Staying Humble
Chris Orr and Tom Hager
In Partnership with Athletes For God
As soon as I heard the news, I put my head right on Dad’s shoulder and cried.
I was sitting in the trainer’s room inside Lambeau Field, with my dad next to me, trying to process what had just happened. It was the season opener of my sophomore year at Wisconsin, and as soon as it had begun it was already over.
In reality, my sophomore season had lasted about seven seconds.
I remember being out there for the opening kickoff, and I still remember watching the ball hang in the air to my left as LSU called for a fair catch. As the players came running on the field for the first play, you could feel the excitement in the air. I had been looking forward to this game the entire offseason. Our entire team had. And if I’m guessing, so had LSU’s.
Here we were, playing in football’s most historic venue, with a national television audience watching at home. The game was extra special for us, because it was just a 2.5 hour drive from Madison, and when you looked out at the audience, you could tell the Grateful Red had taken over Lambeau Field.
LSU handed the ball off to Leonard Fournette on the first play, and as I made contact with their fullback, I could feel something was wrong. It felt like somebody had stabbed the inside of my knee.
I went down immediately, and as the trainers helped me off the field, I was just hoping that it wasn’t the worst case scenario. They brought me inside the trainer’s room, and despite all the commotion, my Dad had found his way inside the room as well. He was the only one of my family members who was able to make the trip, and he watched intently as the trainers began to work on me.
After confirming that I didn’t fracture my kneecap, they put me in a brace and taped me up to do some tests. At first I honestly thought things were going to be okay…I was able to jump with no problem, and as I began to lightly jog around the room, I started to feel more confident. Maybe things were going to be okay. Even as I picked up the pace a little bit and started cutting harder, I still believed I was going to get back out on that field.
This definitely hurts, but I can do this.
But before they were going to let me back out on that field, they needed to run one more test. They had me put all my weight on my right leg, and this was going to be the moment of truth.
And when I tried to support myself on one leg, I collapsed.
I turned to my dad as the tears streamed down my face. I would definitely be missing the rest of this game, and there was no sign of when I would get to return. Then again, this wasn’t the first time I had faced adversity at Wisconsin, nor would be it be the last. My name is Chris Orr and this is my story.
The one nice thing about that day was that my Dad understood what I was going through.
Terry Orr played for 9 years in the NFL, most of which were with the Washington Redskins. He won two Super Bowls before breaking four bones in his lower back in 1993. That forced him into an early retirement, and even though my injury was not career-ending, he still knew how much this was killing me.
But he also knew how much it was killing my teammates that I wasn’t out there.
“You know you’re an emotional leader,” he told me in the trainer’s room. “These guys are going to look to you to lead.”
I ended up changing and getting right back out there on the sidelines. I knew our team still had a big game to play, against the #5 team in the country, and I wanted to be out there supporting them. And when they saw me out there, I don’t think they had any idea that I was crying five minutes earlier.
I should have known that my Dad knew just what to say, because he’s the reason I’m even where I’m at today.
Believe it or not, he never pushed me into football. Even when I did decide to play, he wasn’t having me do drills in our backyard, or molding me into the player he wanted me to be. The only thing he said was that if you’re going to do this, you need to do it all the way. I’m pretty sure that’s why all three of my older brothers – Terrance, Zach and Nick – went on to play Division 1 football. Terrance played at Texas State, Nick played at TCU, and Zach played at North Texas.
I grew up in the Lone Star State as well, but there was definitely a part of me that wanted to carve out my own path and do something unique. My first thought was to attend the University of Miami, but this was back when they were still “The U”. By the time I had finished my junior year, I knew where I wanted to go.
I wanted to be a Wisconsin Badger.
It was the perfect place for me, even if it had the exact opposite weather of Miami. I still remember one morning my freshman year when it really hit me…we had just come back a few days earlier from winter break, and as I was walking with one of my teammates to morning workouts, I realized I couldn’t open my eyes all the way. I tried blinking, and I couldn’t. One of my teammates was saying “something is wrong with your eyes, with your eyelashes” and he took a picture of my eyes. That’s when I saw.
I had icicles coming off my eye lashes. In my case they were eyecycles.
But even when the weather was terrible, it was still the place I wanted to be. My department of life sciences communication was one of the top in the country. Plus this was the same school J.J. Watt, Russell Wilson, and Chris Borland attended. This was the land of Bascom Hill and Jump Around. I was definitely in the right place.
