Terry Crews - Tough: My Journey to True Power

In December 2004, my wife Rebecca and I went out to celebrate. Everything in our life felt like it was finally coming together. After raising four beautiful girls, she had just found out she was pregnant with our fifth, my son Isaiah, who would be born seven months later. After I struggled for years to get by, first in the NFL and then in Hollywood, my career was finally taking off. I was hot off my breakout performances in White Chicks and Friday after Next, and Adam Sandler had cast me in his new comedy, a remake of the Burt Reynolds movie The Longest Yard. Since it was a football movie, and I was one of the few former pro football players working in Hollywood, it was a perfect fit. Hed even rewritten one of the characters to make sure he could get me in the film.

During the films shoot in Santa Fe, New Mexico, I got to know Chris Rock, who was costarring. One afternoon he and I were hanging out and he started asking me a bunch of questions about being a husband and a dad. By the end of the day, he was saying, Terry, Ive got something for you. I cant tell you about it now, but Ive got it. Just wait for it. That something was the pilot script for his new show, Everybody Hates Chris. He wanted me to play the father: a lead role in a network sitcom.

I didnt think life could get any better. The last stretch of filming on The Longest Yard took place back in LA, and because everything was going so well, I decided to take Rebecca out for a big celebratory dinner. We drove down to Colorado Boulevard, the big commercial strip in Pasadena, and ended up at a Spanish tapas place with live music. The restaurant wasnt even that fancy, but just being able to enjoy a night out and order steak without looking at the prices on the menu felt like a luxury compared with where wed been only a year before. It was a perfect night, until I ruined itand very nearly destroyed everything we had.

By the time we finished eating, it was already dark out. The sidewalks were packed with shoppers out getting ready for Christmas, and as we waited for our car at the valet parking kiosk, three black dudes came up. At the time, I wasnt really famous. Or, more accurately, I was famous only to black people. All the white folks out to dinner in Pasadena had no idea who I was. But these three dudes were like, Hey, man! Its that nigga from Friday. Its Damon. Right there, man. The dude from White Chicks! Hey, man, lemme get an autograph and shit.

They were being loud and belligerent, and they were clearly drunk, or high. So I figured Id make them happy and keep it moving. Sure, I said. You got a pen?

Then this shit-faced dude turned to my wifemy pregnant wifeand he popped her in the arm, like a little shove. Hey! You aint got no pen and shit?

Okay, buddy, I said, pushing him back. Thats it. Back it up.

Aw, fuck you, nigga! he yelled. You aint shit! You aint shit!

Then he took a swing, and it was over. I saw red. I picked him up and slammed him on the concrete, and then I went at him. I stomped this dude like Nino Brown. I could feel the adrenaline surging through my body, a feeling I knew all too well from my days tackling 250-pound guys in pro football. When you get there, theres no reason, no thought process. Its pure sensation. You become hyperaware of light and sound, and you cant feel any pain and theres no stopping you. You just go.

The whole thing was a violent blur. Knowing my wife was pregnant, I was ready to kill anyone who was a threat to her. I was wearing a red sports coat, and Rebecca later said, All I saw was this red sports coat flying around like Superman. After the one dude went down, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other guys looking for a cheap shot at me, so I turned my attention to them and yelled, Whos next? These two idiots looked down at their friend and then looked at each other and were like, Uh... maybe not.

But the real idiot was me. Because on Saturday nights in Pasadena the cops are out. Seconds later I heard it. Whoop-whoop! A police car pulled over, and the officers got out. They looked nervous, itchy, hands on their guns, telling me to freeze and the whole routine. I put my hands up, trying to explain, No, look. You dont understand. He grabbed my wife. Then Rebecca stepped in and started with the officer, saying it wasnt my fault, but this cop didnt want to hear anything we had to say. I was going to jail. He walked over, taking his cuffs out, and he was pulling my arms back behind me when this old white man walked up, waving his arms and saying, No, no, no! I saw the whole thing, officer! This man was with his wife and this guy was bothering them. This man was protecting his wife. Youve got the wrong guy.

It was literally one white guy telling another white guy, No! Youre arresting the wrong Negro! Its the other Negro! But you know what? Thank God he did. If Id been arrested that night, I would have gone to prison, and everything would have been over. But thanks to the word of one old white man, the cop decided to let me go. We thanked the old white guy, got our car from the valet, went on to the wrap party with Adam Sandler and Chris Rock, and played the whole thing off like a funny Isnt this crazy? anecdote for the rest of the night.