This Season, As It Was

Coming into this season, I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to play football again.

After last year in Miami — 2024 — there was a lot sitting heavy with me. Like every season, it tested my mind, body, and spirit. But that one, in particular, cut deeper. The way it ended didn’t sit right with me. After 12 years in the NFL, All-Pro honors, and everything I’d poured into this game, it felt unfinished.

All offseason, I went back and forth.

I’d remind myself I’ve had a great career. I’ve done more than most ever will.

And still something in me knew there was more.

After the season, I went to the Amazon. I spent time in the forest. I sat with medicine. Not to escape anything, but to listen. To remember who I am beneath the noise. I found clarity not necessarily answers, but perspective. A reminder that God is in control, and that my job is to stay aligned, stay ready, and trust the flow of life.

I came back grounded. Grateful. Proud of what I’ve accomplished — even if the previous season didn’t play out the way I hoped.

Still, I didn’t know what was next.

So I stayed present. I kept building Luminate — a space rooted in breathwork, sound, and self-inquiry — and I’m incredibly proud of where that work is heading. We went on tour. We built community. I worked on myself. Mind, body, spirit. Meditation. Breathwork. Deep conversations. Less traditional training, more internal work.

Around June, conversations started happening.

The idea was simple at first: come back the way Micah Hyde did the season before. Practice squad. Be a presence. Help the young guys. Stay ready. Be a resource. Be a light.

Nothing guaranteed.

For the first time in my career, I didn’t go to training camp. Instead, I was in Brazil with the Yawanawá as camp opened. Early August. Still unsure if I’d even play again.

The timing was divine.

I got back from Brazil, and things started moving quickly. The idea shifted to coming back after camp, signing to the practice squad, and being part of the team. And for me, the opportunity to finish my career where it truly became home — to retire a Buffalo Bill when and if that time comes — meant everything.

I didn’t come in expecting to play much. Maybe a game or two. My mindset was simple: put my head down and work.

I signed August 28th.

And I’ll be honest — coming back to Buffalo and being on the practice squad was one of the most humbling experiences of my career.

I’d been a starter my entire life. Twelve years in this league, always lining up with the ones. And now, I’m watching the ones and twos take the field while I’m standing on the sideline.

In my head, that was going to be the whole season.

It wasn’t easy. It forces you to look in the mirror. It strips away ego. It teaches you patience. And it taught me a lot about myself — about being present without attachment, about putting the team first, about showing up fully even when the role isn’t glamorous.

It reminded me that leadership isn’t about snaps or status. It’s about service. It’s about doing your job the best you can, even when nobody’s watching. Especially then.

That became my rhythm for the first five weeks — practice squad. Film work. Giving looks. Helping guys prepare. Grinding quietly. Staying ready.

Then everything changed.

Week five or six, two safeties went down — T-Rapp, then D-Ham. Same practice. Same moment. Suddenly I’m told I’m up. I’m starting.

I remember sitting in the safety room when Joe Danna told me to pull my “up.” And honestly — I was ready. Not because it was easy, but because I trusted the work. I hadn’t skipped steps. I stayed ready.

Was it challenging? Absolutely.

No OTAs. No camp. Five weeks of football — and now I’m back in a crucial role, playing a lot, adjusting on the fly. But slowly, I found my rhythm. I felt solid. I’m proud of how I showed up.

Then came the Miami game.

Playing against my former team, I wanted that one badly. And I didn’t play well. There’s no way around it. It crushed me.

I remember calling a close friend afterward — just needing another voice. I was questioning myself. Asking, What am I doing? Am I really ready for this?

He reminded me of something simple but powerful:

You’re doing your best. You had a bad game. Keep going.

That moment mattered.

Because I had a choice. There was still a lot of football left. I could spiral — or respond.

I chose to keep going.

And I did.

I found the flow again. I found the joy again. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun playing football.

Against Cleveland, right before Christmas, everything felt like it was clicking. I caught my first interception in three years. Got back on the board. Got a half sack. I was in rhythm. In a super flow.

Then I tweaked my hamstring.

I tried to come back for the playoffs. It wasn’t 100%. And unfortunately, I tweaked it again — probably worse. Missing the following game hurt, especially against Denver. That’s part of the game. It is what it is, and it ain’t what it ain’t.

I don’t like publicly scrutinizing officiating or how games are called. I’ve always believed in lining up and playing the game the right way. But what we saw — not just in that game, but across the league — makes it clear the game can be better. It has to be better. For the integrity of the game we love.

Football has changed a lot since I entered the league. Schemes evolve — that’s natural. But at its core, the game has drifted. Even at the youth level, everything has become seven-on-seven, flashy, disconnected from fundamentals. Eyes. Alignment. Assignment. Technique. The simple things.

That’s a conversation for another day.

What matters here is this: despite how it ended, I’m grateful.

I’m grateful for my teammates. For my coaches. For the city of Buffalo and the fans who welcomed me back with nothing but love. I’m grateful for my family — my wife, my daughter, my mom, my dad, my brother — for standing by me through all of it.

And I want to say this clearly: this is not a retirement announcement.

I’m simply sharing this season for what it was — a gift, a grind, a reminder.

As for what’s next — I’m excited. Buffalo will always be home. It’s the only place I’d ever consider coming back to. And if I don’t, I’m at peace — living fully, gratefully, with my family. Coaching is something I think about, but I’ve seen how much time it demands. Right now, I want to be present with the people I love.

I’ll continue building Luminate. Continue doing this work. Continue using my voice.

Because I know this now more than ever: my purpose has always been bigger than football.

We live in a wild world. And each of us has a responsibility to shine our light — not perfectly, but honestly. It starts internally. With how we show up. With the energy we carry. With how we treat one another.

Love more. Love deeper. Love always.

That’s the work I’ll keep doing — on the field, off the field, wherever life takes me.