Faith is Humbling

At the on-set of training camp one season, my roommate and I checked into the team dormitory, then prepared for the first morning session of practice.

It was time for bed. And naturally (or at least I thought it to be natural) I would take the top bunk of our beds.

After all, I was a 6 foot, 180 pound defensive back, while he was a 6 foot 4, 300 pound offensive lineman. Little did I know that my conclusion was wrong. My roommate saw the world much differently than all of us ever did, and I was about to learn just how boundless his vision of the world and himself in it truly were.

Those who were blessed to know my roommate, knew him to be a rambunctious 9 year old boy trapped in the body of a titan gladiator.

To him, the possibilities of just what he could do were endless. He would simply turn himself into whatever he declared to be, at any time. Size and stature were never part of his equation—and this was the comedy of it all; he was much larger than most of us.

When we would play basketball together, he had to be the point guard, and he most often declared himself to be Magic Johnson. And if you were unfortunate enough to have to ride an elevator with him while on the way to training table meals, he would wait for the doors to close, then immediately make that dreaded "Ding-Ding" sound...

It was Round 1, as he lowered his head into your chest and pounded you with upper-cuts and right jabs until the elevator doors opened again. He was "Iron Mike" and he wanted you to feel it. His physical stature made it impossible to escape him.

Often during pre-practices, as I began my warm-up routine, I would watch him take a football and turn himself into a Heisman Trophy candidate—he would run around the field, then stop to make that Heisman pose as if he were the Country's top running back.

Later, as the season evolved, he began turning himself into a character he called, "The Humbler." The Humbler wore a glove on his right hand and walked around waving that hand while introducing himself to the crowd as if he were entering a closed-cage WWF Wrestling match.

The Humber's job was to "humble" you if you posed any challenge to him, or if he perceived that he had been challenged in any way. You were to be physically "humbled" by him, which usually culminated into some form of physical punishment absorbed by those closest to his proximity. Every coach and player on the field had seen The Humbler in action at one time or another. And during some of the most intense practices, The Humbler made his appearance and bought us all back to the smiles and the fun we would sometimes lose sight of.

All it took during practice was for my roomate to make a solid block on an opposing player and you could hear him declare, "The Hummmblahhhh!" Countless times, he made it impossible not to laugh...

So after arguing about our beds that night, he proceeded to hoist himself onto the top bunk before I could get closer to it than he already was. He giggled and smiled, and pretended to be handicapped and not understand my concerns and protests over the matter. He wore me down and continued disarming me with jokes, as I threatened him with what I was going to do to him (kick him as hard as possible) once he fell asleep.

I hesitantly slid into the bottom bunk.

I conceded, and convinced myself that all I had to do was sleep there, and it would be only a matter of hours before we were up and out, and getting our ankles taped for practice.

I got no sleep that first night, while he slept like a baby.

The mesh from the upper bunk he was on seemed to be only inches away from my face. And if I turned to rest on either side I could see the springs holding that mesh that held the mattress being stretched to their breaking points. The tension from his bed was all too real. I remember thinking that if he had just one bad dream, I would pay the price for it. That bed with him in it was less than a bad roll away from crushing me.

...but it never happened...

And so the faith I had in the springs of the bed holding that top bunk with The Humbler in it grew with each night passing. I learned that if I kept the faith that I had in those bed springs, in other areas of my life that really needed it, I could take on and persevere through any challenge posed.

And perhaps I could stare down the nose of each challenge as fearlessly and joyously as my roommate The Humbler always did.

Rest in Power, Frank