high praise for John Johnson

A father’s words, and candy-selling ingenuity, led Rams’ John Johnson to the brink of stardom

Vincent Bonsignore

https://theathletic.com/985260/2019/05/

From snap to finish, the most important play in the young life of John Johnson lasted eight seconds. Or about as long as it takes to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

But it was a lifetime in the making. And it unfolded methodically through the eyes of Johnson, the Rams’ talented young safety.

Everything culminated in a remarkable moment during overtime of the NFC Championship Game, when a pass from the Saints’ Drew Brees fell into the waiting arms of Johnson, altering the course of two franchises and stunning millions of fans into anguish, triumph and disbelief.

It was the first high-profile moment for Johnson, who has spent far too many of his 24 years either flying under the radar or overcoming preconceived notions. He wasn’t big enough or fast enough to attract the attention of college scouts. The public high school he attended wasn’t a recruiting hotbed, like most of the private schools in the area. Someone else was always rated higher or perceived to be better. He didn’t have an established position. Sure he was a good college player, but would he translate to the NFL?

All of that led Johnson to always size up situations and take measured, deliberate and almost stealth steps toward his desired destination. That he always seems to get there is a tribute to his problem-solving skills, seeds that were planted and nurtured by his father, John II, who was forever stressing to his bright, curious son the importance of confronting situations in an intellectual way rather than being intimidated to the point of giving up.

“Troubleshoot. Figure out a solution,” Johnson remembers his dad telling him. “The answers are there.”

The inquisitive Johnson was attracted to that part of life like a bee to flowers. His father’s words still ring loudly in his ears.

That’s how a skinny, one-star recruit from Northwestern High School in Hyattsville, Md., eventually landed a scholarship to Boston College. And how that undersized prospect then immersed himself in the film room, classroom, weight room and practice field to mentally command and physically conquer a slew of defensive positions in order to slug his way to the top of the Eagles’ depth chart and eventually emerge as a coveted NFL prospect. He also graduated on time with a degree in communications.

Boston College was 2-10 the year before Johnson and his recruiting class arrived. They went to three bowl games in Johnson’s four years, including a win over his hometown college, Maryland, in the Quick Lane Bowl his senior year.

The Eagles were closing in on bowl eligibility before getting blown out against Louisville and Clemson late in that 2016 season, and with two games remaining, Johnson stood in front of his teammates during a meeting and poured his heart out, imploring them to finish the year strong.

“Everybody in the room was pretty much brought to tears because everybody in the room thought the same way about him,” said Anthony Campanile, then the Eagles’ defensive backs coach. “He’s just a man’s man. It was all about how much he loved the team, and he wasn’t embarrassed to talk about that. He told them how important the team was to him, and how he wanted to leave a legacy there, for the program.”

They won their last two regular-season games and the bowl game.

That’s how a 2017 third-round pick overcame a groin injury that sidelined him most of training camp — and left him low-key worried he wouldn’t make the team — to quickly pick up the nuances of the Rams’ defense. By the fifth game of his rookie year, Johnson was named the starting free safety. In his first career start, he returned an interception 69 yards against Seattle.

Johnson earned so much confidence from the Rams’ defensive coaches during his second season — mentally and physically — that they confidently lined him up at every defensive backfield position, plus inside linebacker and defensive line, knowing he could adeptly handle the various assignments.

“His physical talents are matched by his intellect,” Rams secondary coach Aubrey Pleasant said, “and that allows him to do multiple things and it allows us to come up with multiple game plans at different positions. We’re able to take advantage of that flexibility.

“There’s a difference between understanding what we’re trying to do, and being able to do it in a very stressful environment,” Pleasant continued. “It’s easy to be able to do it in practice when the timing and environment is much slower. But to be able to do it in a game and to be able to switch in between and during a series is just a kudos to who he is as a person, his ability to handle stressful situations and his versatility.”

It’s made Johnson one of the most versatile — and best — safeties in the NFL. Johnson was a Pro-Bowl and All-Pro snub last year while racking up 119 tackles and four interceptions, but that will change with a repeat performance in 2019.

He understands the process of having to wait your turn, especially as a second-day draft pick. That doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

“I think I deserve it. That’s the only problem,” he said. “If I thought I was reaching for it, that would be one thing. But I’m right there, so I really want to accomplish it.”

