Steve Gleason wasn't supposed to make it in the NFL. This is the story of how he beat the odds.

My NFL draft prospects as a college senior boiled down to this: I was a microscopic long shot.

Just before the spring before the 2000 NFL draft, I heard comments from NFL scouts similar to those I had heard from college coaches as a high school prospect: You’re a great football player, and love your tenacity on the field, but you’re too small.

They were just being honest. I knew the odds. A handful of scouts told me that I was on their draft board as a strong safety, potentially a late pick in the fifth, sixth, or seventh round. That kind of made sense. My time of 4.46 seconds in the 40-yard dash was easily fast enough for me to be a safety, but there was one problem: The number of times I’d played safety in my life was exactly zero.

When draft weekend arrived on April 15–16, I didn’t even watch or follow along the first day. While the top prospects were invited to the big event the league staged at Madison Square Garden in New York, I stayed in Pullman, Washington, and monitored things from my apartment.

My agent, Ken Staninger, and I updated each other periodically, but I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get picked at all. In all, 31 linebackers and 20 safeties were drafted over those two days. My agent and I knew that if I had any chance to make the NFL, it would be on special teams.

Scouts for the New York Jets, Oakland Raiders and Pittsburgh Steelers called me after the draft to see if I was interested in signing a free-agent contract with them. Other teams reached out to my agent.

Steve Gleason gets call from the Colts

The Indianapolis Colts’ head scout called me to say they wanted me to play outside linebacker, which was an intriguing option for me. After checking their roster, and their draft class, and comparing their situation to that of the other interested teams, my agent and I elected to go with the Colts. They offered me a whopping $5,000 signing bonus, which was more money than I had ever seen. I remember thinking, Well, if I don’t make it in the NFL, I can travel the world for years!

I immediately spent a lot more time in the Washington State weight room to put on more muscle, so at least I would be a little closer to legitimate linebacker weight. I reported to Indianapolis a month later at 214 pounds.

Then, the day before the rookie offseason training program began that May, the Colts put me through some defensive back drills in front of all their defensive coaches and promptly moved me to safety. Thanks, guys. Glad I bulked up to 214!

Trying to make an NFL roster as an undrafted rookie is almost impossible. The odds are stacked against you. You’re at the bottom of the pecking order in everything: salary, playing time, amenities, coaches’ attention. And the Colts were loaded with talent, including future Hall of Famers Peyton Manning and Edgerrin James. I was assigned jersey No. 45.

Going to Indiana was an exciting and scary time. My mom always encouraged me to explore the world, but I had never lived beyond a 70-mile radius of Spokane. I was lonely and missed my friends and family in Washington.

The Colts kept all the rookies in the same hotel. I went back there one day after a morning workout feeling a tenuous separateness from a world in which I wasn’t sure I belonged. Feeling like I was in a foreign country, I would lie on the couch looking out the window, staring into the parking lot of a massive strip mall. My downtime was spent studying my playbook and listening to music.

A tough meeting with Jim Mora

I made it to the final roster cut on Aug. 27. Then I was summoned to meet Colts head coach Jim Mora in his office, where he briefly and quite dispassionately cut me.

“Steve,” he said, “I just don’t believe you can play safety in the NFL.”

The news was devastating, a crushing failure to process. Up to that point in my young life, I had mostly experienced personal success on the football field. I was overwhelmed by frustration and a feeling of failure. I had worked so hard and given everything I had to come so close to ... nothing. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to shake the disappointment. It was like when someone you love breaks your heart.

I was listless once I returned to Spokane. Although I had no direct exposure to, or formal training in, what it meant to be resilient, I was still fairly confident that I had the skills to play in the NFL. My plan was to stay prepared for the next opportunity. I worked to be ready to have someone in my crosshairs.

The opportunity did come.

In late October, the New Orleans Saints called and said they were going to sign me to their practice squad. We had played the Saints in our third preseason game, and I made a couple of tackles on special teams. In doing so, I caught the eye of Saints special teams coach Al Everest. I signed with them on November 21, 2000.

As luck would have it, after just one week on the practice squad, I was watching my new team play the Rams in St. Louis on TV, and two backup linebackers — guys who primarily played special teams — were injured. One of the team’s personnel staffers called me after the game and told me that I’d be playing special teams the next Sunday.

“So, be ready, Steve,” he said.

I went in early the next day to study film with Al. We studied extra film together after practice that entire week. He told me that he loved my style of play — and that he had told Saints head coach Jim Haslett and Saints management that if the chance came up, he was 100% behind me becoming a Saint. This gave me a huge confidence boost.

That week with Al, I learned more about special teams technique, strategy and how to prepare for a game than I’d learned the previous eight years in high school and college. Little did I know, this was just the tip of the iceberg of practical wisdom I would gain from Al.

