What Drives David Carr?
As one of the new young QB stars in the NFL, how does Houston's David Carr keep from thinking he's the best thing since plastic helmets?
by Rick Weber
You look at David Carr and you see a star in the making.
You see a 23-year-old man with chiseled good looks that have put him in a GQ pictorial. You see a blossoming Houston Texans quarterback with a 7-year contract worth $46.2 million.
You don't see a 21-year-old student living with his wife and newborn son in a cramped two-bedroom apartment filled with thrift-store-quality furniture near the Fresno State University campus.
You don't see someone who says he graduated with a master's degree in "surviving with two dependents on $595 a month" and occasionally could afford only Top Ramen for lunch.
You don't see someone who, after 2 years of near inactivity as a backup at Fresno State, was asked to redshirt. You don't see the frustration and despair that churned inside his soul and nearly led him to transfer—a decision that could have taken him down an entirely different path and dramatically altered the course of his life.
"Patience," Carr says.
This is what God has been teaching Carr in the 14 years since he accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior.
"I try to be a little aggressive sometimes," he says. "I got married young [at 19]. I'm going to have my second child soon. I'm a guy who always wants things to happen right away. And so God makes sure He slows everything down for me. He tries to tell me who's in control. That's something I see every day."
For a No. 1 draft pick, for the cornerstone of a new franchise in a football—mad city that had its team stolen away, there is this daunting daily carousel. The days are long, filled with multiple meetings and mind-numbing film study. Writers have questions to ask. Photographers have photographs to shoot. The business manager has business to manage. There is a tugging sensation.
Carr does not fight it. His gift is that he gets along with just about everybody who crosses his path. This is why he can say, "I try to find the good in everyone."
It's not that he doesn't have a choice. He does. Ryan Leaf had a choice. He chose to alienate himself with temperamental outbursts and confrontational behavior that ultimately led to a premature demise and an indelible legacy as poster child for the NFL flameout. So what is it with Carr?
Peace. It is the peace Jesus describes in John 14:27: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." It is the peace 9-year-old David Carr felt when he walked to the front of the chapel at a Royal Rangers camp in the mountains near Fresno and, flanked by his cousin, accepted Christ. It is something Carr lives with but can't really explain. Something he believes nobody can truly explain.
"I don't know how I could play this game without it," he says. "I don't know that I could be comfortable at the quarterback position—or any position of leadership—without it. I just don't know how some of these guys can go without it. I really don't. Because I go out on the field, and I don't know what's going to happen. You never know what's going to happen when you get 22 guys running around. You can draw it up nice and neat on a piece of paper, but it never ends up like that.
"I don't know what's going to happen. But I know Someone who knows what's going to happen."
There was never any doubt in Carr's mind that he would make that decision. He only needed to find the right time.
His grandfather, David Joyner, is a pastor. His parents' lives were filled with Christ. Tuesday nights were for prayer meetings, Wednesday nights were for Bible study, and Thursday nights were for choir practice. Carr would sit in the back pew of the sanctuary, doing his homework. Or he'd hang out with his grandmother, the church secretary.
The sanctuary truly was his sanctuary.
"That was always where I felt like I was comfortable," he says.
It is impossible to know Carr and not recognize that peace, that tranquility that is made possible by an inner strength that transcends the tough times.
"One thing I've noticed about him is that he has a very strong faith," says Texans tight end Billy Miller, who has attended the team's chapel and Bible study along with Carr. "It's in him and in his family. You can tell it's been passed down from generations. There's a great faith structure."
In following the path that God set before him, a 17-year-old Carr found himself at a Christian camp near Bakersfield. He noticed Melody Tipton, but for whatever reason, they did not meet-until the final day. That's when he summoned the courage to ask her for her phone number. She didn't figure he'd call, because they attended different high schools. But when she got home, she discovered that he had already left a message.
David and Melody had the Dallas Cowboys in common. Both loved Troy Aikman. Carr's parents were born outside Dallas. They loved the Cowboys enough to give Carr's brother, Derek, the middle name of Dallas.
It wasn't until months after they met that Carr told her he had a football scholarship to Fresno State.
His first year there was filled with heartache. He missed Melody, who was finishing up high school. Bulldogs coach Pat Hill told him he was young, that there were plenty of girls out there. "This is the one," he told Hill. And so David and Melody were married on March 27, 1999. And 14 months later, they had a son, Austin.
His parents, his grandparents, his wife, his son—they have formed a support group. It's what Leaf didn't have. It's what will keep Carr on track. It's what will help him to continue to develop as a person, even if at times he doesn't develop as a quarterback as quickly as everyone wants him to.
