My Vote For “MVP”
Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. This year, I’m thankful for the unconditional love and support of my Most Valuable Parent.
By Le’Veon Bell (as told to Jamie O’Grady)
A s a running back in the National Football League, my instinct is to always be moving forward. No matter what the defense throws at me, no matter how successful our offensive game plan is, it’s always full steam ahead. In some ways, that’s why Thanksgiving is my favorite time of year — it gives me the chance to look back, to consider not just where I am going, but where I’ve been.
Now a veteran on the team, I’m building something wonderful in Pittsburgh, but I know that nothing can be built without a solid foundation; without the right materials. For me, that all starts with my mother — and her unwavering belief that despite life’s twists and turns, its highs and lows, it’s important to maintain balance and perspective. Get stuffed at the line for no gain? Get right back up. Break off a 70-yard TD run? Get ready for the next series.
My mother was my first and strongest offensive line. Raising my two brothers and me as a single, working mom, her résumé is far more remarkable than any 200-yard game on mine. She was our family’s great protector. Looking back on things now, we never knew struggle, even though we struggled. There were countless times when we didn’t have, I just didn’t know we didn’t have. It wasn’t just things and stuff, either; we never lived in the best neighborhoods, but she made sure we weren’t in the worst ones, either. I was always in the right schools, with the right resources at my disposal. She saw to it that I had the sports equipment I needed, and even now, I have no idea how she came up with the money for it. The irony is, when people now compliment my ability to make something out of nothing on the football field, my mom is the one who’s been doing so in real life all along.
Of all the lessons my mom taught me, though, the one that still resonates the most was to treat every loss as a learning experience. I didn’t always win at everything — Lord knows I tried! — but that wasn’t the point. The point was to be the best I could possibly be. When I lost a tennis match in eighth grade, I shook my opponent’s hand afterward and asked him to stay behind to show me how to hit the ball with topspin like he did. It wasn’t about how bad I had played earlier, it was about how good I aspired to be going forward. I wish all children could grasp how important it is to strive to improve themselves. Especially the ones who grow up in difficult circumstances.
I’m thankful for family, both immediate and extended. Mom didn’t care only for me and my friends, her care spread to everyone and everything in her personal world. She has four dogs, and takes care of them like family. They are family. I have a dog of my own now, Beautiful, a Rottweiler. I love her the same way my mother taught me, unconditionally.
My mom likes to think I learned my moves from dodging our German Shepherd Z in our backyard. That’s partly true, but I also honed my juking skills from watching how she handled her business — if there was an obstacle in our way, she was going to find a way over, around, and past it.
As a Pittsburgh Steeler, I’m thankful for the unconditional love this city has shown me. My entire family were Steelers fans long before I was drafted by the franchise, so when people around here say that they live and die with this team, I know they aren’t kidding. That’s part of the reason why Pittsburgh is the perfect fit for me, as a player and as a person. Though I don’t know him personally, I imagine I feel as honored to be wearing the black and gold as Derek Jeter did when he put on the pinstripes. I am that blessed. And I will feel the same way this Sunday when we go to battle against the New Orleans Saints.
Like the other 65,000+ members of Steeler Nation who attend home games, my mom sits in the stands, too, living and dying during each and every play. She also comes to road games within a reasonable drive of our family home in Ohio — and she never misses our games in Baltimore or Cleveland. That kind of support is invaluable. It makes me want to do better as an athlete and a person.
This Thanksgiving, my mom is traveling to Steel City to cook dinner for me and some of my teammates who aren’t fortunate enough to have a place to spend the holiday. She makes the entire Thanksgiving meal from scratch. Turkey with cornbread dressing, baked beans, mashed potatoes, potato salad, chitlins, and my favorite, mac & cheese. Topped off by a sweet potato pie. I wish I could invite you. Everyone deserves to taste her food at least once.
When I was at Michigan State, she traveled to our bowl game against TCU and cooked in the hotel’s kitchen; she actually brought her own roasters and crockpots because the hotel didn’t have an oven. She’s always had everything covered, which is funny, because as amazing as it’s been learning from Coach Tomlin the last two seasons, my mother was the first one to show me how valuable a tight game plan really is.
Of course, the best coaching and game plans don’t mean anything in the NFL without trust. That means trusting your teammates and trusting yourself — in your abilities on the field and that the preparation you’ve put in will translate into performance. Trust is something I learned early on from my mom and it’s something that I remain thankful for to this day.
My senior year in high school, when I wasn’t being recruited heavily, she suggested I attend one college that wanted me to play safety. I told her, “you said you would always trust me — please trust me that I’m a running back. I’m a damn good running back.” Months later, when we took a trip to Central Michigan, we spotted a Michigan State Spartan mascot on a sign. She asked me, “What is a Spartan, anyway?” Turned out I was a Spartan, and the rest is history.
On Thanksgiving in 2013, on national television, while trying to dive across the goal line for a game-tying touchdown against our rival Baltimore Ravens, I took a helmet-t0-helmet hit, and my helmet came flying off. Thankfully, the concussion I suffered on the play was mild, and not career-threatening, and I continue to run now as aggressively and powerfully as I always have. A running back can’t be effective if he lets fear creep into his mind.
I know moments like those are not easy for my mom. Sure, she always puts on a brave face for me, but she can’t completely hide her worry from me. Not that she doesn’t have a sense of humor about her son being a starting NFL running back. Believe it or not, she actually asked me to get J.J. Watt’s autograph during a game. (Outside of me, he’s her favorite player in the league.) I laughed, and told her it might be little tough, because I would be a little busy running from, around, and past him. She told me to make sure he didn’t hit me, because he hits so hard. “Well, he has to catch me first, Mom,” I replied.
All kidding aside, when I step time out on that field, I pray. Every single time. Yes, I pray because I know exactly how dangerous my line of work can be, but I also pray because I am so truly thankful to be doing what I do. I have scripture tattooed on my left arm: John, 3:15. It reads, “That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.” I recite it before I play. It’s important to believe in something bigger than yourself. And not only in terms of your God, but in life in general. There’s strength in humility. Just like your glory is just a small part of God’s glory, your individual success is just a small part of your team’s success.
Along the same lines, my success is just a small part of my family’s success. I’m thankful my hard work has earned me a job that allows me to help my mother finally retire. Even though I have my dream job, I haven’t forgotten the pinky-promise I made to go back and get my degree from Michigan State. In our family, a pinky-promise is a big deal — you’re only as good as your word. And I’ll have my degree soon enough, because my mother taught me the importance of finishing strong — on and off the field.
