By Teresa Varley

For Steelers Digest

Story was originally published in Steelers Digest.

 

"If I got in trouble people would push it aside because I was a good athlete. That was a downfall for me. I never had to be accountable for my actions. Someone always cleaned it up for me. I always thought someone would bail me out." – Bam Morris

* * *

 

It was 1994, and life was good for Bam Morris.

 

He was a running back drafted by the Steelers, which gave him the chance to fulfill his dream of playing pro football, and his rugged style got him onto the field quickly while his engaging personality quickly endeared him to Steelers fans.

 

"It was the exciting part of my life," said Morris, who went from winning the Doak Walker Award at Texas Tech to the NFL spotlight seemingly instantaneously. "When you come into the league you see all of the guys you watched on television. You never thought you would get the chance to play with them. When it was going good, you couldn't do anything wrong in the city of Pittsburgh. Everybody loved you, you were a winner and on a great team. I loved every minute of it."

 

The problem was he loved some of the wrong things a bit too much.

 

Morris' life away from football was a train wreck waiting to happen. It was all about partying, going to clubs, drinking, staying out all night, and drugs.

 

Football offered the financial means for this lifestyle, and friends from home whom he brought with him were the enablers. They were living the high life on his dime, all the while encouraging him to enjoy it right along with them.

 

"I definitely regret bringing those cats to Pittsburgh," Morris said about his friends from Lubbock. "You always say if you make it in the NFL, you're going to keep it real in the hood. You aren't going to turn your back on them because you're making money. Looking back, that's what I wish I would have done. You're an NFL player and have to take it to the next level, and so you can't bring your boys from the hood with a thug mentality along with you. Those don't mix. They don't go together."

 

A pattern began to develop. Morris would be late for meetings. He would be tired and inattentive when he showed up. He wasn't giving the extra effort. He didn't like putting in time in the weight room. And none of it went unnoticed.

 

"There were times when Coach (Bill) Cowher called me in the office," said Morris. "Coach told me the way I was living my life, I wouldn't last five years in the league. He was close to right, I lasted six. Everything I was doing, Coach Cowher saw it. But when you're 22 you think they don't know what they're talking about. It was going in one ear and out the other."

 

His teammates also noticed the direction Morris' life was taking. Kevin Greene tried to talk to him. John L. Williams tried. But he didn't listen. Even when he got an offer of help from an unexpected source, he didn't take advantage of it.

"After my rookie year, Neil O'Donnell tried to get me to move in with him," said Morris. "He told me I would just have to watch the dogs. I told him I wasn't moving in with him. It was obvious

I was in that lifestyle of partying and having a good time. The people around me saw it. I had people trying to help me, but when you're in the life and you're partying and the people you grew up with are in Pittsburgh with you 24/7, you don't think about help."

 

After two seasons of feeling invincible, the reality of his lifestyle started to catch up to Morris. During a traffic stop in Rockwell, Texas, just months after Morris was the leading rusher in the

Super Bowl, pounds of marijuana were found in the trunk of his car. A first-time offender, Morris was cut some slack by the courts; he got probation. Stay out of trouble, stay away from drugs, no alcohol.

 

It seemed easy enough. It wasn't.

 

* * *

"To see it now, I had to be one of the dumbest players of all time. Football is fun, but it's also a business. If you don't come to practice or are late, you don't play. I respect the game now." – Bam Morris

* * *

The Steelers waived Morris, and he signed with the Baltimore Ravens. His friends went with him, and it was more of the same thing in a different city. Morris tested positive for alcohol in January 1997, a probation violation that got him jail time.

 

"That didn't scare me at all. I wasn't scared," said Morris. "I didn't fear anything then. I was still doing the same things. My same friends were still around me. You never need those types of guys around you, the male groupies, the ones who tell you how great things are going."

 

His football career continued to spiral downhill. The Ravens let him go, and he had a brief stint with the Bears, and then with the Kansas City Chiefs.

 

"Football wasn't the same once I left Pittsburgh," admitted Morris. "I was playing just to get money. When I left Pittsburgh, I lost the love for football. It was never the same. I wasn't enjoying playing ball anymore."

 

His problems finally came to a head in 2000 when Morris pleaded guilty to a marijuana smuggling scheme. This time, it wasn't jail. It was prison.

 

* * *

"I always blamed everybody for my mistakes, I always had an excuse. When I look in the mirror I now know I was the fool. It was my fault. I had to come to terms with that. That helped me become a different person." – Bam Morris

* * *

Morris went to the federal prisons in Leavenworth, Kan., and then Beaumont, Texas, for two years. It was a wake-up call, but not quite the kick in the pants he would need.

 

"The federal is like a Cadillac where you have televisions, phones, air conditioning," said Morris. "You watch movies on the weekends. The only thing you are missing is your freedom. You have longer visiting hours."

 

But another fact of life in prison was that Morris was a target because he was a celebrity.

 

"I had guys wanting to fight me. I had to fight," said Morris. "People wanted to fight me because I was an ex-football player. They told me I lost them money in the Super Bowl. They were fighting me over that. Others told me how stupid I was. I always had to defend myself."

 

After his bit in federal prison, Morris was transferred to the state prison in Huntsville, Texas. This was hell on earth.

 

"The situation I was in then really got my attention," said Morris, who spent his first 30-plus days in the Byrd Diagnostic Unit. "When you're at Byrd you're in the cell 22 hours a day. There was no air. It was so hot. I would take everything but my boxers off, I had a little fan and I would wet my sheets in the sink, put it on the floor, put water on me and have the fan blow on me to stay cool.

 

"That was the toughest time. I didn't think I would make it out of there. I thought I was going to lose my mind. My mom always said God only gives us what we can bear. She told me to keep praying."

 

He then spent the next 21.2 years in the Wynne Unit where he started to make changes in his life. He was beyond out of shape, once tipping the scales at 342. He played handball, worked out and got down to 227 pounds. He also made a promise to his mother, Marie, that he would make something positive come from his time there.

 

"I was determined when I came home I wouldn't be the same person," said Morris. "I was determined to make a change for the better. I knew I couldn't put my parents in that situation again. I could never put my family through the heartache and disappointment I did before."

 

Morris was released from prison on July 31, 2004. He is living a new life, staying clean, staying in shape, steering clear of those "old friends." He is talking to junior high and high school kids, sharing his mistakes with them. He wrote a book while he was in prison and is hoping to get a book deal. He wants to become a personal trainer. And for the first time, he is doing things for himself, the simple things he never did before.

 

"I do a lot of things for myself," said Morris. "I clean, I wash dishes. I never did those things. When I was in the state prison I did everything from hauling hay to shoveling hog manure, to picking chicken eggs. That was a humbling experience, but it made me realize I can't depend on people doing things for me. I had to be a man and do it myself." "When I left

 

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