That first season reinforced all the reasons why I wanted to be here. Not only did we win 10 games, but I started in six games and made 46 tackles. It was proof that I could make it, despite all the naysayers who said I was too small to play in the Big 10, or that I would never be anything like my brothers. I was living out my dream.
That is, until I almost died.
When most people have a near-death experience, they know it right away. Mine was more subtle, and I didn’t know until a few days later just how close I came to losing my life.
It was the week leading up to the Illinois game my freshman year, and midway through the week everything seemed fine. Then on Thursday night I began to feel sick. I had the chills, I was sweating, and my body was aching. I could also feel that I was just weak, and that next morning I decided to talk with my trainers. They took my temperature, and sure enough I was at 104. Our normal body temperature is 98.7, so even though it was definitely high, it’s nothing too alarming as long as it stays there.
The problem was that it didn’t stop. They took me to hospital, where my temperature was something like 108.2 degrees.
They put me on IV fluids to stabilize my temperature, and they had me take Ibuprofen to reduce any inflammation. As all this was happening my teammates were doing their team meetings and walk throughs before flying down to Champaign for the game. My trainers told that they didn’t know if I was going to play yet, but they had me drink electrolytes and put me on a set schedule of when to take more Ibuprofen. I was still determined to play in this game, so each time my alarm went off, I was taking another pill. Reset the alarm. Wait. Swallow. Reset. Hour after hour.
The trainers somehow got my temperature down enough to where I could play in the game. I only had two tackles, but at least I was out there. More importantly our team won. Things were starting to improve.
But before my trainers could be sure, they took my temperature when we got back to Madison. It was Sunday morning at this point, and when they looked at the thermometer, it read 105. That’s when they said we need to go to the hospital.
When we got back, the doctors were not messing around. I had an abscess on the inner part of my shin, and when we got into the hospital, the doctors looked at it and said we need to cut this. My wound had become infected, and without modern medicine, who knows what would have happened…Even with the quick action by the medical staff, I still had to sit out a few games and wait as the wound healed. Ironically enough, Ezekiel Elliot was suffering from the same injury at the same time. I’m hoping his wasn’t as bad as mine.
I returned, but not before missing three games in the heart of our Big 10 schedule. Nevertheless, I was lucky to just be alive. They didn’t tell me until after I got out of the hospital, but at 107 degrees, you can be in a coma, and a temperature of 109 will usually result in death. When they told me that, I was just blown away. I almost immediately started praying, just thanking God for protecting me. If it wasn’t for Him and my passion to get out on the field again, who knows what that infection could have done to me. Sometimes you don’t realize how lucky you are to just be on this Earth until it’s nearly taken away from you. I returned to the team with a new determination to live my life to the fullest, and put as many smiles on people’s faces as I can.
Even if behind closed doors I was struggling.
As I’ve grown in my relationship with God, I’ve realized one thing…being a Christian does not mean the road is easy. It doesn’t mean everything goes your way, and it doesn’t mean your adversities come to an end. In fact, sometimes the road becomes a lot more difficult, because the right thing to do isn’t always the easy thing.
When I got injured in the LSU game, I knew I was going to miss time…I just didn’t know for how long. I had worked so hard to overcome the infection, and I had put in all that work just to get back to my 100 percent, only to be carried off the moment I was back on the field. I tried to stay optimistic about the diagnosis, but when we finally ran the tests, it confirmed my worst fears. I had torn my ACL.
Meanwhile, my team had just went from unranked to being in the Top 10 with that upset over LSU, and I needed to keep up with their enthusiasm. I couldn’t have my teammates be sad every time they saw me, so I tried my hardest to keep things light and make them smile.
Even if I was actually crying when I got back to my room.
There was also the physical toll, because I had to rehab my right leg. I would get up at 4 or 4:30 in the morning, and make the 30-minute trek down to the McClain Center for work with the trainers. Nobody wants to get up at 4 in the morning for anything, but if this was what it took to get back on that field with my teammates, then this was what I was going to do. I was just trying to flex my quad and kick my leg up, signs that showed I was on the right track.
Some days were harder than others. Game Days were particularly difficult, because I wanted so badly to be out there with my teammates. Those times on the field are precious, because when you think about it, you work 365 days a year for 12 hours of actual game time. I basically was there for moral support on Saturday afternoons, and during the week I was breaking down film for our defensive staff. I was basically another coach at that point.
I’d have a streak of good days where I felt like I was fine, until I’d see something trigger that raw emotion in me all over again. I didn’t resent God for the ACL injury, but I definitely remember questioning His timing.
