Siragusa - Goose: the outrageous life and times of a football guy

Copyright 2012 by Tony Siragusa

All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown Archetype,
an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

www.crownpublishing.com

Crown Archetype with colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

eISBN: 978-0-307-98564-4

Jacket design by Nupoor Gordon
Jacket photographs by Scott McDermott

v3.1

To all the people who told me I couldnt do it.

W ith apologies to Dickens, the third weekend in April 1990 was the best of times and it was the worst of times. One of the most improbable stories in the NFLmy storygoes back to April 2223, 1990, the weekend of the NFL draft that year: two days of hell for me and my family. My beautiful mother, Rosemarie, invited the whole world to our little house in Kenilworth, New Jersey, to watch the draft.

And watch. And watch. And watch.

All twelve rounds of it. Minute after minute, my mom, my brothers Pete and Elio, and my then-girlfriend and now-wife Kathy (shes been with me since high school) were watching as player after player got picked. Twelve rounds and 331 players, including seven of my teammates from the University of Pittsburgh who were selected. But not me. These days, the NFL has only seven rounds for the draft, and its a struggle to make the league if youre undrafted. These days you might have two guys on the fifty-three-man roster each year who were undrafted. So think about it: back when I was coming out of Pitt, the league was taking like five rounds of guys who today would have a hard time getting draftedand I still didnt get taken.

This was like being the last kid picked on the playground. You know when you divide up teams and that last guy is there and the best guy says, Whatever, well take him? Thats what my NFL draft weekend was like for me. I had been here before. Growing up, I was good in football, wrestling, and baseball. I was a good all-around athlete. Good, but not great. I wasnt like The Natural when I was seven years old, like some of these guys. I was always bigger and stronger than most kids, so people thought I was older than I actually was. People would say, Oh, you must be twelve. Im like, No, Im nine. I also used to hang out with older kids because of my older brother Pete. And I also acted older. I didnt back down from anybody, even when I got my ass kicked. Id tell off the older kids, maybe flip them off. Theyd chase me down, theyd beat me up, and then Id tell them off again. I was a real smart-ass.

Anyway, when I was twelve, I was playing Little League baseball and they picked the all-star team. It came down to the last cut, and I didnt make it. I was the first alternate or whatever they call it. So I walked home the whole way from the field along the railroad tracks that went by my house, crying my eyes out. Im pissed, Im embarrassed, Im hurt, the whole thing. It was like that spark that we all get in our gut when we think nobody wants us. This burning desire goes off in you. At least it did with me. This was the first kind of defining moment for me. I got home, and we had a little pool in the back, so I washed my face off and then went inside. I never told my mom what happened. Then the coaches called up a few days later and told me, Oh, this kid got hurt, youre in, we need you. I thought to myself, These SOBs didnt pick me, okay, Ill show them. I knew the other kids werent as good as me, so I had to go prove it.

Now, part of my problem up to then was that I was always thinking too much, being too careful. I was actually terrified to swing the bat. I dont really know why. I wasnt scared of the ball. I think I was just scared that I wouldnt be perfect. I didnt want to disappoint anyone; I thought, Let me just get a walk and Ill be fine. My mother used to yell from the stands all the time, Swing the bat! Well, it turns out thats probably why I didnt get picked in the first place, and now I had to show these guys I was actually good enough, that I was actually better than everybody else. So in the second game we played, we had the bases loaded with two outs in the bottom of the last inning. The kid who was supposed to bat was having a horrible time. He had some problem, and he was like crying or something, and his mother was coming around going, Honey, is something wrong? Are you okay, sweetie? The problem was, he was kind of a mamas boy, a pussy. Anyway, the coach looked at me and said, Goose, youre up next. I was like, Holy crap, this is great. I get the helmet, Im looking for my batIm all jacked up. Before, I was a little scared to swing for whatever reason. Now, as I go up to the plate, Im deciding Ill swing as hard as I can at the first pitch: Im going to kill this ball. I get up there, the pitcher winds up, and I just remember how slow he seemed to bring the ball. He threw, and I think I probably closed my eyes and swung.

Its like this awesome dream. There was this two-story building just past the right-field fence. Its still there if you drive through town. When we were kids, that building was mythic. My brothers friends used to talk about how nobody could ever hit the ball over that building. It was kind of like in that movie The Sandlothow they talk about what its like to hit the ball into the junkyard in center field. Anyway, as the ball was coming, the moment was like something from a movie for me. Really, if the pitcher had thrown the ball over the backstop, I would have swung anyway, thats how determined I was. I swung as hard as I could, and bam! I hit the ball. The ball cleared the building for a grand slam: the ultimate scenario. I remember coming around the bases and everybody was jacked up and excited. All the way around, Im thinking, These assholes didnt want to pick me. I can remember all the players and the coaches standing there at home plate as I turned third base and headed home. And thats when I knew I could do this. Its funny to think sometimes, what would have happened if I struck out? Would that one moment have completely changed me? Right then and there, that became the theme for my life. I know I can do this.

Ten years later, its all happening again as I wait for a chance to play in the NFL. To add a nice kick in the teeth, add the misery of practically every person in my family and every person in town stopping by at one time or another to look in on whats going on. After a while, people dont even ask, Did he get drafted yet? They come in, give that little pathetic smile like they dont know what to say, and kind of move on. My mother is making macaroni the whole weekend and putting on a brave face, saying, Dont worry about him, hes going to be okay.

I even get a call from Jimmy Johnson in the middle of the whole thing. Jimmy, who I work with at FOX now, was coaching at Dallas, but I knew him from way before that. Jimmy was coaching at the University of Miami when I was in high school, and he recruited me. Thats a whole nother story Ill get into later. Anyway, he calls me and says, Hey, whats going on?like I somehow have some answer for why Im not getting drafted. I answer, Nothing, whats going on with you? What am I supposed to say?