TAKE ME TO CHURCH
Deshaun Watson proves an MVP on Christian offensive line
“Never underestimate the heart of a champion.”
“We don’t have the will to succeed; we have the will to prepare.”
Pastor Kerry Shook — who leads Woodlands Church, the ninth-largest in the country — is quoting Rudy Tomjanovich and Bobby Knight in his sermon, “The DNA of a Champion.”
For a biblical soundbite, Shook references 1 Samuel 17:45 from the Old Testament:
“‘You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied,’ David tells Goliath.”
Shook adds the punchline: “That’s the first time that spiritual trash talk was ever used.”
The game plan for this Texas Tailgate Weekend has been in the works for a while. The outdoor setup on 1 Fellowship Drive looks like NRG Park on any given football Sunday — without the beer. Police direct traffic and good Samaritans shuttle the elderly and small children in golf carts to the sanctuary. Three food trucks, H-E-B stands and game booths curve around the sidewalk.
But at 9:30 a.m., the congregants are in their seats.
Shook is talking to a packed house on Father’s Day. After all, the church boasts a congregation of 18,000. And today, there’s a special draw.
“You’re not born with championship DNA,” Shook preaches, “it’s a DNA that you have to develop.”
As the lights dim, a player emerges — one who is developing that championship DNA in Houston.
Texans first-round pick Deshaun Watson strides onto the stage. The 21-yearold rookie quarterback is more than a college football national champion. Or even a two-time Davey O’Brien Award and Manning Award winner. He’s also MVP of the Christian faith’s offensive line.
Clad in a black T-shirt, black jeans and a pair of studded Louis Vuitton high tops, Watson is not underdressed. Many in the packed-house are wearing jerseys — some in Texans blue, others in orange for Clemson University, Watson’s alma mater.
Shook welcomes their guest and launches into a Q&A session, asking Watson how he feels about the draft.
“In situations like that, I let God control it because it’s out of my league,” Watson says.
“My agent was like, ‘Hopefully you can fall in the draft a little bit, and Houston can trade up and grab you.’ When I got the phone call, I just started crying. Best feeling ever.”
Watson’s teenage years were tough.
He grew up in government housing in Gainesville, Ga., about 70 miles outside of Atlanta. The projects were a hotbed of gang violence, and Deann Watson, a single mother of four, was determined to get her children out. She turned to Habitat for Humanity, putting in at least 300 volunteer hours on others’ homes before it was time to work on her own house. Deshaun was just 6, but he remembers the day they moved in; they were greeted by Atlanta Falcons running back Warrick Dunn, whose foundation had donated a house full of furniture for the family.
At age 14, Deann Watson was diagnosed with tongue cancer and had to spend about eight months at Emory Hospital in Atlanta. Deshaun saw his mother just twice in 10 months. But she communicated through the hospital staff who read aloud what she wrote down on paper. The teen cried every night.
Along with his older brother, Watson worked four jobs to help support their younger siblings.
“It was a blessing in disguise,” he says. “I matured quicker.”
He went on to become the Gainesville High School All-American “Player to Watch” and a “Top 100 Recruit.”
College life at Clemson went smoother. Watson, who joined the on-campus ministry Free Chapel, led the Tigers to back-to-back national title games.
“Let’s go be legendary,” he told teammates moments before his lastsecond, game-winning touchdown pass against No. 1 Alabama in January. But that’s all in the past. “Going from college to the NFL is a whole different environment, a whole different vibe. It’s a job now,” Watson acknowledges. “You’ve got to learn the playbook and be on time. They don’t tell you to be at practice in the morning. You either show up or you don’t.”
Shook’s closing remarks echo Watson’s humble sentiment:
“If you’re too big for the small moments, you’ll be too small in the big moments.”
When the pastor asks how the congregation can pray for him, Watson shares that he’s practicing good health and patience.
“Well,” Shook says, “we’re going to pray that you’ll lead the Texans to the Super Bowl, too.”
It’s likely that much of Houston shares in that prayer.
Watson throws a few signed footballs into the audience before the seas part, service over.
Now 11:30 a.m., congregants again pour in from the makeshift tailgate, which is jam-packed with families and die-hards.
A young couple clad in Clemson orange walks through the glass doors, and they pause, unsure of where to go.
“We’ve already seen at least 10 people we know from Clemson,” Melissa Rispoli says.
Her companion, Erik Ruediger, carries a handmade T-shirt that reads “Gamedays are 4 the boys.” He’s hoping for an opportunity to present the shirt to Watson.
The Tiger alums have lived in Houston for nearly three years but have yet to find a spiritual home. “We’re here to support Deshaun. We’re huge fans.”
That’s one way to get people to the church on time.
“Going from college to the NFL is a whole different environment, a whole different vibe. It’s a job now.” Deshaun Watson