An NFL debut with the Saints

On Dec. 3, 2000, I made my official NFL debut, and on the opening kickoff of the second half, I made my first official NFL tackle. Flying down the field, I blew past the guy trying to block me and was pretty well positioned to blindside the kick returner, Deltha O’Neal. I adjusted my trajectory slightly, had the returner in my crosshairs, closer and closer to my target, and I fired away. Boom! I dropped him. After the play, as I was jogging toward the sidelines, I heard the public address announcer in the Superdome say, “Tackle by No. 37, Steve Gleason.”

I went on to play the rest of that season on special teams. We made the playoffs, and I was able to help the Saints win the very first playoff game in franchise history, a 31–28 win over the Rams, the reigning Super Bowl champions, on Dec. 30, 2000. We were rudely eliminated the next week by the Minnesota Vikings 34–16.

My resilience had paid off. I was playing in the NFL.

It would be nice to say that the rest is history, but during training camp before the start of the 2001 season, the Saints called me in and told me they didn’t need me on the team. I was released on Sept. 2, 2001.

Back to square one.

I didn’t know how much more of this football life I wanted to endure. My body and mind were weary. Despite the fatigue, I stuck with my training routine each morning and continued to stay prepared. Two months later, the Saints called again. One of the defensive backs on the team had accidentally shot himself in the knee; they needed me on special teams. Who knows what would have happened to my NFL career if that guy hadn’t had such misfortune?

Once again, I was lucky.

In my second game back against the Atlanta Falcons, I recovered a fumble on a kickoff return that set up a touchdown and helped us to a 28–10 win. I played well enough down the stretch of the 2001 season that the Saints signed me to a three-year contract. That probably sounds comforting, but the NFL doesn’t have guaranteed contracts, so since there was no signing bonus, the contract could be terminated at any point if I wasn’t performing up to the organization’s expectations.

Steve Gleason's NFL career turns the corner

During the 2002 season, I made the team, and we had the top special teams unit in the NFL. This was anchored by Coach Everest’s teaching and wisdom and highlighted by our star return man, Michael Lewis. In 2002, he returned two kickoffs and a punt for touchdowns and made the Pro Bowl and All-Pro team.

I led the special teams unit in nearly every category that year and enjoyed one of the best years of my career. I was named the NFL’s Special Teams Player of the Week after I blocked a punt in a 34–24 win against the Carolina Panthers in Week 10. It was the Saints’ first blocked punt in five seasons.

I was voted an alternate to the Pro Bowl, and ESPN named me to their Pro Bowl team. I was happy with how things had turned out after two chaotic seasons.

I felt immense gratitude for this journey I was on. I also knew I owed nearly all my on-field success to Everest, the guy who noticed me two years earlier during the preseason and insisted that Haslett and Saints management hire me. Al was my guru, as well as my friend.

One of his mantras was, “A jackass works hard all day long, but at the end of the day, guess what? It’s still a jackass.”

Al Everest taught me how to “work smart” in the NFL. He reinforced the concept that human power doesn’t lie in height, strength, or speed. Our power resides in our mind.

Al would repeatedly emphasize that games were merely a product of how I worked, trained and studied outside the game. He and I would sit in his office every day, studying opponents’ patterns, habits, and style, going back and forth to help me create meticulous pre-practice and practice habits along with a strong pregame routine. I’m extremely lucky our paths merged.

Over the next few years, through Al’s coaching and a lot of hard work and practice, I established myself as one of the top special teams players in the NFL. I led the team in special teams tackles during those years and blocked a punt in each of the 2002, 2003 and 2004 seasons. Only future Hall of Famer Ed Reed blocked as many punts during that span.

My teammates voted me the captain of the special teams units, and our opponents compiled their game plans around me on coverage and return units. Many teams would double-team me or target me with their best player.

Putting in the work for the Saints

During game weeks, I prepared meticulously so I would be able to execute my assignments. When the games rolled around, I played with creativity, intelligence and intensity. Although I felt fear almost every time I stepped between the white lines, I was confident in my preparation and was usually able to maintain poise.

But I had my moments. During the 2004 season, we were getting dominated by the Carolina Panthers. On a kickoff, I got trucked by Kemp Rasmussen. I was on my knees trying to digest the play, and he walked over and stood over me, subtly taunting me.

How did I respond? I punched him right in the nuts. I quickly turned and started sprinting to the sideline, but I almost ran into a ref who was throwing a flag. Busted. I was ejected and fined $10,000.

The violence of the game and the kamikaze nature of my special teams role took a physical toll on my body. I endured and played through numerous injuries, including getting knocked out cold twice on kickoffs and multiple knee injuries that required arthroscopic surgeries. I also broke my thumb, hyperextended my elbow, bruised my lung, pulled a hamstring, strained my neck and suffered an abdominal injury that felt like I had swallowed a Chinese throwing star.

During the crazy dramatic ups and downs of those first two seasons of my NFL career, I encountered a lot of discontent, loneliness and fear of my own insignificance. Looking back, I realize these were early glimpses of learning the wisdom of acceptance, patience and trust.

This acceptance, in my view, is the essential foundation of resilience. On a more tangible level, I learned the power of developing systems and habits to develop character, and to enjoy the process of bringing some order from chaos.

I would lean on my NFL experience during what would come later.