One time, an editor sent me out to a charity basketball game to interview Von Miller. I got there and didn’t spot him. After scouring the benches, there were a couple that kind of looked like him but I wasn’t sure. Then a 6-foot-3 dude walked through the door with his pectorals bulging out of his shirt and long arms that were thicker than my head.
It’s like that with almost NFL player. You can identify them as soon as they walk through the door. They’re taller and wider than everyone around them, yet have complete control of their bodies. It’s amazing. At times I can’t stop thinking to myself, ‘Holy crap. This guy is huge.’
I’ve never stood around Golden Tate, but I can guarantee he’s an exception. He’s listed at 5-foot-10, 195 pounds. He’s not tall. Muscular, yes, but not cartoonish. Yet, the man belongs on a football field.
The dirty truth of sports is that the players don’t care as much as you do. Some don’t care at all and play just because they’re good at it. Others care but not as much. Others care in a different way. Peyton Manning wants to be the best at his position. Tom Brady wants to win.
Golden Tate wants to destroy you.
I’ve experienced half a season of Golden Tate. On his own he doesn’t seem all that spectacular. He runs some routes and catches some balls just like every other receiver. In press conference videos he’s incredibly well-spoken and gives solid answers. He seems nice. But get somebody in his face, make the game seem out of reach, challenge him in any sort of way, and a monster emerges.