It didn’t take long for Alex Smith to realize how bad it was.
While Houston Texans safety Kareem Jackson unleashed a war cry after a momentum-killing third down sack, Washington Redskins quarterback Alex Smith lay on the ground behind him, in the early stages of epiphany.
The $94 million quarterback had landed on all fours after being sandwiched between Jackson and J.J. Watt. He crawled only an inch before reality struck, past all the adrenaline and the stadium noise and the smell of disheveled Bermuda grass. He rolled onto his back, his right leg dangling as its own entity below the knee, and the calls for the trainers came. Swift and frantic.
But Smith didn’t listen. Maybe he heard all the noise. Maybe he heard the many players from both teams who flocked to give him well-wishes. Maybe he heard the trainers whisper words of console, as he rode into the shadow of the tunnel on the back of a cart. Maybe he heard. But he didn’t listen. With one of his life’s loves pried away from him so abruptly, there was only so much Smith could do.
And so the quarterback simply stared ahead as he left the field, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, his leg in a cast. He clasped his hands together, flat, palm to palm, giving a small nod to faith in a faithless moment, and waved to the crowd as they applauded his last act. And then his hands parted and went over his face. Drowning out the lights.
Maybe he thought to himself, in the many empty hours that come with being immobilized, “What did I do to deserve this?” If so, who could blame him for feeling scorned? The quarterback who’d been drafted No. 1 overall by the 49ers in 2005, only to underachieve and be under-appreciated throughout his career? The quarterback who’d won everything but the big game? The quarterback who put his team before himself at every destination, no matter the circumstances?
No one can blame Smith for feeling scorned, but if he did, it was no more than the human reaction; an instinctual variation of the mind that quickly faded. Because, in a sport full of competitors, Smith has consistently risen above such human inclinations. On the field, where it’s necessary, Smith is a true competitor. But off the field, he transcends this form.
Alex Smith and the roots of humility
The Utah football legend rode into the NFL with his reputation soaring, both on and off the field. In his junior season with the Utes, he logged 2,952 passing yards, 42 total touchdowns, and over 600 additional rushing yards. He finished fourth in Heisman voting, and was touted as an early first-round pick as soon as he declared.
The inflation of even a modest ego would not be a surprising effect of that kind of excitement, but Smith inflated nothing but his own draft stock with a personality that caught the eye of coaches. San Francisco’s coach at the time, Mike Nolan, was famously rumored (per For the Win’s Andrew Joseph) to have been swayed toward picking Smith after seeing Smith open a car door for his mother before a meeting with the 49ers.
Smith was selected No. 1 overall by the 49ers, and for eight seasons, he’d reluctantly call the bay area his home. But through the first eight years of his career, Smith went through a number of harrowing trials; ones that have washed other quarterbacks out of the league entirely.
But Smith withstood the circumstances early on, and managed to compete as a starter. It was a start to his career that not only paved the way for a longer tenure, but helped cement humility in a young quarterback’s mind.
A different kind of competition
In his rookie season, Smith threw 11 interceptions to one lone touchdown. In his first five seasons, he worked with five different offensive coordinators. In 2008, he missed a full sixteen game slate with a shoulder injury, and there was talk that the 49ers would release Smith, leaving him to an uncertain fate. He would instead remain the starter for three and a half more years, only to be unseated by Colin Kaepernick in 2012.
Competition with team mates was something Smith had experienced before. At one point, he had been tasked with winning a quarterback battle against Shaun Hill. But it had been a long time since Smith lost. He lost in 2013, when the disillusioned 49ers traded Smith to the Chiefs, and he lost again in 2018, after a career season, when Kansas City traded him to the Washington Redskins. The writing had been on the wall for the entire season prior, as the Kansas City Chiefs traded up in the 2017 NFL Draft to draft Patrick Mahomes. Mahomes would win the MVP award in 2018.
The acquisition of Mahomes could have cultivated a different kind of competition. It could have fostered a toxic locker room environment, one where the starter saw the backup as a direct threat to his occupation, defensive of his alpha title. It could have been integration into team culture that would begin to unravel the bonds of external competition, at the hands of its sly internal cousin.