It's what inspires agent David Dunn, who failed in a bid to land Carr as a client while nabbing Joey Harrington, to gush, "I probably shouldn't say this, but [the Carrs] may be one of the nicest families you'll ever meet."
It's what inspires Fresno State assistant athletic director Steve Weakland, who has remained a close friend, to say, "I don't think there's any question that his faith and his family are the two biggest reasons for his success. He's a very grounded individual. He has taken care of his family. He basically retired his parents and built them a house in Houston, told them they're no longer working. With him, it's always family first."
Here's what Carr recalls about his childhood: Although his father worked 12 hours a day, he never left the house in the morning without reading the Bible and praying. When David asked him to do something, his father never said he was too busy. "I want to be like that," he remembers thinking.
And so he and Melody write in a devotional journal and share their thoughts every night at bedtime. They'll read a passage of Scripture and discuss it. Austin will be in between them. While they embrace him, they know he is embracing every thought that is expressed, every prayer that is offered.
"I've seen friends who have gone on the other side; they've been without God and the family structure," he says. "They had the money and had the fame and all the things that come with it, but they struggled. Some guys collapsed. Some guys that I've known from Fresno State or schools nearby that didn't have God in their life … you don't hear about them anymore, because they couldn't handle the pressure.
"They didn't know how to lean on God and their family. God's there for you, to take all the pressure. He's bigger than all of us."
There is temptation. It goes with the territory. He says he hasn't seen the signs held up by women at Reliant Stadium who apparently want him to be a part of their lives. But he has heard about them. "My brother tells me about every one of them," he says with a laugh.
All he has to do is look down at his left ring finger. The ring isn't there, because rules prevent players from wearing jewelry during games. But in its place is a piece of tape in the shape of a ring. "Just to let my wife know I'm still thinking about her," he says, "and that she's still there with me."
Says Miller, "My wife really liked the idea—so much that she asked me about it."
Carr includes Melody in just about he does. If the Texans would allow her into film-study sessions, he'd bring her along. And they'd peverythingrobably be surprised at her knowledge, because she's been studying films with Carr at home for years.
"Being in the position I'm in, we go through a lot of things that maybe the average person doesn't go through, as far as pressures and getting pulled different ways," he says. "Christ says we should be one, and it's hard when all the focus is on me. We did a fashion show the other day, and I made sure she was with me, that she walked out with me, right next to me.
"I'm really selfish when it comes to my family. When I have free time, that's where I am—with my family. I make sure everyone knows it."
That's something that was instilled in him through the mentoring of Trent Dilfer, who was Carr's idol when he was quarterback at Fresno State, leaving 4 years before Carr arrived.
Carr has observed and absorbed the extraordinary story of Dilfer's faith. He has seen how Dilfer accepted abuse in Tampa Bay without making excuses or pointing fingers. He has seen Dilfer lead the Baltimore Ravens to a Super Bowl victory, then get dumped the next year, ending up in Seattle. He has heard Dilfer humbly describe all of his hardships as blessings, as examples of what the psalmists describe as the wonders God has done. He has heard Dilfer publicly thank God for the adversity, offering that his "greatest growth usually comes in times of despair."
"He's a great friend," Carr says. "I admire him as a football player, as a person, a husband, a father. I can't put him on a pedestal, but he does everything right, it seems like. He always has time for me. If we don't talk to each other within a week, we're probably on the phone, calling each other at the same time."
Carr has been known to misplace his wallet and car keys. What he has never misplaced is his faith in God. He keeps Him close. He says that ever since his high school days, he has carried laminated Scripture—Jeremiah 29:11 and the Psalms are his favorites—underneath the insole of his right shoe, along with a cross.
Asked if he does this even when he plays, he replies, "Especially when I play."
Carr endured a rough indoctrination in his first year in Houston, operating behind a patchwork offensive line that frequently allowed bull-rushing defenders to force-feed him a diet of Turf du Jour. But what the Texans really have noticed is the graciousness, poise, and unflappability. They have noticed that he is living out the words on the eight-foot-long sign above the locker-room exit: DEEDS NOT WORDS.
"It's hard to be a phony in this business, because there's a sense of accountability you're going to be held to," Texans coach Dom Capers says. "Everybody's fate is so intertwined. Guys are going to develop trust in somebody whose actions speak for them. I think David lives by example. I think it's very apparent that he's a man of strong faith."
Says Carr, "Stay true to yourself. Through praying, reading the Bible, or talking to my wife, that's something that I keep feeling. I've tried to stay solid spiritually."
Sounds positively Dilferesque.
Rick Weber is a freelance writer who lives in Houston, Texas.
Inspiration from Sports Spectrum at www.christianitytoday.com
