10 Minutes of Insanity: The Johnny Rodgers Story

Osborne

WHAT WAS I

THINKING

"What was I thinking?

I had the whole world ahead of me and I risked it all with a dumb prank. I was standing on the threshold of greatness, yet I blew it. How could I have been so stupid? What was I thinking?

Unfortunately, I’m not alone. We all have those moments of insanity, those times when we wonder why we do certain things. It is usually only after we have done the stupid thing that we stop and think. We get so used to just doing that we don’t pause to plan. No wonder we are confused when something doesn’t go quite according to the plan, when the outcome didn’t quite meet our expectations, or when we had it all and blew it.

There are other times when we pause because we know we made a critical mistake. We miscalculated what was needed, assumed resources that didn’t materialize, or maybe this is the worst, we didn’t consider the consequences. Sometimes we are dumbfounded, wondering why we risked everything for something so insignificant. Our thoughtless actions jeopardized our ultimate dreams. We wonder how we could have been so stupid.

It is bad enough that we got ourselves into trouble but usually drag others into our drama. No wonder our friends and family cannot figure out what in the world we were thinking. No wonder those closest to us shake their heads, wag their fingers, give a lecture or turn and walk away. We are lucky when it doesn’t involve the authorities but all too often we find the police knocking on our door. It is only then that we realize the reality of the situation. What we thought was only a senseless and insignificant prank, an emotional response in the heat of the moment, was actually 10 minutes of insanity. We did not think of the consequences until after the fact.

If only I knew now what I knew then.

This book is written to help you focus on the benefits of self-discipline or the lack thereof. I want to help you see the benefits of doing the things in life you need to do when you need to do them whether you feel like it or not.

Without these moments of insanity we would be free to spend our lives helping others, not branded by our worst mistake. Without that moment we would be unrestricted to pursue our lofty dreams and highest goals.

This book will help you avoid the worst mistakes of your life. I want you to be known for your successful moments, not for your biggest failures. To do that, I’m sharing my story.

I recently turned 65 years old and realized it was time to tell the story that I have withheld for so long. It still seems so fresh in my mind and I remember it like it was yesterday. I look back to 1970 when I was 18 and going on 35. The truth is that I was dumber than dirt. I was convinced I was ready for the world, full of confidence and the most daring person I knew, but I was stupid enough to try anything twice. My confidence might have come from living with asthma and tuberculous as a young child and with bleeding ulcers in high school and college. I overcame some pretty significant obstacles but I did not know there were much tougher things to come.

By the time I was 19, I already had four children, accidentally shot my best friend and saw my grandmother after she was stabbed 75 times. I had been stabbed in the back, shot in the leg and my life threatened by neighborhood gang members on a daily basis.

My family only knew hard work, limited opportunities and a long heritage of poverty. No wonder I was obsessed with making serious money, becoming a risk taker in the streets, the Craps Houses and in the sports arena.

With a great, great grandmother, great grandmother and grandmother, I had a wealth of extended family attention. But at home, things were different as I seemed to be all alone. That is how I found time to get involved with sports. I was blessed with athletic talent that brought me many opportunities to interact with great mentors and coaches. They believed I had potential and I learned to believe in myself. They also continually challenged me to develop and improve my natural talents. One coach challenged me to run faster, another to become stronger and another to drag a bunt down first base. I accepted every challenge and worked hard to improve, whether it was learning to switch hit or raising my grades. I loved to be challenged, I enjoyed working hard and I always took their advice except for one critical piece – stay out of trouble. I wished I had listened because I paid dearly for not learning that lesson.

I never went looking for trouble and often ran away from it. But there was always someone jealous of my popularity or sports success that was determined to prove themselves at my expense. So there was a fight. One of my coaches said that he never knew of me starting one but did hear of me finishing many.

Looking back, I should have seen it coming and avoided it all together. Everything had been going great in 1970 when I successfully finished a challenging but rewarding first year of college. Like many others, I experimented with alcohol and in my deluded sense of genius decided to rob a gas station as a prank. What was I thinking? I was feeling pretty confident when it went according to the plan I had conceived. I felt like I had written a brilliant screenplay and then starred in the blockbuster movie. I felt bold and proud until I woke up the next morning and realized how stupid I had been. My alcohol induced genius was nowhere to be found and wasn’t needed to realize how much trouble I could be in.

That was 46 years ago and I wrote this book to share how my 10 minutes of insanity hurt me for a lifetime. It also hurt my family. By tarnishing my reputation, not only did I have to live with it but so did my family. That was not fair to them because a parent should be an example for the children. I feel ashamed of my lack of self-discipline. No one made me stupid, I just was.

