Saturday marks one year since I woke up to the news that Avery Atkins had either taken his own life or died of a drug overdose in Daytona Beach. During the past year, I’ve thought about him so many times and I can’t tell you how my heart aches that this kid felt so cornered by his circumstances that he wouldn’t listen to the people that only had his best interests in mind.
I won’t bore you with too many details or anecdotes. If you’ve been on Gator Country for any length of time, then you already know that Avery was my friend and a kid that melted hearts with that effervescent smile and a personality that I can only describe as magnetic. In my heart, I’ll always believe that this was a really good kid who simply got in way over his head and then complicated matters by listening to the wrong people. I was young once myself and I remember how difficult it was to make the right decisions when my peers were telling me one thing and friends, family and older people who knew better were telling me something else. I wish I could say I was mature enough to make all the right choices but you know better than that.
I wish Avery had been mature enough to listen to his mom, his grandmother and his aunt, the three women that raised him to be a polite, caring young man. They did the best they could and the Avery that most of us were familiar with was a testament to the marvelous job they did of passing along their core set of values. When he came to the University of Florida, I would have bet any amount of money that this would be one kid that would never stray from the good foundation those three fine women instilled in him.
Once he was in school at Florida, there were others who did their best to influence him. For the first six months he was on campus, Urban and Shelley Meyer were steady as a rock and always there for him. I know from conversations I had with Avery that he really loved his coach and he thought Shelley was sent from heaven.
If you had asked me in November of 2005 to fast forward from Florida’s 34-7 stomping of FSU to July 2008, I would have bet money that Avery Atkins would be getting ready to head off to his first NFL camp. He was that talented. I truly believe he could have gone down as one of the two or three best cornerbacks ever to come out of the University of Florida if things hadn’t gone south.
Right after Florida’s Outback Bowl win over Iowa, Avery Atkins’ life began to unravel. His girlfriend gave birth to a son and that seemed to trigger even more problems. That’s when everybody he knew started offering advice and making suggestions. His girlfriend and her mom were telling him one thing. His mom, grandma and aunt were telling him something else. Friends were in his ear. Back in Gainesville, Urban and Shelley Meyer and Chuck Heater were doing everything they could to reason with him.
Knowing Avery, I’m sure he appreciated that so many caring grownups were trying to steer him in the right direction but something wouldn’t allow him to grab one of those helping hands. I know he wanted to make the right choices. I know that because that was his nature. He had this burning desire for people to like him and because of that, I believe he had an extremely difficult time saying no.
I believe that inability to say no got him involved with all the wrong people, led to the drug arrest and subsequently to his death at age 20. I’m not going to even try to rationalize what happened with Avery. I just look at all those bad choices and wonder why he couldn’t understand that there were some good people who wouldn’t give up on him, ready to give him as many chances as he needed to straighten out his life if he would just show a willingness to help himself. In the end, he paid the ultimate price for turning his back on the people that cared the most.
A year later, I wish Avery Atkins could have had a second chance, a third chance or maybe even a fourth or a fifth chance to get his life straightened out. I used to think that the only way to run a football team was to immediately send packing anyone that didn’t walk the straight and narrow path but I’ve done a 180 in my thinking. I used to think coaches that gave kids extra chances were only concerned about winning and let’s face it, there are some coaches that would lobby for an axe-murderer to stay on the team if he could run a 4.3 and cover a 15-yard out pattern. Unfortunately, as long as there is football there will be coaches whose obsession with winning preempts decency and common sense.
There are also coaches that won’t give up on kids as long as the kid will try to turn his life around. Those are the coaches that I tend to favor, particularly since Avery died. I realize that not every kid can be saved, but someone has to at least try and try again. And, I know that some kids refuse help and those you just have to jettison and pray that before it’s too late, something or someone will touch their hearts and bring about necessary change.
During the past year, Gator Country Executive Editor Buddy Martin has allowed me the rare privilege of helping with the proof reading of “Urban’s Way,” his extraordinary authorized biography of Urban Meyer that hits the book stands in September. This is an outstanding book — believe me when I tell you that you will read it more than once — and a marvelous job by Buddy of capturing all the things in life that are really important to Meyer.
As I turned page after page, I felt a deeper appreciation for Meyer, who I think is going to revolutionize the way college football coaches deal with kids. Urban is smart enough to know that he can’t save every kid in the world, but he is determined that he can at least try to save every at risk kid he comes in contact with. He knows he won’t succeed every single time but he also knows that if he doesn’t try, there is no chance whatsoever.
Meyer’s way of doing things is not carte blanche for kids to screw up, say they’re sorry and then get unlimited opportunities. He is always willing to forgive but he also makes it abundantly clear that there are consequences. This is the part that gets tricky for the kid. If he wants to get back in the good graces of his coach, then he has to pay a price and prove himself. The kids that have transferred out or have been kicked out of the program for disciplinary reasons are the kids that refuse to pay the price and all we can do is hope that some day they’ll see the light.
Now, I know that there are some folks who are going to read this and say, “Any kid that embarrasses the University of Florida shouldn’t get a second chance … he should lose his scholarship and never have a chance to come back.” If that is your opinion all I can say is you’re entitled to it, but I have to disagree. If teaching a kid to own up to his mistakes and facing the consequences results in saving a life, then I’m all for it even if it means a second, third or fourth chance.
And that’s what we’re talking about here. It’s about saving lives. It’s about turning at risk kids into functional, productive adults. Avery Atkins forfeited his chance to live out his dreams of going to the National Football League and someday taking care of his mother, his grandma and his aunt. We can only hope that the next kid that comes along will see the opportunity to salvage his life and he will take it.