With performance and accolades, the money usually follows. Johnson has two years remaining on his rookie contract, but the Rams are already preparing for a payday reflective of an emerging star.

Given the way safeties got paid last offseason, Johnson is positioning himself for a huge bump. Landon Collins ($44.5 million guaranteed), Earl Thomas ($32 million guaranteed) and Tyrann Mathieu ($26 million guaranteed) helped reset the safety market in a way that will certainly benefit Johnson.

He has seamlessly taken to Los Angeles, a city that offers an abundance of options to pique his eclectic personality, and he envisions it being a long-term fit, including an eventual segue into the entertainment industry. However, Johnson figures to be a highly-coveted free agent in a couple of years, and the Rams will have to pay accordingly.

“The way the market is going, safeties got paid this year,” Johnson said. “If they can repeat that next year, by the time it gets to me, it might be crazy. But my mindset is to get better every season and just keep building.”

There wasn’t a lot of recruiting love being shown to football players at Northwestern High in 2011. A public school, Northwestern was forever overshadowed by the more heralded private schools nearby, such as DeMatha, Gonzaga and St. John’s.

“The private schools really run the scene,” Johnson said.

But the coaches at Northwestern, including assistant Steve Rapp, were convinced they had a couple college prospects in running back Darius Victor and Johnson, a rail-thin junior who was emerging as a sort of do-it-all ace. Rapp envisioned Johnson as a Division I safety. But getting enough college scouts to believe him, let alone get them on campus to see him for themselves, was a challenge.

With the help of the fast-thinking Johnson, Rapp cooked up two ideas. First, they’d put together a local seven-on-seven team to compete in showcase events up and down the east coast. Second, they’d try to get Johnson to as many college camps as possible, in order to put his talents on display against other prospects. If the college recruiters wouldn’t come to Northwestern to see Johnson, they would take Johnson to the recruiters.

One major problem: The endeavor required major financing. And when Rapp added up all the gas, motel, food and tournament fee money needed to make it happen, well, it looked pretty bleak.

To offset costs, Johnson and the other prospects would fundraise by selling candy at school. Rapp would schlep to the local Costco to buy bulk-sized boxes of candy, and then Johnson and his teammates would sell it to classmates. All profits would go directly to Rapp to cover travel costs. Johnson soon realized everyone was trying to sell the same two variety boxes.

“One was more chocolatey. The other more sugary,” Johnson said. “I mean you could sell them, but, like, people were getting tired of it.”

The result was a glutted market, too much leftover inventory and a slow-growing travel account.

Johnson has never let a problem get the best of him, or rely on others to figure out a solution. His mother, Tanya, remembers waking up well before dawn to get ready for work and noticing a light on in Johnson’s room. When she’d peek in, her son was already awake and ready to go to school, usually preparing for a test or finishing up lingering homework from the night before.

And while some kids need to be reminded to ask their parents to fill out necessary paperwork for school activities or field trips, Johnson would hand his mom and dad completely filled-out permission slips that merely needed their signature.

“He was just so independent from an early age,” Tanya Johnson said. “Almost like a little man.”

When it came time to start thinking about college, Johnson took the initiative to research requirements, test dates and financial help. His parents were always available and willing to help, but Johnson always seemed a step or two ahead. That included alleviating any of their concerns.

“I can remember one time telling him — and being a little bit worried — that, ‘Hey, it might be tough, you might have to work a little extra. But we’re going to do everything we can to send you to college,’” his mother said. “And he looked at me and said, rather easily, ‘Mom, don’t worry about it. I’m going to college. Everything is going to be fine.’ He always seemed to have everything under control and figured out.”

So when Johnson was confronted with an oversaturated candy market, he put his problem-solving skills to work. Like his dad told him, the answers were there.

Johnson immediately concluded he needed to establish a new market that set him apart. So he instructed Rapp to start buying him boxes of Hershey cookies and cream bars, a much less-prominent candy but, as Johnson instinctively knew, one that would resonate with his hungry classmates if only because of their uniqueness.

“He’s never one to do what everyone else is doing,” Tanya Johnson said. “He’s always been someone that wanted to be slightly different. Or put a different spin on things. He actually had a saying for it, he’d say, ‘I’ll finesse it.’”

To say his plan worked is an understatement.

“I’d get a 30-box, and I can remember being done before school even started,” John Johnson said. “The cookies and cream were so good. And I know a lot of dentists appreciate me because I was selling them like crazy.”