My actions were also unfair to all those who believed in and supported me. Coaches and teachers supported me yet I made headlines for the wrong reason. Instead of being proud of me, they had to defend me. Even when I received many trophies and awards their association with me was smudged by that one horrible mistake. I am ashamed because it was all my fault.

Last year I received a pardon for that crime and with it came a rush of memories as well as an opportunity to tell my story. So I challenged myself to look back and detail how I have gone from the Hall of Shame in 1970 to the Husker Hall of Fame in 2016. I was fortunate to survive my mistakes and stay out of jail when others did not. Too often we hear of athletes, celebrities and politicians making similar mistakes and never fully recovering. In writing this book, my message to you is Do as I say, not as I did. Learn from my mistakes so you don’t make life any harder than it needs to be. Being a sickly little poor boy was challenge enough, I didn’t need to add another obstacle and overcome 2 million to 1 odds to succeed. Life didn’t have to be that hard. Becoming a felon at 20 years old changed the entire playing field of my life, limiting my ability to score. I’ve learned from that mistake and hope that you can too. That is why I wrote this book.

Any one of our immature mistakes will cause lingering problems. You have heard it said before but you need to hear this message again, Don’t waste your time. From the time that we are all 1 year old until we are 70, we have approximately 840 months to live. By the time we are 30, we have used up 360 months of the prime time where we can burn the candle on both ends. That pretty much dictates how you are going to live the next 480 months, which brings us to 70 years old. That is 25,280 days and many more opportunities to succeed. So don’t waste your time making mistakes you can avoid.

Your situation will be a different location, time, income, ethnicity or talent but we all face the same temptation to take the path of least resistance, enjoying the things that are fun and easy. Don’t do it. Go the hard and long route and discipline yourself. We all have dreams, fears and temptations. We all make mistakes. The good news is that we all have the power to resist those temptations, avoid those mistakes and live successfully if we learn our lessons from our mentors, coaches and teachers early in life. That is what I am challenging you to do in this book.

In the end, we all have the power to turn failure into victory, a loss into a win, an obstacle into an opportunity. We have the power to avoid and overcome mistakes. But if we don’t learn those lessons we live a story of frustration and failure. We can be champions when we have a plan and know that if we don’t have a plan, we plan to fail. I learned that success isn’t a secret but a system and I call mine The HEISMAN Factor. You will read about that later but let’s get to the story.

It all started with a Boogie Man and his crazy wife.

THE

BOOGIE MAN

Turn back the clock to 1951 and you find sports fans talking about the Shot Heard ‘Round the World. With just 10 weeks left in the season and 14 games back, the New York Giants’ appeared to be finished. In those 53 remaining days, they came roaring back, won game after game and, on the last day of the season, tied their crosstown rival Brooklyn Dodgers to force a 3 game playoff. The Giants won the first and the Dodgers the second. It came down to just one game. With one out remaining in the bottom of the 9th, down two runs, New York’s Bobby Thompson stepped to the plate. On the third pitch, he connected, driving it down the first base line just high enough to go over the fence for the game-winning home run. The Giants win. The Giants win. The announcer shouted. The sports world couldn’t believe the Giants had pulled off this miracle finish to win the National League Pennant. Most doubted any team could overcome those long odds.

Meanwhile, halfway across the U.S., there was another story just beginning. Just like the Giants, many would doubt him and others would dismiss him. But, to their dismay, this little guy beat 2 Million to 1 odds to become a world champion. That story is pretty incredible. After all, it is my story.

Let me tell you how it unfolded.

I was born in 1951 in Omaha, Nebraska when my mother, Ardella Rodgers, was just 14 years old. My first recollections found us living at 24th and Locust Streets in a one room apartment that my mom rented from Mrs. Pruitt. By day, Mrs. Pruitt was a mild mannered, thin, old lady who was as sweet as could be. She stood about 5 foot 5, was very high mannered, prim and proper and well dressed; exceptional in every way but for her mustache.

That was by day. But every night as we settled in to sleep in our upstairs apartment above her living room we saw a different side. The house was ordinary enough so you might not have suspected the terror we were about to experience.

As the sun set the darkness crept in to that humble house that mom and I called home. If this was a movie, you would hear the eerie music but we didn’t have that clue. We didn’t see the strange transformation about to come over Mrs. Pruitt. Much like the legendary Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, this mild mannered lady turned into a raving maniac, a wild haired, big eyed lunatic. It started suddenly. Mom tucked me in, said good night and turned out the light. We drifted off to a land of dreams, safe and secure. Like a crack of thunder, our peace was shattered.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump Thump Thump.

Get out of there.

Thump.

Thump.

Be gone. Leave me alone.

