Randall Cunningham - Lay It Down: How Letting Go Brings Out Your Best

Disappointment is the gap between expectation and reality.

JOHN MAXWELL

I n 1996 I quit football. I'd been with the Philadelphia Eagles for a number of years, but I was done. I never wanted to play football again.

Though I look back now with fondness on my time in Philadelphia, most sports analysts would say it was an eleven-year roller-coaster rideso much good, so much of the unexpected, and even times when we experienced the unthinkable. For the most part those years allowed me to get into contact with who I was supposed to be as a man in this life. But the later years actually allowed my joy and love of football to depart from me. It was humbling to realize that I was no longer wanted as a starting quarterback when no one invited me to join them for the 1996 season.

So I returned to Las Vegas, the city of my alma mater, the University of Nevada, Las Vegas (UNLV), and started my own tile businessCustom Marble and Granite Accessories. For a year I worked with my laborers, experiencing the rigors of real life on my hands and knees, cutting rock and making marble and granite countertops. It was a rewarding experience. I loved handling the raw materials and observing how they took shape during the refining process. I grew to understand contentment during that year away from the game I had loved. I learned to take nothing for granted, to cherish all the little moments of life as much as the big moments.

But many people kept asking me, Hey, Randall, when are you coming back? I felt a prompting to seek God's will for what was next in my life. I was content to keep at the tile business. But did God want me to get back into the game?

To be honest, I didn't want to play football anymore. So I prayed very specifically that God would make it clear if he wanted me to go back to the NFL: Lord, I don't know if I'm supposed to play, but whatever your will isI'm ready for it. If you want me out there, God, you're going to compel teams to call me. I'll go back if you want me to go backbut if you leave it up to me, God, I'm not going back.

The calls started coming. First Jeff Fisher, who was then coaching the Tennessee Titans. Then Mike Ditka in New Orleans.

I dropped down on my knees. Okay, God. I see that you want me to go back. I'm not sure why you want me there, but I'll go because you want it to happen. I'll go back, not because I want to, not because I want a Super Bowl ring; I'll go back to see what it is you want me to do.

I received clear direction from God to go back into football, and I signed with the Minnesota Vikings. I was there to back up Brad Johnson, but in my second year playing with the Vikings I received my shot to be a starting quarterback once again. Brad fractured his right leg in the second game of the 1998 season against St. Louis. I came into the game and threw the winning touchdown. The scoreboard read 3831. Victory!

We lost only one game the whole regular season.

What a whirlwind. There I was, a thirty-five-year-old, once-retired, backup quarterback, slinging bombs down the field to rookie Randy Moss, who would become one of the best receivers of all time. I ended up receiving league MVP honors and had the best year of my career. I threw for 34 touchdowns and only had 10 interceptions. My passer rating was 106, which was a Minnesota Vikings record. Our offense set the single-season scoring record with 556 points scored. (That record stood until the Patriots broke it in 2007, scoring 589 points withguess who?Randy Moss. I was not surprised.)

In the world of football, it was a great year. And for me personally? I called it a blessed year.

But the season ended in disappointment. There we were, the highest-scoring offense in the history of the game, watching Morten Andersen, placekicker for the Atlanta Falcons, dash our Super Bowl dreams with an overtime field goal in the NFC championship game. It was a crushing blow for a football player.

Prior to the end of that season I'd been rewarded for my offensive performance with a five-year, $30.5-million contract, even though I told the Vikings I only wanted to play one more year. But after the season, things began changing on the team, beginning with the loss of our offensive coordinator, Brian Billick, who took the head coaching job with the Baltimore Ravens. He was the brains behind our offense.

The Vikings headed into the 1999 season with a new offensive coordinator, Chip Myers, who had been promoted from wide receivers coach after Billick's departure. Things were going as normal until Chip died unexpectedly of a heart attack right before the season. We didn't know what was going to happen after that. We were mourning the death of a great coach and friend. We didn't know who the offensive coordinator was going to be. We scored points, but not like we had in the past. Overall, we weren't firing on all cylinders. We struggled.

The NFL is a What have you done for me lately? league. It only took until halftime of the fifth game of the season for Coach Denny Green to bench me. Near the end of the season, however, they asked me to start again, but with a pay cut. Nine months after receiving a thirty-million-dollar contract they wanted me to willingly give up some of it. I said, Thank you, but no. I'm going to honor my contract. I was due one million dollars after the season, which they paid me. But then they released me.

Then the Dallas Cowboys picked me up for the 2000 season. Jerry Jones said, Randall, you don't have to worry about being the starting quarterback. We have Troy [Aikman]. So I thought I was headed to the Dallas Cowboys to back up Troy. This was around the time when Troy endured a string of concussions. They wanted someone ready in case he received another one. I was happy to oblige.

I was a Dallas Cowboythe Super Bowlwinning Dallas Cowboys. I thought, I'm backing up Troy Aikman and I'm a teammate of Emmitt Smith, Darren Woodson, and Rocket Ismail. I could not have planned it any better.

Then the unthinkable happened: Troy received another concussion. I replaced him. Now I was really living the dream, right? Wrong. Almost immediately I pulled my hip flexor and was out. That was the extent of my shining career as a Dallas Cowboy: a 12 record, 849 passing yards, 6 touchdowns to 4 interceptions.