The perspective on Aaron Hernandez was simple: He was smart—smart enough to beat the system. But he could also be reckless, if not downright self-destructive.
“He was very, very immature,” an NFC personnel executive told Breer. “Urban did him right by having him follow Tebow, and he was such a follower. He could go in any direction. Everyone knew that if you didn’t keep an eye on him, he was an easy guy to persuade to do the wrong thing.”
According to Jonathan Clegg of the Wall Street Journal, a psychological profile assembled by a North Carolina scouting firm called Human Resource Tactics, at the request of several NFL teams, suggested that Aaron enjoyed “living on the edge of acceptable behavior,” and noted that he “may be prone to partying too much and doing questionable things that could be seen as a problem for him and his team.”
Hernandez had scored 10 out of 10 for focus, motivation, and mental quickness, 9 out of 10 for self-efficacy and receptiveness to coaching, and 7 out of 10 for dedication. “Hernandez sees himself as a football player above all else,” the report noted. “He will place a high priority on football and what it takes to be successful.” But in the category of “social maturity,” Aaron had scored an abysmal 1, and at the Combine, Aaron was finally forced to admit that the persistent rumors about his drug use were true.
“He admits it,” an NFL executive who spoke with Hernandez told Breer. “He had multiple positive tests, so he either had issues or he’s dumb. One or two tests? Fine. But four, five, six? Come on, now you’ve got an addiction. He’s not a bad kid. He just has an issue.”
Chapter 25
Aaron’s drug use was not the only strike against his character.
Scouts at the Combine traded rumors about gang activities Hernandez may have been involved in. According to Ian Rapoport, who covered the Patriots for the Boston Herald, Hernandez was “probably the most talented guy in the draft, but there were obvious questions going in. One was, is he in a gang? That was an obvious, legitimate concern. Did he have gang ties? What was his off-the-field life like? He definitely got into some trouble in Florida. And drug use was the other part of it. He failed a couple of drug tests in Florida. Florida said one. The Patriots said one. I was told it was four.”
“He failed a ton of drug tests,” says Albert Breer. “But look, 75 percent of the NFL smokes weed. The big thing is, is the guy going to be able to pass a drug test when he’s in the pros?”
Nevertheless, the scouts had to balance rumors they were hearing against Aaron’s undeniable abilities, his potential, and his willingness to take responsibility for at least some of his actions. At the time, the perception was that, under Urban Meyer’s tutelage, Aaron had begun to outgrow his destructive habits—although, in retrospect, it would look more like Urban Meyer had done an excellent job of managing Aaron’s worst impulses, and shielding him from those who encouraged those impulses.
“The staff in Florida didn’t want him going home on the weekends,” Breer says. “They tried to convince him to stay during breaks. And there was a lot of uneasiness about home football weekends, because the guys from Bristol would come down for home games.
“His dad had always insulated him from those people in Bristol. His dad had associated with them, I believe, and when his dad died, he was broken. The guys who were there for him were the gang guys. And that’s where the loyalty came in. Those guys had his back and it was important.
“There are probably a dozen guys in every draft who have gang ties. It’s not uncommon. Sometimes it’s serious. Other times, it’s friends they’re loyal to and they can separate—compartmentalize. Aaron’s background wasn’t completely bizarre. But it was enough to knock him down in the draft.”
Chapter 26
Pro Day workouts were showcases for NFL scouts. Players drilled, ran, worked out, and stood stock still to be measured. For most, it was their last chance to show the scouts what they could do.
In 2010, Pro Day in Gainesville took place on March 17. For Gators who thought they had a shot at the pros, the pressure was on.
The draft was just one month away.
Inside the Swamp, it felt like a cattle call. A hundred scouts swarmed around the stadium. Their stopwatches ticked like mosquitos. Their eyes scanned the field for breakout stars.
Tim Tebow hoped to have a better showing than he had had at the Combine. Humbled by his performance there, he would not be taking anything for granted. “I don’t know if I necessarily dreamed of this process ever being like this,” he told the Florida Times-Union. “It’s a little bit of a roller coaster.”
Tebow was not the only one feeling whiplash. Aaron Hernandez posted good numbers in the forty-yard dash: 4.56, 4.61. Better than the numbers that Oklahoma’s star tight end, Jermaine Gresham, had posted at the Combine. Hernandez beat Gresham in the speed drills and the bench press as well.
But teams still had serious questions about Aaron’s character. Hernandez knew that he would have to get ahead of the scouts’ reservations.
Growing up, Aaron had been a fan of Drew Bledsoe, the star quarterback for the New England Patriots. Now, he took his future into his hands. With the help of his agent, Hernandez wrote the Patriots’ director of player personnel, Nick Caserio, a personal letter:
“I am writing in regards to some of the feedback I am receiving from my agents, Florida coaches, and other personnel,” Aaron wrote. “These sources have indicated that NFL teams have questions about my alleged use of marijuana.”
Aaron had no problem with these questions, he told Caserio. But he did want to address them directly, and counter them with a simple proposition: If the New England Patriots would consent to draft him, he would consent to biweekly drug tests throughout his rookie season. Aaron offered to tie his 2010 earnings to these drug tests, and promised to reimburse the team “a pro-rata amount” for any tests that he failed.
“If I fail a drug test,” Hernandez wrote, “I do not deserve a portion of that money.
“I realize that this offer is somewhat unorthodox, but it is also the only way I could think of to let you know how serious I am about reaching my potential in the NFL.”
In other words, Hernandez said, he was “literally putting my money where my mouth is,” by shouldering the financial burden himself.
“Test me all you want during my rookie year,” Hernandez said in conclusion. “All of the results will be negative while I am having an overwhelmingly positive impact on the field.”
Hernandez must have known that, according to agreements the NFL Players Association had long since negotiated with the league, the Patriots would be prohibited from testing Aaron biweekly, or even bimonthly. Like all incoming NFL players, he would be tested yearly, on dates he would know about ahead of time.
Hernandez knew that, in practice, it was absurdly easy to smoke weed—even on a daily basis—while playing for the NFL.
But if Aaron’s letter amounted to little more than a goodwill gesture—a promise that could not, and would not, be enforced—it did speak to his willingness to at least address the rumors that swirled all around him.
Signing the letter “Sincerely,” Hernandez sent it off to the executive, sat back, and hoped for the best.
There was nothing more that Aaron could do now but wait.
Chapter 27
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell walked out onto the stage at Radio City Music Hall in New York City, looked up from his notes, and read out a name: “Sam Bradford.”
It was Thursday, April 22. The start of the 2010 draft.
Dozens of fans in the audience booed, but Bradford ignored them. The Oklahoma quarterback was thrilled. He hugged his family and waved at those who were cheering him on.