Despite the passage of more than a decade, I have no difficulty remembering just how entranced we were with Vince Young. This 6’5“, 230-pound athletic specimen had taken control of the quarterback position at the University of Texas early in the 2004 season. Passing was a bit touch-and-go at first, but his ability to run the ball, operate the Longhorns’ read-option offense and win games were something to behold. He was fast, he was elusive, and he frightened all but the biggest defensive players. In addition to his physical talents, Young was a leader. Every member of the football team believed in him and followed him. You can include the coaches in that. And the entire UT athletic department. And the student body. And the alumni. I’m telling you, we were crazy about Vince.
Young sought to lift the orange and white to the top of the college football world, and he did no less. Here is a dry recitation of his three years in Austin: He completed 444 out of 718 passes for 6,040 yards and 44 touchdowns, and he carried the ball 457 times for 3,127 yards (a 6.8-yard average) and 37 touchdowns. The 2005 Rose Bowl (which concluded the 2004 season) was a thrilling 38-37 defeat of the University of Michigan. Time and time again in the second half, Young in effect said to the Wolverines, “Stop me if you can.” He would take the snap, often from the shotgun formation. Maybe he would hand off to running back Cedric Benson, maybe he would throw to tight ends Bo Scaife or David Thomas, but most likely he would fake and keep it himself. UM could do nothing to slow Young down. He finished as offensive MVP for the No. 5 Horns.
What did he tell his teammates at the start of the next season? “Hey, y’all, 2004 is over!” That is, he said let’s not rest on our laurels. Never has an athlete been more true to his words. Young led—truly led—the Longhorns to a 12-0 record and another victory in the Rose Bowl. Their victim this time was the University of Southern California. Pete Carroll’s team had won the last two national championships and fully intended to make it three. They were loaded with all-Americans, but they had not seen anything like No. 10. His greatness was in full bloom that night in Pasadena as he powered UT to a 41-38 victory. The most dramatic moment came with 26 seconds to play. Texas was at the USC eight-yard line, fourth-and-five. Young, in the shotgun, took the ball and flew around right end for the score. UT had won not just the Rose Bowl before a huge television audience but its fourth national title—and its first since 1970. It was not just local yokels like me who were hailing Young as the best college QB we had ever seen. Such praise also came from writers at Sports Illustrated and the New York Times, ESPN talking heads and other self-appointed experts.
(At the time, I had an e-mail pen pal in the Philippines named Eden. She knew virtually nothing about American football, but she listened intently as I went on and on about UT’s wondrous quarterback. She heard a lot of praise for Vince. Well, Eden came from a big family. When one of her sisters gave birth to a baby boy, Eden was asked if she had any suggestions for a name. You can guess the rest.)
He was a consensus all-American, second in Heisman Trophy voting and had been on the cover of Sports Illustrated numerous times. But college ball and the NFL are very different things, so there was no guarantee that Young could replicate his staggering success with the Longhorns. Nevertheless, he was chosen third overall by the Tennessee Titans in the 2006 draft. He made some poor decisions off the bat—such as choosing a criminal attorney and family friend as his agent and appointing an uncle as his business manager.
UT's favorite son got an abysmal score on the Wonderlic intelligence test, and critics were not sure his throwing motion was quick enough for the pros; defenses there would figure him out quickly enough. Titans coach Jeff Fisher was never enamored of Young and may have gotten pressure from owner Bud Adams to play him. It appears that Young was immature and unprepared for the intensity of life in the NFL. Did he study film and the playbook as much as he should have? Probably not. Did he hang out with his homies instead of doing everything in his power to ensure a long and fruitful career? Yes. Did he break rules and pout during the inevitable tough times? You bet.
Even so, Young prospered in his first few years with the Titans. He was 2006 NFL offensive rookie of the year and a two-time Pro Bowler, and had an impressive 30-17 record in games he started. But he soon alienated Fisher, Adams and many of his teammates. Cut by the Titans in the summer of 2011, Young signed with the Philadelphia Eagles, played fitfully and was cut. The Buffalo Bills signed him in 2012 and cut him before the season started. Same with the Green Bay Packers in 2013; he was on the roster exactly 25 days. Sinking even further, he hooked up with the Cleveland Browns in 2014 and was gone after 11 days.
The man who had epitomized swagger as a college quarterback could not get a tryout. And compounding his misery, he was in financial trouble. Most of the $34 million he had earned as a football player was gone, along with $30 million in endorsements. (Good heavens! Did he not even think about investing some of this money in blue-chip stocks?) UT came to his rescue, so to speak. Then-president Bill Powers had told Young he could have a job after his playing days, and Young was not too proud to remind him of that promise. A position in the Division of Diversity and Community Engagement was created just for him. A fund-raising, glad-handing kind of job, it pays $100,000 per annum, which is above what a tenured professor would be earning after 20 years, so you can be sure some people grumbled.
I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I am utterly cynical and do not believe for a second that Young does any real work. He talks to students “of color” as they call non-European-Americans and gives them the rah-rah. For better or worse, though, he is still Vince Young. That opens doors. People listen to what he says, regardless of whether it is articulate or wise. And frankly, I assume there was an institutional feeling of debt or gratitude or even guilt for what he had done on the gridiron. Football at the University of Texas is enormously profitable, and who from 2003 to 2005 was more responsible for raking in that cash than VY? We are in an age when people talk freely about the need to pay college athletes, and he had received just room, board and tuition? (Of course, some UT boosters discreetly gave Young money, but a relative pittance compared to the millions he brought in as the Horns’ super-stud quarterback.) Furthermore, we cannot deny the intangible benefits of Texas again being king of the college football world; donations were up, as was enrollment, and there was a positive buzz on campus and all over Austin. Young was the key.
I surmise that the attitude in the UT administration was that with Young’s pro football career having ended ignominiously, he should be given a break. One could say a safety net had been placed under Young so he could not fall too far. He could have some money, some dignity, something to do and much-needed structure in his life. The alternative would have made the university look cold and uncaring. A position in the—I can barely force myself to type the words—Division of Diversity and Community Engagement seemed only fair. It was not long before puffball articles in the Austin American-Statesman, Daily Texan, Austin Chronicle and Alcalde (UT's alumni magazine) lauded him and his efforts. Young deserved the chance to succeed in this non-athletic endeavor.
Busted for drunk driving on January 25, 2016, he kept his job. I would be surprised if he did not try the "do you know who I am?" line on the arresting officers. The mug shot of him in a white-and-black striped Travis County uniform was sad, sad, sad.
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