Although he was in his first year in the NFL, Mayo knew what was expected. He played on, even though he couldn’t raise his arm above his head, even when the pain was so intense he knew he needed surgery. All the while, there was no mention of his shoulder on the team’s injury report.
He did not dwell on his status with his coaches, his teammates, and certainly not the media. The rookie understood his aches and pains were not for public consumption, nor were they an excuse for subpar play.
So on that November night, he chased down every moving Jets target he could, punishing himself as much as every running back and tight end he hauled down. When the game was over, Mayo had 23 tackles, 17 of them solo.
There was only a fleeting moment, when the defense came off the field and he plopped on the bench next to veteran linebacker Mike Vrabel, that Mayo let down his guard and groaned. He was tired, he was hurting, and so was his team.
“The kid was really banged up,’’ Vrabel said. “And still he was flying around the field, hitting guys.’’
The rookie’s respite lasted only seconds before coach Bill Belichick pulled off his headset and called out, “Mayo! Let’s go. Special teams.’’ Mayo jammed his helmet back on, steeling himself for another round of jarring hits. As he sprinted onto the field, Vrabel’s urgent voice stopped him in his tracks. “No!’’ Vrabel barked at Belichick. “Put someone else in for Mayo.’’
Later, when the rookie replayed the scene in his head, he couldn’t decide what was more stunning: that Vrabel overruled the coach or that Belichick actually listened and subbed in another player.
“I thought I had seen everything,’’ Mayo said. “But every day with the Patriots, there was something new.’’
Mayo’s transition from college ball at the University of Tennessee to pro football had been grueling. Belichick and his staff were demanding, relentless. The veteran players, each one more decorated than the next, challenged him daily.
