around Jeremy Shockey's white Escalade, trying to fix a flat before the tight end's new team evacuates to Indianapolis. Shockey has been living out of his ride since late July, when the Giants traded the four-time Pro Bowler to the Saints for two draft picks. As the rear hatch is opened, some footballs, dress shoes and ties tumble to the pavement. So does a blue-and-gray Giants hat, the one Shockey wore while hobbling on the sideline last winter with a broken fibula as New York made its way to the Super Bowl -- without him.
A bellhop retrieves Shockey's lid from the ground and offers it to him. "You want it?" Shockey asks. "Go ahead, take it. I don't need it anymore."
No, he doesn't. Earlier that day, Shockey sat in the hotel's sun-drenched lounge over a lunch of chicken gumbo and Coors Light. He ate with his left foot propped on an armchair, exposing the raised purple scars above his left ankle. Last December, Shockey was run-blocking during a loss to the Redskins when Giants wideout Amani Toomer rolled up on the back of his leg, snapping the bone. Maybe it was the memory of that hit or the arrival of Hurricane Gustav or drama fatigue after an ugly divorce from the Giants, but Shockey's mood was pure Big Easy: relaxed, conciliatory, peaceful. The man who kept the New York tabloids in OT had a few things he wanted to get off his chest, but mostly he offered a thoughtful and heartfelt take on what it's like to miss the biggest game of your career and how it feels to stand at the crossroads of a career.
Conciliatory? Thoughtful? Heartfelt?
Hey, this is Jeremy Shockey we're talking about. The man never fails to surprise.
Everyone wants to know what it feels like to watch your team go to the Super Bowl and win without you. I'll tell you: It's like how every year you get older and fewer and fewer people realize it's your birthday. It's supposed to be your special day, and you're not being noticed. It's like you're married to someone for 50 years, but you don't celebrate the anniversary. It's a day you build up to and work for, and just at the moment that you are supposed to have fulfillment and happiness -- no, you don't get any.
I'd like to think that what I went through would bother any NFL player. You work your whole life trying to reach one goal -- the Super Bowl -- then you get hurt, by a teammate on the back side of a play, and now you aren't able to play in that ultimate game. It hurts. That's the one thing, through all this, that people don't really realize: I would have loved to play in the Super Bowl. It hurt to miss that game.
I don't think my persona ever got out of control in New York. I've always played with a lot of energy, in a physical manner and with attitude. I got hurt, yeah, but I also hurt a lot of people, too, you know? I just love to play this game the way it was meant to be played -- physical. I play to that little point where it's so physical it's almost reckless. It's a fine line of emotion that you have to tap into. I've always been able to find that. It's how God made me.
It's why I don't put down number-type goals. I never compare myself to other tight ends. I despise people who do that. All I judge myself by is playing at a high level on every play. There's just something about lining up at 250 pounds and looking at a defensive end who is 280 or 290 and trying to win that battle. A lot of people are asked to do that, but most don't bother to do it right. As a tight end in that situation, you're always undersized. People say blocking is a mind-set, but really it's way more of just a pure physical battle.
The thing is, people look at me like I act with that edge off the field, too. Come on, if I did that, I'd be in jail or out robbing a bank right now. I'm human like anyone else. So it's not a good feeling if people view it that the Giants were better without me, that my attitude caused problems. That's their opinion. Obviously, I don't think it's true.
Look, I'm glad my teammates won everything. But the media were trying to make fans either feel sorry for me or feel like the team didn't need me, and it ended up like a bad soap opera. The media never took the time to consider how I was feeling. But why would they do that? That would take too long, be too hard. Fans don't form their own opinions now. They just believe what they're told, what they read. It's why we live in a society where you can be famous for doing nothing more than showing your panties a few times.
When it came time for the actual game, I was f-ed either way: if I went to the Super Bowl or if I didn't. I didn't want
to be a distraction. What good am I with a broken leg? The Giants already have cheerleaders -- why would they need me? But I decided to go at the last minute. I flew myself out on a five- to six-hour flight in a middle seat. I couldn't walk. I couldn't do anything. Then the Giants wouldn't let me sit on the sideline, so I sat upstairs during the game. I didn't get invited to the parade or the party or the celebration, and that's fine. [Says Giants spokesman Pat Hanlon: "I would and could categorically refute those claims; however, it serves no purpose to do so. We wish Jeremy the best with his new team."] I didn't have any negative feelings toward my teammates. But during the game, in the back of my head, all I was thinking was: Get better for next season. Heal up. Heal up. Heal up. I wanted to put the injury behind me, get back on the field and move on.
It was over for me in New York after that.
I'm proud of what I accomplished there. I'll miss the city. And I think the Giants handled this whole thing correctly. They did what was best for both sides. I would have just kept being a distraction. The Giants got a great deal. But the Saints got a better deal.
But that's not what I'm thinking about right now. I want the talk to be over. It's really just time to start playing. I'm a now kinda guy. And right now I'm trying to write my life's next chapter in New Orleans, and I have visions of the second half of my career being better than the first part in New York -- much better.
The transition has been easy. I love this city. There's just a different vibe here. After training camp, in Jackson, Miss., I came back to New Orleans and went out with some teammates, and right away it was good to be able to say, "Yeah, I'm home. This is home." Every time you go out, you meet all different kinds of people. Everyone's got their collar loosened up, everyone's nice, and hey, they've got alcohol as the social lubricant of their society. This is what I wanted when I decided to get traded. I mean, no one even messes with you at all when you sit down to have some lunch and a few beers.
I came into camp like a free agent or a walk-on, like I have something to prove. See, I've never had an injury like this before in my life. Look at the scars. That's where a really smart teammate of mine fell into my leg. That's where I keep all my bling now: on the inside of my skin. I never would have thought I could get injured like this. It's hard, I'm not gonna lie. The days feel like weeks when you can't go out and play. It's a long, painful, mentally challenging process coming back from an injury.
This move is all about setting up the second half of my career and getting back to playing well again. It's about being part of a whole season -- without blowing out the whole side of my leg. You know? The dream would be playing in Tampa in the Super Bowl: different team, same results.
You gotta like the chance I've been offered. I'm in an offense like Sean Payton's? That's a gift, man. I'm playing with guys like Reggie Bush and a quarterback like Drew Brees? That's a pleasure, man.
Drew is such a high-energy guy. That's different from what I'm used to. Eli Manning is a great guy. He was just built differently. Drew's very talkative, very active, very vocal. You can bulls -- a lot of people. But at the end of the day, you can't bulls--- yourself. So you want someone to be brutally honest with you all the time. That's Drew. And he never messes up. I mean, the guy is like a machine. He's a hard-working, professional guy -- everyone here is. It's like working for IBM.
I've imagined for so long all the different plays and scenarios and scenes of this season. I just decided to go with it and treat every day as a joy. And we're gonna win a lot of games together and give this city something to cheer about. I know we've got at least one hurricane headed this way, and that means people will be going through tough times again. Boarding up. Getting on buses. Moving out.
It's something I can relate to in my own life. A storm comes, you relocate, and no matter where you end up, you work hard, learn to have fun again and live your life. Ultimately it's about moving on, healing up and getting the job done.
No matter where you land.
David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. Hit up his online archives here.