Whey the first play of the season? Why couldn’t have I at least played a quarter?
I was clearly struggling to cope with things, but sometimes it’s good to feel that strongly about something, because when you care that much it can also bring the best out of you…I remember after the ACL diagnosis my pastor had called me and told me that this was going to be an important time in my life. I didn’t know how that was going to manifest itself, but I got my answer when I received another phone call – this time from my brother Terrance. He knew that I wasn’t myself, and in one instant he flipped everything around on me.
“Instead of asking God why,” he told me, “picture God asking you why not?”
At first I blew it off, like man I’m not trying to hear that right now. Then it really started to sink in. Maybe he was right. God is obviously placing something on your shoulder, Terrance told me, and He thinks you’re courageous and strong enough to handle it. The injury was kind of a blessing in disguise, because it forced me to find myself outside of football. When you grow up as an athlete your entire life, your entire identity lies within football.
When you’re no longer on the field, you remember that your identity is really in being a child of God. This might sound hard to believe, but I’m actually thankful I tore my ACL, because without the injury I don’t know if I am able to keep those priorities straight. The lesson couldn’t have come at a better time, because it would be another two years before things turned the corner.
That year away from football was probably the most difficult of my life, but it definitely had some benefits too, because it showed me who had my back.
I might have been the one doing the rehab, but I wouldn’t be on this journey alone.
First there was my teammate Jack Cichy, who was there with me each day in the rehab center. He was leading our team in tackles before he tore his pectoral muscle and was out for the season. We became closer through that time, and he pushed me just as I pushed him.
There was also my family back home who inspired me. My brother Zach, who by this point had made it onto the Ravens roster, told me that he would be playing the rest of that season in my honor. It was a moving tribute, but it meant even more when I saw him have the best season of his life. Two years earlier he went undrafted out of North Texas, and yet in 2016 he went on to become a second-team all-Pro. Before that season started most people had never heard of him, and yet by the end of that season he was one of the best players in the NFL.
And then – at the peak of his career – Zack found out his career was over.
He went in for a check up on a herniated disk, but while he was there doctors discovered that his one of his vertebrae had never fully developed. It was a huge issue, because a hit in the wrong spot could have been fatal. Just like that, he had played his last down in the NFL. And yet, in many ways, he was lucky that this came to light in a doctor’s office rather than on the field.
He had helped me at my low point, so now it was my time to return the favor. I was on winter break at the time, but I called my coach Paul Chryst and told him that I wanted to switch my jersey to 54 in honor of Zach.
“It’s a done deal,” Coach Chryst told me. “It’ll be done before you get back.”
I got to practice with the new number the entire offseason, but it really didn’t hit me until that season opener against Utah State. When we got into the locker room before the game, my #54 jersey with “Orr” on the nameplate was waiting for me. And as we ran out of the tunnel to U2’s “Where The Streets Have No Name” Zach saw me emerge with his number. It was the first time he had ever seen me play in person since we were in high school, and I honored him by leading our team in tackles that day.
Unfortunately, that turned out to be my best game of that season…my playing time was cut significantly from when I was healthy in the 2015 season, and I spent more time watching the 2017 season from the sidelines than I did playing on the field. It was mixed emotions though, because even though I didn’t get as many accolades as I did before, our team won our first 12 games of the season. It was one of the best seasons in Wisconsin history.
The 2018 season saw even more reduction in playing time, and it was a strange time for me. I would get texts from people like “great game” or even “you had a great game” when I knew that I had barely seen the field. And for the people who did notice I wasn’t out there, I didn’t have an excuse anymore. In 2016 I was injured, and in 2017 I was really only playing at about 80 percent. But in 2018 I had no excuse, other than my teammates were outplaying me.
It was strange…normally in football as you get more experience, you tend to play better, but in my case I was going backwards. I could have dealt with the limited playing time as a freshman, knowing I had my whole future ahead of me at UW, but it’s different when you’re an upperclassmen and you feel like you’re on the decline. And yet as Matthew 23:12 says, “Those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” I needed to be happy for whoever took my place.
Especially when it’s one of my best friends in the world.
T.J. Edwards earned every minute of playing time he got at Madison. He was a first-team All-American as a junior in 2017, and followed it up his senior year by leading our team with 113 tackles. And yet, as good as he was, he was concerned about my lack of playing time. He was actually more frustrated for me than I was for myself, and I had to tell him that I was totally okay. He’s the epitome of everything you want in a teammate.
