HENDERSONVILLE, Tenn. — I was sitting on the floor in our Knoxville apartment, my seven-month-old son at my side, watching the final rounds of the 2009 NFL Draft. My anxiety level was rising with every pick.
When my wife, Kesha, had become pregnant with RJ during my junior year at the University of Tennessee, I promised her I would provide for our family. It’s a vow that added motivation to my training, inspired me to work harder at my craft. And, of course, added to that anxiety.
Every prospect endures stress in the months leading up to draft weekend. With me, it was about more than just where I might land. While training for the NFL Combine, my son was diagnosed with a heart condition. Imagine walking into a Nashville hospital and seeing your first-born stretched out on a table recovering from heart surgery -- tubes in his stomach, hoses up his nose. Picture a young mother sitting there, worrying how we were going to make it. This was our life.
On the final day of the draft, Kesha had left our apartment for the afternoon. It was just me and little RJ in front of the television.
From the time I had become good enough to play SEC football, I dreamed of this day, fantasized about hearing my name called. I thought I might go between the third and fifth rounds, but as the draft neared its conclusion, my fears escalated. What was going on? What happened to those NFL teams that had assured us that I was on their draft boards?
As the last pick, No. 256 overall, was called, my head dropped. It was April 26, 2009, and for the first time as an adult, I cried.
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I've always had a love-hate relationship with the NFL Draft. “The season of lies.” That’s what my Nashville sports-talk co-host Jason Martin calls it.
With another draft set to begin April 29, I wanted to share my story with the readers here at DK Pittsburgh Sports. I know what a lot of these kids are experiencing this week. I know the sacrifices they have made to put themselves in a position to be selected.
In fact, I got a taste of it before I even went through the process. My brother, Renardo Foster, an offensive tackle out of the University of Louisville, had gone undrafted in 2007. To his credit, he played 17 games with the Falcons and Rams, while also spending time on NFL practice squads. So, I realized hard work and persistence could get you to the league without hearing your name called.
Still, I wanted to be drafted.
It’s why I trained all of those days in college. It’s why I gave up so much of my free time. It's why I kept my grades up and stayed eligible at Tennessee, just to be able to ball every fall from 2004 to 2008. I believed I had the skillset to become an NFL offensive lineman.
My desires were fuel-injected in the spring of 2008 as my college roommate, linebacker Jerod Mayo, went 10th overall to the Patriots. That set the bar for many of us in the Volunteers’ program. We all had come to Tennessee in the same recruiting class, and we all spoke of being drafted. Another college roommate, defensive lineman Robert Ayers, also was gaining lots of attention. His name was constantly mentioned in 2009 mock drafts. He ended up going to the Broncos at No. 18 overall.
I was honest with myself. I knew I wasn’t first-round material. I just wanted to be one of the 256 — one of the chosen.
That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
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About that “season of lies” observation: Every football analyst, podcaster and radio show host has a mock draft and a breakdown of all the prospects. There’s tons of information and misinformation available for football fans to consume. Teams aren’t going tip their hands. It’s one big poker tournament complete with the bluffs.
Then, comes the event itself. Some players get taken higher than projected. Nobody has access to the other teams’ boards and preferences. Draft days require a lot of quick thinking. Maybe, I was on somebody’s board in the fifth round, but suddenly that team can take a player who fills a bigger need. It’s how guys sometimes keep falling and falling.
I learned about these vagaries after the fact. They are hard and humbling lessons:
RAMON FOSTER / DKPS
The Steelers' original scouting form in advance of the 2009 NFL Draft.
But nobody is going to feel sorry for you after the last name is read and yours hasn’t been called. You got to pull yourself up and get to work. As Mike Tomlin always says, “No one cares about your problems, or they’re glad you have them.”
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Going undrafted is a scar that hasn’t fully healed. Still. It stuck with me over the years. I made it personal every time I played against someone who was selected ahead of me.
I think back to those minutes after the draft, sitting in that room with my son. I had to find a way to provide. Kesha had taken a year off from college, where she was pursuing a degree in finance. Fortunately, she had found a job and was working, but I knew the pressure was mounting to fulfill my pledge.
My agent started getting calls from teams around the NFL. They wanted to make me a priority free agent. My first response was, “Where were they during the draft?” I had a boulder on my shoulder.
I decided to sign with the Steelers. When I arrived on the South Side in 2009, a couple of coaches and scouts told me they had third- to fifth-round grades on me. I’m not sure if that made me feel better or worse.
All I know for sure is this: I played 11 NFL seasons, all with the Steelers, and reached a Super Bowl.
You know, the 256th and final pick in that 2009 draft, kicker Ryan Succop, is still in the league. In fact, ole Mr. Irrelevant just got his hands on that Sticky Lombardi with the Buccaneers. And Arian Foster, a four-time Pro Bowl running back, went undrafted. Just like me. So did three-time Pro Bowl defensive lineman and Super Bowl champ Michael Bennett.
So, yeah, I have a love-hate relationship with the draft, but you know darned well I’ll be watching next week, probably reliving some emotions.
The player you want your team to select might be a one-year wonder, while others who never heard their names called might contribute for the long haul. It’s all a matter of hard work, luck and blessings from above.
Much love to all the players and their families who realize their dreams on draft night. My journey was my journey, and I wouldn’t change anything.
Well, except for maybe getting my hands on some of that top-10 signing money.