Meanwhile, the money was rolling in.

“We were moving so much candy (the school) almost had to tell us to stop,” remembers Victor, laughing. “They thought we were running some illegal scheme. And we’d compete with each other to see who could sell the most candy. It’d be like, ‘You only sold one box of candy today? Come on man, you’ve gotta step it up.’”

It was Johnson who surged to the top of the sales board.

“The cookies and cream were it, man,” Victor said. “Once John had that, he was moving. To the point where kids were upset they didn’t get any because they sold out so fast. If you didn’t get those before lunchtime, you weren’t going to get any. The cookies and cream were definitely the hottest item.”

The profits they raised enabled Johnson and his teammates to take summer and weekend trips. They hit up many colleges on the east coast, traveling by van throughout Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Carolinas and everywhere in between to drum up attention.

“We talked about everything on those car rides,” Rapp remembers. “From who’s better, LeBron or Kobe, to where did Jordan fit in all of this? Where do you see yourself playing? What kind of new uniforms should we get? Who’s the best DB in our area? Who’s the best quarterback? I don’t think there was anything left out, by the end of it, that we didn’t cover. Or that I didn’t know about them or them about me.”

It all paid off the summer before Johnson’s senior year when Boston College offered a scholarship. Victor, who eventually spent time in the Saints and Arizona Cardinals organizations, was offered by Towson State.

“It was a fight to get recruited. It wasn’t easy,” Johnson said. “And for coach Rapp to see something in me and to take the necessary steps for me to get where I needed to get, I appreciate him, I owe him and I’m forever grateful. I’m forever in his debt. Anything he needs from me, he knows there’s no hesitation. I’m there.”

John Johnson was a skinny sophomore when he first showed up to Michael Johnson’s Northwestern High gym class in the fall of 2010. But it didn’t take long before two things stood out. John was the best athlete in the class and also the most personable and engaging. Almost immediately, all the other kids began following his lead.

“There was a light about him that you couldn’t help but notice,” said Michael, who John was soon referring to as “Pops” due to their shared last name. “He was always like that, and he could always set himself apart, in any situation. He had the ability to think beyond what everyone else was doing and say, ‘Well maybe if I do things this particular way, it will be better.’ But it was never in a condescending or selfish way. It was always his drive to do well and be the best. But also while being someone people naturally liked and were drawn to.”

Something similar was unfolding across campus in Andre Lee’s TV Production class, where John Johnson was flourishing in front of and behind the cameras. His signature project was a spoof reenactment of a earthquake that hit in Hyattsville in 2012. Johnson produced, directed and acted in the short film that Lee still talks about.

“He played the lead character, a teacher, and it was one of the best reenactments that I’ve ever seen in my class. It was outstanding.” Lee said. “He was creative, engaging, confident. Everything you’d want a student to be.”

Johnson, Lee and pretty much everyone in Hyattsville with a connection to Johnson anxiously awaited the Rams’ NFC Championship Game against the Saints last January. And while Michael Johnson wouldn’t normally intrude with a text message on such an important day, something was eating at him as he slipped on his No. 43 Rams jersey while preparing to host a watch party at his house.

It was a premonition of sorts.

“You’re going to be great today!” he typed to John Johnson.

It was two hours before kickoff. He didn’t expect a response.

Then his phone buzzed. It was a text message from his former student.

“I’m ready! Let’s go get it!”

If one pass play gave the Rams’ defense trouble last year, it came on the over route when two receivers run essentially the same pattern but at different depths to force the defense to protect both the under and over elements.

“It had been the name of the game of the whole league,” Johnson said. “The Chiefs killed us on that play. And a couple of other teams got big gains with that play.”

Johnson eyeballed the Saints as they lined up at their 34-yard-line in overtime and paid close attention to star receiver Mike Thomas, who lined up as the middle man in the Saints’ three-receiver set to the right of Brees.

“That’s who they’re throwing the ball to,” Johnson thought to himself.

In his head, he heard his father’s words: Figure out a solution.

Up in the Rams’ coaches booth, Pleasant sensed the Saints were trying to force the Rams into a man-zone read, then run Thomas on a deep over route.

Johnson was prepared.

At the snap, Thomas immediately released inside, across the face of Rams inside linebacker Mark Barron. He was heading toward Johnson’s side of the field.

Johnson braced himself, believing the play was coming his way. And with it, a chance to alter the game.