She shrieked, hollered and pounded that broom handle on her ceiling directly underneath our bedroom.

Mommy

What in the world?

Our serenity shattered, mom gathered me in her arms and tentatively went down the stairs to find a puzzling and horrifying site. That prim and proper woman was wild with rage, frantically poking a broom handle against the ceiling, screaming at the top of her lungs. .

Thump.

Thump.

GET OUT OF THERE. You don’t belong there. I want you gone.

Thump.

Thump.

I had never seen anyone act like this. I clutched my mom close as she said,

MRS. PRUITT. What are you doing?

He is hiding in there. I have to get him out.

Who is hiding in there?

My dead husband; he is hiding in the ceiling. He knows he needs to leave but he won’t. He is so stubborn.

Thump.

Thump.

Get. Get out of there.

I was scared – and confused. How could her husband be hiding in the ceiling? I was too young to realize that he had been dead for several years and that she believed his spirit inhabited the ceiling. In hindsight, it’s clear that she was suffering from some sort of mental illness. But at the time, all I knew was what she was saying. There was a boogie man hiding beneath our floor and I was scared to death of him.

We went back to bed but didn’t sleep a wink. I was frightened the boogie man was coming to get me and my mom was scared to death of Mrs. Pruitt.

The next morning all was quiet and the prim and proper elderly lady reappeared. It was if the night before had never happened.

My mom was young, only about 17 and we were trying to make our way in the world. I was just a little guy, only about 3 years old. Being a single mom is never easy but especially in Omaha during the 1950s. We just didn’t have many choices. Living in this house was all we could afford

During the day, things were fine. I played as any young boy would and found the world one big adventure. Mom was happy and Mrs. Pruitt was just as kind and loving as ever.

But when the sun went down, our peace would be shattered again.

I woke up terrified, thinking there really was someone living in our floorboards that could, at any time, attack us in our sleep. I was scared to death. I begged and pleaded, Mommy, I know that Boogie Man is coming to get us. Please, let’s get out of here.

Johnny, we have paid for one month in advance and we had no choice. We have to stay here.

But the Boogie Man lives here.

I know. We will be ok. She didn’t convince me but it was good to hear.

How did that boogie man get in there? I asked naively.

He is dead.

Dead? Do dead people fly? I figured he must be able to fly to get into the ceiling. That ceiling looked pretty high to a three year old boy.

I’m not sure honey.

Mommy, I’m scared.

I’m scared too but I’m more scared of Mrs. Pruitt than her dead husband. I have never seen him but I can sure hear Mrs. Pruitt beating that broomstick on the ceiling.

So there I was, one very scared little boy. Every night I worried myself sick. That wasn’t too hard because I was sick anyway. I struggled with asthma for as long as I could remember –it was the only thing I knew. After waking up in terror, I would try to breathe in but it was like sucking water through a clogged drain. I breathed so hard that it hurt. What was natural and easy for others was a struggle for me. I tried harder but that made my lungs burn and my chest hurt. I tried relaxing but couldn’t get enough air. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t get enough oxygen.

So every night I asked the same question.

Mommy, can’t we leave?

No Johnny. We paid for a month. We have to stay here. I told you that.

Mom did everything she could to calm me down, knowing my health concerns.

Johnny, breathe real deep. I tried but that only made my lungs hurt. There I was, scared to death, struggling to breathe, and feeling like my lungs were on fire.

So my earliest memories include crying myself to sleep and struggling to breathe every single night.

I remember my mom lying in bed crying too, which for me just made things worse.

Don’t cry mommy, you’re scaring me.

If she comes in here, I’m going to cut her. I was scared of the Boogie Man but she was scared of the crazy lady living down stairs. Every night, my mom locked the door and double checked it. Then she made sure her trusty butcher knife was positioned right by her bed. She reassured me, I will cut her if she comes in here. I will.

We cuddled together, both scared to death, listening to Mrs. Pruitt running around, screaming and yelling, chasing the ghost of her husband.

I laid there wishing we could leave.

This ritual continued for what seemed to be an eternity. Looking back it was probably only a few weeks or a month but that was forever in my young life. I lived in a constant state of fear.

Then one day my mom surprised me with me some welcomed news.

We are going to be moving over to grandma’s place today.

Really? We don’t have to be scared anymore?

No honey. We won’t have anything to be scared of anymore.

So we gathered our skimpy belongings and left. I lived there only a month but, to this day, my earliest memories are filled with fear of that boogie man hiding under our floor and his crazy wife determined to chase him out. What a way to start your life. I couldn’t wait to walk out that door for the last time.

Just like that my nightmare was over – or was it

DREAMING FROM