Pete Kendall- Destroyer of Dreams by Ross Tucker

check this...you might hate pete even more after u read it..

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/writers/peter_king/09/02/tucker/index.html


The final cut

The press release below, was one of scores issued by NFL teams in the past week, when all 32 clubs had two cutdown dates -- last Tuesday, cutting to 75, and Saturday, the final cut to 53.

Washington Redskins Reach Mandatory Roster Limit Ashburn, Va. -- The Washington Redskins announce today they have reached the mandatory roster limit of 75 players by releasing defensive tackle Joe Salave'a, placing offensive lineman Ross Tucker and wide receiver Jason McAddley on injured reserve, and waiving injured fullback Pete Schmitt.

Each team brings 80 players to camp, more in some cases with roster exemptions for NFL Europa players. By Saturday night at least 27 players per team had to be whacked from the July rosters ... players who came to camp with such high hopes, players who left their small towns and big cities six weeks ago, heads high, fired up about playing on the biggest football stage on Earth. That's 864 dreams, give or take a few, crushed. This is the story of one of them.

Before training camp, I had asked Tucker, a veteran offensive lineman, to keep some notes and to write something for Monday Morning Quarterback if the Redskins let him go. "It's one of the things we never get a good view of,'' I told him, "and you're smart enough to convey the true feelings of what a player goes through when he's cut.''

Tucker, a Princeton guy, is a 6-foot-4, 305-pound veteran of six NFL seasons. He started 24 games, mostly for Buffalo, in a career that also included appearances for Washington and Dallas, with camp stops in New England and Cleveland. Though technically it was only Tucker's 2007 season that ended when he was put on injured-reserve last Tuesday, you'll see that it was much more.

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By Ross Tucker

I knew instantly what was happening when my cell phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket.

"703"

The only number I know with a 703 area code is the offices of the Washington Redskins. So when I saw the "703," I got sick to my stomach. It took my breath away, literally. I got the call last Monday at 5:30 p.m., while waiting to pay for my sandwich at a Subway restaurant in Ashburn, Va. I didn't answer the call because I was about to pay, and besides, I already knew what the phone call meant. I can only imagine how pale my face looked as I paid for my sub and walked out.

After 18 years of football, the last seven of which were in the NFL, my dream was likely over. Even though I knew it was probably going to happen at some point this week, like most of the 900 or so players in my shoes in the last week also facing the death of their dreams, my heart still told me I had a chance to make the team.

I never thought the end would come like this -- with me holding the end of my life's passion in one hand and a foot long Italian sub on wheat in the other.

I could almost predict word for word what the message would say because I had heard it all before. "Ross,'' the voice said, "This is Louis Riddick with the Redskins. Please call me as soon as you get this message."

Riddick is the director of pro personnel for the Redskins and a former player. Most fans who dream of being a GM or working for an NFL team as a scout or coach never think about how hard that part of the job must be. You pick up the phone and shatter dreams with every call you make.

I called Louis back as I made my way toward Redskin Park for the inevitable and he said, "Ross, we have to make some cuts today. Can you come over to the park?"

"Yeah, sure," I said. "Should I bring my playbook?"

"Yep."

After picking up my playbook at the hotel where the "bubble" guys who don't have residences in the area stay, I felt like everything I had done since March 8 when I signed with the 'Skins was for nothing. I quickly shook that thought off and reminded myself what this was really about. It was about me giving it everything I had every day and playing to the best of my God-given ability. It was about being able to walk away from the game with no regrets and the feeling of peace and contentment that comes only when you know you did your best.

I couldn't help but think about the whirlwind training camp had been. The first week I was third-string center, got very few repetitions and was often left wondering if I was an afterthought. The second week I was moved to second-string right guard and had one of the best weeks of practice in my career. The third week I was back to center, this time at second-string when they moved Mike Pucillo into the starting lineup at left guard. Things changed in the fourth week, on Aug. 23. As I sat in my happy place, the team hot tub, getting loosened up for the day, I was struck with some news that hit me like a bolt of lightning. Taylor Whitley, another veteran lineman battling for a roster spot, was the bearer of this news.

"Did you hear?" said Whitley.

"No, what?" I said.

"We traded for Pete Kendall from the Jets."

"Oh, man, that's not good."

I knew immediately I might be in trouble. Kendall would be the starting left guard, Pucillo would be the back-up interior guy, and I would be competing with a whole bunch of guys for probably the ninth and final offensive line roster spot.

They tell you to never look at the number of guys at your position or to not worry about who they sign and to just focus on playing your best. Yeah, right. Every time I hear a player say, "I don't worry about any of that, I just do the best that I can,'' I chuckle. Although all of us block those thoughts out when we are on the field and simply compete as hard as we can, I find it very hard to believe that those guys never think in bed at night what may happen or what the coaches might do.

I was very much looking forward to our third preseason game against the Baltimore Ravens because I anticipated getting a lot of playing time and wanted to give the coaches an indication of what I could do. I made sure my immediate family was at the game because I knew they wouldn't make it down to Jacksonville for the final preseason game.

One of my wife Kara's best friends from college was getting married that same day and Kara was torn as to what she should do. "Kara," I said, "You really need to come to this game. It very well could be the last time you ever see me play."

It was a strange night, to say the least, and most certainly not how I envisioned my last football game. First, the game was delayed for over an hour due to lightning and thunder. Then, I surprisingly got a "stinger" during pre-game warm-ups when I hit 330-pound Samoan defensive lineman Joe Salave'a head to head. A "stinger" occurs when you pinch a nerve in your neck upon contact and it is a numbing, painful, tingling sensation that shoots down your neck toward your shoulder and sometimes even goes all the way down your arm into your fingers. Kind of like hitting your funny bone, only it's in your neck -- and it is no laughing matter. It usually lasts a couple of seconds. It is a somewhat common football injury and not usually a cause for concern.

It was in the back of my mind, however, as I lined up for my first action of the night as the "wedge-setter'' on the kickoff-return team. The collisions between the wedge and the wedge breakers are some of the most vicious in football, and it takes a special person to want to perform these duties. And I don't mean "special" in a good way, either. You have to either crave physical contact, be a little crazy, or maybe a combination of both. I looked at No. 54 for the Ravens, a rookie linebacker from Michigan named Prescott Burgess, and knew he was my likely target. As always, there was a little fear, but that fear is a good thing. I have always tried to harness that fear and use it to my advantage. Someone is going to get the better of the collision, and you are either the hitter or the hittee.

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