“Once he started coming into my zone, I’m thinking I’m either going to have to make a play on the ball or I’m going to have to tackle him,” Johnson said. “I’m going to have to do something because they’re going to want to get him the ball. It’s overtime. They’re trying to move the ball.”

Near the 45-yard-line, Thomas leaned to the right, trying to get Johnson, who was now in a one-on-one situation with Thomas, to overcommit. If so, Thomas could break back to his left and be wide open.

But Johnson was up to the challenge. And when Thomas made a hard cut back inside, Johnson deftly regrouped with a fundamentally sound adjustment and stayed with him.

Unbeknownst to Thomas, who had his back to the line of scrimmage, Rams outside linebacker Dante Fowler Jr. executed a perfect spin move on Saints right tackle Ryan Ramczyk. As Fowler came out of his turn, he was right in the face of Brees, who was cocking his arm to throw. Fowler raised his arms and was able to hit Brees just enough to alter the trajectory of the ball.

Johnson, still facing the line of scrimmage, had a huge advantage as he could see this developing. Out of the corner of his eye, just as he was making a move to close in on Thomas, Johnson saw the ball take an odd flight upward.

“I didn’t know how it happened, exactly, but I knew something happened, the way the ball went up in the air,” Johnson said. “Thomas didn’t see it. But I saw it. That was the beauty of it.”

In a split second, Johnson’s objective changed from breaking up the pass or tackling Thomas to making an interception. Then, he and Thomas collided. It ended up being a massive break for the Rams, as it nudged Johnson backward and into a better position to make an interception. Johnson continually kept his head up and his eyes on the ball even as he stumbled, butt first, to the ground.

“That ball was up there forever,” Johnson remembers. “And all I was thinking was catch it. Give us a chance. Usually, when you drop one of those, bad things happen. So all I’m thinking is catch it, make the play. Give the offense a chance to go win the game.”

Upstairs in the coaches booth, Pleasant watched Johnson do everything correctly, from making the correct pre-snap read to executing his responsibility within the play call to making an aggressive, attacking play on the ball to securing the interception even while falling backward.

It was fitting, in a way.

Three months earlier, Brees and Thomas repeatedly burned the Rams for 12 catches, 211 yards and a touchdown, the biggest dagger coming on a 72-yard touchdown late in the fourth quarter to secure the Saints’ 45-35 win and, ultimately, home-field advantage throughout the playoffs.

As much of a team loss as it turned out to be, most of the blame fell on the secondary.

“That game didn’t end the way we wanted to. And it ended on our behalf,” Pleasant said. “So for John to come back like that, at that moment, in that kind of game … it was redemption for our room.”

As Johnson rose after the interception, he celebrated by skipping down the field doing his version of the “Choppa Style” dance, using his hands, stretched wide, to rev up imaginary handlebars. It was a gut kick to the Saints, who claimed the dance as their own all season.

The Mercedes-Benz Superdome, which had been cranked up with deafening noise the entire game, fell ominously silent.

Well, except for the Rams’ family section, where Victor and Johnson’s parents celebrated wildly.

It grew even quieter a few minutes later, when Greg Zuerlein boomed a game-winning, 57-yard field goal to send the Rams to the Super Bowl.

A little over 1,000 miles away, it was an entirely different story in the Prince George County town that reared Johnson and proudly claims him as its favorite son.

“I was going crazy. And my phone was blowing up like I made the interception,” Rapp said. “I had the phone in one hand, running around the house, my wife and kids are screaming. You would have thought that interception happened in our house. It was crazy.”

Across town, Michael Johnson was overcome with emotions.

“When the ball was floating through the air I was screaming, somebody get it, somebody get it,” Johnson said. “And when I saw someone dive for it and roll over and that it was number 43, I was yelling, ‘It’s John! It’s John! He did it. He did it. I was jumping up and down.

“I still get goosebumps even now. But when John came up with the interception, I literally cried.”

While most of the Rams players remained on the field celebrating, John Johnson retreated to the locker room to gather himself. Upon picking up his phone, he saw hundreds of missed calls and text messages.

“I’m surprised my phone didn’t freeze up,” he said laughing.

Back home in Los Angeles the next day, as things were finally quieting down and the events of the previous 24 hours began to settle in, Johnson’s phone buzzed.

It was a text message from Pops, his high school gym teacher back in Hyattsville.

It read, simply: “I told you!”