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If it was anyone other than Alex Smith, that is.
Smith had to have seen the writing on the wall; his contract would be up the next year, and the Chiefs passed up other needs to make a sound investment in the most important position in football. Smith could have protested and asked to be traded then and there. He could have been insulted by the move. He could have dug his heels in, and made life miserable for this rookie from Texas Tech.
But he didn’t. Instead, Smith did the thing that seemed simple, even though it couldn’t have been anything of the sort. Smith stuck around Kansas City, won the starting job for 2017, and mentored the man guaranteed to take his job the next season. He set aside human emotions and ulterior motives, and left the competition on the field.
In the words of Mahomes’ godfather, per Terez Paylor, “Alex Smith was heaven-sent.”
Smith threw for over 4,000 yards, 26 touchdowns, and five interceptions in 2017. But behind the scenes, his best work for Kansas City went unseen. Some, including Andy Reid, would say Smith played a primary role in readying Patrick Mahomes for his MVP season. To quote Paylor again, Mahomes was a sponge. He watched Smith, not only how he played, but how he conducted himself. And it’s clear, after a year, that Smith was the best example Mahomes could have followed.
But while Mahomes exploded onto the national stage in Kansas City, Alex Smith’s career restarted for the third time, in the nation’s capital.
A chance with the Redskins, left in limbo
It’s at this point where the mind might work against one. Where seeds of doubt might sprout roots, and plant themselves firmly in place. It’s an invasive species Alex Smith has no doubt come across over his long NFL career. Until now, he’s kept it from taking over the conscience.
But now, in a third wave, the odds have mounted against Smith, leaving his NFL future not just in doubt, but leaving it as the least of his worries.
After Smith’s injury against the Houston Texans, he was immediately taken to have surgery. On the way to the hospital, with the bone sticking out of his leg, he asked how Colt McCoy was doing in his place. The surgery itself was successful, but Smith later suffered from complications, and subsequent infections. The resulting carnage saw doctors partially reconstruct his leg, and he’s now in an external fixator. Playing in 2019? Consider it almost impossible. Playing ever again? Consider it a dream to catch.
As a player, Smith was never the most talented on the field. His career totals are modest as a starter, and now with his third team, he’s in danger of being forgotten again, even if he does make a miraculous return. But while he never hit his stride as a passer in D.C., his presence, and his mentality, a competitor on the field, and a brother off it, permeated through the locker room. The intangible became tangible, as Smith’s leadership led Washington, a certifiably average team, to a torrid 6-3 start. Ask 53 players when the Redskins 2018 season fell apart, and you’ll hear the same answer 53 times.
“It all fell apart when Alex Smith went down.”
Under-appreciated everywhere he goes, Smith is given nothing by the sport he loves, and yet, he keeps giving back. In San Francisco, he withstood a dysfunctional organization with one goal in mind: to bring success back to the golden coast. In Kansas City, he was introduced to his replacement, and he showed his replacement how to replace him. In Washington, he almost single-handedly overhauled a culture rendered toxic by a meddling front office.
As a player, Smith is polarizing. But as a competitor, and as a brother in arms, there is consensus: Smith is one of the best.
A player like Smith should deserve a legacy better than the one he’s attained. Smith chose the Redskins, when asked by the Chiefs where he’d prefer to be traded, and he chose them because he saw the Redskins as a chance in waiting. A chance to finally earn the success he’s never asked for. The success he’s showed up early for. The success he’s stayed late for. The success he almost lost his leg for.
Now, Alex Smith’s chance is in limbo. But three times in his career, Alex Smith was discarded. All three times, he came back to compete. The odds against him, however, have never been this great.
If you believe in karma, then Alex Smith will return. For Smith, however, it’s not as simple. It never has been. But don’t expect Smith to ask for anything. His mentality has made him an NFL starter for thirteen years. If his mentality can accomplish that, then perhaps it can bring him back, from the brink of catastrophe.