I grew up poor - living in the projects with six brothers, three sisters, a varying assortment of foster kids, my father, and a wonderful mother, Scarlette Hunley. We had little money and few worldly goods, but plenty of love and attention. I was happy and energetic. I understood that no matter how poor a person was, they could still afford a dream.
My dream was athletics. By the time I was sixteen, I could crush a baseball, throw a ninety-mile-per-hour fastball and hit anything that moved on the football field. I was also lucky: My high-school coach was Ollie Jarvis, who not only believed in me, but taught me how to believe in myself. He taught me the difference between having a dream and showing conviction. One particular incident with Coach Jarvis changed my life forever.
It was the summer between my junior and senior years, and a friend recommended me for a summer job. This meant a chance for money in my pocket - cash for dates with girls, certainly, money for a new bike and new clothes, and the start of savings for a house for my mother. The prospect of a summer job was enticing, and I wanted to jump at the opportunity.
Then I realized I would have to give up summer baseball to handle the work schedule, and that meant I would have to tell Coach Jarvis I wouldn"t be playing. I was dreading this, spurring myself with the advice my mother preached to us: "If you make your bed, you have to lie in it."
When I told Coach Jarvis, he was as mad as I expected him to be. "You have your whole life to work," he said. "Your playing days are limited. You can"t afford to waste them."
I stood before him with my head hanging, trying to think of the words that would explain to him why my dream of buying my mom a house and having money in my pocket was worth facing his disappointment in me.
"How much are you going to make at this job, son?" he demanded.
"Three twenty-five an hour," I replied.
"Well," he asked, "is $3.25 an hour the price of a dream?"
That question, the plainness of it, laid bare for me the difference between wanting something right now and having a goal. I dedicated myself to sports that summer, and within the year I was drafted by the Pittsburgh Pirates to play rookie-league ball, and offered a $20,000 contract. I already had a football scholarship to the University of Arizona, which led me to an education, two consensus selections as All-American linebacker and being chosen seventh overall in the first round of the NFL draft. I signed with the Denver Broncos in 1984 for $1.7 million, and bought my mother the house of my dreams.