I actually got to be out there on the field with him in the 2018 Pinstripe Bowl, and it felt like a good ending to his career. We sent him out as a winner, and I finally had my first game where I took a deep breath and realized I was still a good football player. I still had it.
I went into the offseason knowing this would be my last year in a Badger uniform, and it was time to fix one particular issue with our trophy case.
I’ll never forget the feeling of losing to Minnesota in 2018.
It was senior day for one of the winningest classes in Wisconsin history – a class that included one of my best friends T.J. Edwards – and we wanted to send them out the right way. We wanted to keep Paul Bunyan’s axe in our locker room, a tradition we had been able to keep since 2004. So many great Badgers had kept that tradition intact, and I had no intention of letting it fall under my watch.
Unfortunately, the game wasn’t even close. We lost 37-15, and I had to watch as the Gophers came over to our goal post and grabbed the axe. I walked into the locker room to see multiple teammates in tears, and right there I made a commitment to myself.
Man. This will never happen again. I will not let this happen again.
Instead of ignoring what happened, we used it as fuel the entire next season. I think we had to, because with the way our locker room is set up, our trophy case is right there for everybody to see, and the case for the axe was glaringly empty. We actually put up a picture of the Gophers celebrating, and it just ate away at us every single day. And then as rivalry week began, we began to play that video clip of them on a loop.
We knew it was one of the best Minnesota teams they had ever put together, so we knew they weren’t going to just hand the axe back over to us. They scored less than three minutes into the game to go up 7-0, but after that our defense just locked in. They had 10 possessions for the rest of the game, 4 of which were punts and 4 of which were turnovers. As the last seconds ticked by of our 38-17 win, we ran over to the field goal post and grabbed that axe right back.
That game sent us into the Big 10 Championship game against Ohio State, and we knew that if we won that game, there was a chance we could actually end up in the College Football Playoff.
We actually led 14-0 in that game in the second quarter when I sustained yet another injury. Not only was I out, but my teammate Noah Burks was also gone, and despite leading 21-7 at halftime we eventually lost 34-21. It felt totally helpless watching from the sidelines, and just like that my dreams of winning a National Title were over. It was a devastating feeling, but sometimes the losses don’t seem quite as bad when you have someone special in your life.
I had met Thalia a few years ago, and it didn’t take me long to realize she was special. I have always been a jokester, and throughout my life I’ve had people say I was too childish, but when I met Thalia she would tease me right back. We would stay too long at restaurants just laughing and enjoying life, and that same level of comfort continued when I took her to meet my parents. Normally there would be some nerves when you introduce a girlfriend to your family, but not with Thalia.
I realized I wanted to marry her, and my initial plan was to do it after I reached the NFL. Then at some point it dawned on me…why do I need to wait to marry her? That’s like knowing I wanted to go to Wisconsin and waiting until the end of my senior year to commit. There was no reason to wait. Now there was just the matter of actually popping the question.
I knew I wanted the moment captured on film, so I tasked one of my teammates, Zack Baun, and his girlfriend, with taking photos. The only problem was that I needed to convince Thalia to be in the right spot at the right time. At first I wanted to take her to a really nice steakhouse in Madison, right next to the Capitol. The only problem was that she wasn’t hungry, so we had to start calling some audibles. I told her we should get some fresh air, even if it was freezing outside in the Wisconsin winter.
That suggestion somehow worked, and as we got in front of the Capitol I got down on one knee and popped the question.
“I can’t go another day in my life without knowing that we’re going to be together forever,” I told her before I put the ring on her finger. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life.
The funny thing about this time is that I have no idea what the future is going to hold. I might be drafted in May, but it’s also completely possible that I’ll have to earn my way on a team as an undrafted free agent. But no matter where I get drafted, my family gave me the belief that you can accomplish anything.
My Dad played for nearly a decade in the NFL, despite being a 10th round pick. They don’t even have 10 rounds now. My brother Zach was also undrafted before becoming a starter with the Ravens. I’m glad I have people like that I can look up to, because when I was younger I had a teacher try and push me away from going into the NFL. He tried to show me these numbers of just how low the percentages are to make it, but there’s one thing he forgot to take into account. Those numbers don’t show which people worked harder than others, or the sacrifices some people made to reach their goal.
The percentage also doesn’t show who has a support system behind them. I don’t know what my chances are of starting in the NFL, but I do know that I’ll be glorifying God every chance I take the field. And the odds of that are 100 percent.