On December 10, 2007, Michael Vick walked into a federal courthouse in Richmond, Virginia, chewing gum and wearing crisp white Nike Air Force 1 Mids, which matched the stripes on his prison outfit.
He was there to be sentenced for his role in a brutal dogfighting ring, which had cost him his $100 million NFL contract, his record contract with Nike and, most importantly, his freedom. He appeared with at least some measure of defiance – even disbelief – when he should have, at least for practical purposes, been trying to project remorse and responsibility.
Federal prosecutors would soon expose not only Vick’s crimes in running Bad Newz Kennels, but also a list of senseless violations. After he had pleaded guilty and knew all eyes were on him.
While awaiting sentencing, the government argued to Judge Henry E. Hudson that Vick did not fully admit to some of his actions, engaged in deceptive practices to cover up others, and even smoked pot. marijuana just one night before a scheduled test, which would definitely be the case. , stop him.
Even his own friends and family present, who considered any incarceration unnecessary, could only shake their heads. Disappointment hung in the air. It was a self-inflicted thing. All that potential was about to be transported to Leavenworth.
Vick had arrived that day and faced a sentence of 12 to 18 months, with speculation he would get the minimum due to his lack of criminal record. If that were the case, he could have been out in a little over 10 months and returned to the NFL shortly after. Instead, his actions and attitude increased the prison sentence to 18-24 months.
Vick ended up with 23, more than any of his co-defendants, many of whom had priors. The police quickly took him out, handcuffed, on his way to being put in a cage. His family just cried. This, they swore, was not him, this was not Mike.
“I’m willing to say that if Michael Vick had another chance, whether in society or in the NFL,” his lawyer, Billy Martin, said that day, “he would take full advantage of it.”
Seventeen December later, in the same Virginia where he grew up, where he electrified ball fields from Newport News to Blacksburg and where he was convicted, Michael Vick kept his lawyer’s promise with a new title.
Coach.
Norfolk State reportedly hired Vick, now 44, to lead its football program, located just a half-hour drive from his hometown.
It’s the final chapter in a powerful story of redemption that had already seen Vick come to terms with his actions, honor his debt to society, return triumphantly to the NFL and act as a powerful spokesperson for animal rights. He went from vilified villain to role model and leader.
And it’s not done.
The Vick who stood in that courtroom, who seemingly seemed as untouchable off the field as the quarterback who ran through the Green Bay Packers on a cold playoff night in Lambeau, is long gone . The new man is here to prove himself once again.
Will Michael Vick win a lot of games as a college football coach? Nobody knows.
What seems certain is that his players will benefit from the lessons he can impart on the roller coaster of American soccer life. The good one. The bad one. The ugly one. From rise to scandal to a slow, hard-fought comeback.
There is no denying the cruelty Vick showed to his dogs. Nor should we ignore the shock of someone in the midst of a brilliant career embarking on such a sad and twisted pursuit.
What Vick proved, however, was that no one, at least in all but the most reprehensible cases, should be fully defined by their worst moment. In reality, they may have the most to give.
His return from seven seasons after his incarceration in the NFL – including five as a starter for the Philadelphia Eagles – was quite encouraging.
However, athletes tend to get vaccinated. If you know how to play, someone will always apologize to you.
What Vick did with this opportunity was something more. It wasn’t just his return to form – or anything close enough to his days in Atlanta.
It was his professionalism, work ethic and humility that won over the locker room and coaches, including Andy Reid and Mike Tomlin. Teammates not only saw someone who could score touchdowns, but someone who could be trusted.
He was on the brink. He had come back.
This is the Vick who devoted himself to charity after his career ended in 2015; a constant, especially at his former Boys and Girls Club in Newport News. He worked as a broadcaster for Fox Sports, but wanted to do more because he thought he could offer more.
So now he’s a coach, following Deion Sanders (Jackson State) and Eddie George (Tennessee State) as an NFL great at the helm of an HBCU.
All these years after one of American sports’ greatest falls from grace hit rock bottom, Michael Vick continued one of his greatest comebacks, a life of atonement for all to see.
Coach Vick, at Norfolk State, where he belongs.
