My Life on the Line by Ryan O'Callaghan

Author:Ryan O'Callaghan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2019-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: Total Shit Show

As soon as I got to Kansas City, I knew we were in big trouble. While the general manager, the quarterback, a defensive leader, and I had all come from the win-or-else Patriots, the head coach . . . hadn't. Todd Haley had been the offensive coordinator with the Arizona Cardinals, who had managed to have a good run in January and get to the Super Bowl. The Cardinals were never truly great when he was there, but he had been the latest guy dubbed an "offensive genius." So he was brought in by the Chiefs to whip a team that had some trouble moving the ball around the field. It was an exciting time with a lot of hope when I got to Kansas City.

By my second week with the team, however, before I even got to play with them, it was clear we were going nowhere.

It was toward the end of one particular practice and the special teams were on the field doing their thing. In New England, while special teams were working on their game, the offensive line was going through drills. There was no downtime. If you were practicing, you were working. That day with the Chiefs, the guys not on special teams went to the bench and sat down. Relaxed. That told me a lot about the culture of the team I'd just landed on. I knew right then that there wouldn't be a single team we played all season that we had outworked during the week.

It was a reflection of Todd. You hear all the time about "players' coaches." He was a players' coach. He wanted to be one of the guys, he wanted to be liked by the athletes on the team. One of the ways he did that was to say "no homo" a lot. He had gotten it from some Jay-Z song he listened to or some shit like that. Haley was listening to rap music all the time, I guess because that's what he thought would make him more likable with some of the guys on the team.

Todd used "no homo" in meetings, at meals, passing him in the hallway. It was fucked up. As a closeted gay dude in the meetings with him, having to hear that over and over and over cemented the already concrete idea in my head that I could never, ever, ever come out to him or the team.

I was always one of the first players to get to the facility each day—it was the Patriot way. One morning I could feel my truck shake from the booming music of somebody's car pulling up behind me. I figured it was one of the DBs blasting Kid Cudi from his Range Rover. When the car slipped into the parking spot beside me, I saw it was Todd, sitting low in his seat like a gangsta, barely able to see out the windshield. He was trying so hard to fit in with the players.

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