The Legend of Jesse Smoke (45 page)

Was she a hero?

To me, of course she was, and always will be. Okay, she didn’t save any lives; she didn’t rescue anyone or prevent the suffering of others. She didn’t pluck anyone out of a fire or dive into deep water and drag a child to safety; she never took a bullet for anyone. She played a game—a beautiful game, one that approaches all the values of our culture in times of frightful extremity, only without most of the real dangers of life and conflict, the real potential disasters; a game that calls up that little spot of heroism that might just be necessary in real circumstances. It allows us to act like heroes, even when what we are engaged in isn’t really heroic. That is at least part of why the sport—perhaps any sport—is so beautiful.

A week after the Super Bowl, she went into surgery and had a small polyp removed from the back of her ethmoid sinus. It was the cause of all her bleeding episodes and, thank god, it was benign.

She showed up the following year in minicamp, ready to lead the team. The two years she played were some of the most eventful in Redskins history. We went to a second Super Bowl with Jesse at the helm, but in that game she tore up her right knee pretty badly. Both the anterior and posterior ligaments were torn. All of us knew it was a disastrous injury. It didn’t even matter that we lost the game.

Jesse had to sit out a year, and when she tried to come back the following year she just didn’t have the footspeed or strength in her legs to keep playing. She knew it, too. It was one of the most tragic days when she came to me and said she’d have to give up the game.

“I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life,” she said.

“It’s funny you should say that,” I told her. “Because everybody
I
know is thankful they had a chance to play on the same team with you, or, hell, to see you play.” I had tears in my eyes.

Coach Engram and I retired a few years after that. We never made it back to the Super Bowl, but we had some good years. When we hung it up, Dan Wilber, who had retired after Jesse’s first year and got into coaching, took over as head coach and won two Super Bowls on his own.

Jesse was still the most famous woman in the world when I quit coaching, but by that time there were three other women in the league: one defensive end named Alley Howell, (6’ 2", 288 pounds), who played for the Vikings, and two kickers—Justine Brown of the Cardinals and Delia Harmon of the Jets. As for the women’s leagues, they are much more popular now than they ever were before Jesse. All eight of the current women playing in the NFL, as I write this, came from one of the women’s leagues.

I still see Jesse now and again. She and her mother are best of friends now—and when we get together they both like to gang up on me and point out all my faults. As you no doubt know, Jesse’s married to Darius Exley and they have a beautiful little girl they’ve named after Jonathon and me: Jonna Granger Exley. They are both teaching her how to play football and, thanks to Darius, she already has the largest collection of action figures on earth.

Jesse coaches for the Washington Divas, and Darius is with a Washington law firm. Both of them are in the Hall of Fame, and so are Orlando Brown, Drew Bruckner, Talon Jones, and Sean Rice. For sure, Gayle Glenn Louis will be there and I think eventually Rob Anders, and our strong safety Doug Harris will make it too.

All of those guys played for one of the best teams in history and one of the best coaches. No team ever played with more spirit or unity than that first one, though. And that was because of Jesse. What started out as a dreamy sort of halfhearted practical joke turned out to be one of the best things I ever did with my life; the principle reason I am remembered in my profession.

Not long ago, we all got together to celebrate Jonna Exley’s third birthday at their huge Victorian in Potomac, Maryland. Most of the
old gang was there—Darius, of course, Rob Anders, Mickens, and Rice. Doug Harris, Gayle Glenn Louis, Dan Wilber, and Orlando; most of the players were there with their wives and children. Jonathon Engram and his wife showed up a little late. The players cheered. We were all in the backyard on a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon in May. Everybody gathered around a long picnic table covered with a white tablecloth dotted with Redskins insignias. Jesse and Darius had rented a twenty-foot-long canopy that shaded the table.

On that day Jesse and I walked up a slight hill in her yard, some distance from the gathering, and I told her I was going to write this book. She sort of grimaced and turned those blue eyes away from me. We’d just sung happy birthday to Jonna, and the kids were all sitting at the table, devouring cake and ice cream. Jonna had followed Jesse and me up to the top of the hill. “Where’re you going, Mommy?” she said.

Jesse knelt down, licked her fingers, and started wiping cake from Jonna’s mouth. The little one struggled against her. “Mommy,
don’t
.”

“Hold still,” Jesse said, wiping her hand clean in the grass.

“She’s beautiful, Jess.”

“She’s spiky and stubborn is what she is.”

“Inherited.”

Jesse looked up at me. “You really going to write another book about me?”

“Not just about you. About all of us.”

Jonna pushed Jesse’s hands away. “
No
, Mommy.”

Jesse brushed the little girl’s hair back, kissed her on the forehead, and stood up. “Go on,” she said. Jonna ran back down to the table. I watched the curls in her hair bounce as she ran.

“God, she looks like you,” I said. “Your hair bounced just like that when you ran.”

“Doesn’t everybody’s?”

“You don’t want me to write about you?”

“Oh, I don’t care, Coach. It’s just all so long ago.”

“Don’t you think about it sometimes?”

“Only when I try to get up with this knee,” she laughed. Then she stared right into my eyes. “Coach, it was a great year in my life—
all
my time playing was terrific. But nothing compares to …” she stopped. She tilted her head a little, still gazing into my eyes. “Look, the other day I came home from the grocery store, two full, heavy bags in my arms. Jonna was underfoot, following me into the house, jabbering the way she does. I can barely understand her sometimes when she gets going. I kind of stop listening. Anyway, I put the groceries on the counter. Jonna was at my feet, and I had to step around her to put the groceries away and I felt myself losing patience with her. I just wanted her to be
quiet
for a minute, stop pulling at my slacks and leave me alone, for god’s sake. I was so frustrated. Then, I just sat on the floor, leaned back against the counter, and looked at her. She came running into my arms, and I forgot the groceries, the open refrigerator. I just held her there, and I realized I was happier at that moment than when we won the Super Bowl. Just looking into my little girl’s eyes was better than all of it.”

I never had children. I didn’t know how that felt. I was kind of sorry I didn’t.

“So, if you want to write about me,” she said, “don’t forget to include
that
. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been.”

“Sometimes,” I said, “remembering your first year, I can get to feeling pretty happy myself.”

Coach Engram strode up the hill to us now, bouncing Jonna on his hip. “Three years old already. And isn’t she cute?”

Jonna smiled at him, her hand on his cheek. Once again there was cake all over her face.

“Are you married yet?” he said to her.

“Noooooo.”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

“I don’t have a
car
,” Jonna said, laughing. “You’re
silly
.”

Jesse was laughing, too. It was a nice sound—one I didn’t hear very often when she was playing. There was something softly feminine about it. She stood there with her arms folded in front of her, looking at her little girl fending off Coach Engram’s attempts to tickle her under the chin. I could see that Jonathon Engram was a pro around children. He’d raised a few of them himself.

“Skip’s going to write his own book about us,” Jesse said. She held out her arms and Jonna sort of fell into them. “Wow, you’re getting so heavy, little girl.” She gently put her down.

“Can I have more cake?” Jonna said.

“It’s your birthday, sweetie. All you have to do is ask.” Jesse took her hand and started off back toward the picnic table where all the other children were still gathered. I watched the two of them walking down the hill, Jesse towering over this little version of her.

“You going to write the thing yourself?” Engram asked.

“Won’t be too hard, I think. It’s all still so fresh in my mind.”

He nodded.

A cheer went up as Jesse and Jonna approached the table again. Jesse waved to the guys, like she was leaving a football field, weary and exhausted, wearing the bruises of yet another triumph.

Redskins Schedule in Jesse’s First Year

Final Standings, Jesse’s First Year