Superbowl champion BJ Daniels: 'I haven't always walked with God. But he has never left me'

BJ Daniels does not understand the word “no”. 

Until he was seven years old, the future NFL star lived in a university halls of residence in Florida where his dad worked. Being surrounded by students and football players made for an a-typical childhood.The young BJ remembers dreaming of just two things: being a professional sportsman and owning a skateboard, just like the students he saw on campus. His parents told him he was “too small” but, undeterred, BJ repurposed his toy fire truck into a makeshift deck. After riding successfully down a hill, he felt emboldened. So he went back and did it again, faster this time. 

BJ bailed. But his morale? Untouched. “I just remember falling, busting my face wide open, bleeding everywhere.” He returned home, bloodied but smiling, to tell his parents: “I’m going to figure out a way to get a skateboard whether you get me one or not.” 

This determination would remain a theme throughout his life until he received the one “no” you can’t defy: God’s.

BJ’s vision for his life consisted of a house with a “white picket fence and the dog in the backyard”, plus the gold hall of fame jacket afforded to the foremost American football players. But when God’s will deviated from that dream, he fell from the heights of the premier American football league, was plagued by injury and placed in the familiar setting of his former high school; now washing the jerseys he once sported as the star quarterback.

This abrupt end to his time in the NFL taught BJ lessons of humility, faith, resilience and peace. Ultimately, it altered the way he viewed himself and his purpose. The full story, Beyond the Red Zone (Trigger Publishing) is not about “X’s and O’s and how to throw a football”, it is a path beyond it. It’s less concerned with stats and accolades and more about serving and impact. From a night where his life could’ve ended to the moment God gave him back all he thought he had lost, BJ has come to understand that God’s “no” is not rejection. It is redirection. 

You’ve said you were the kind of kid who refused to take no for an answer. How did that mindset shape your life and career?

Eventually, when my parents earned enough money, we moved [out of the university campus] to the suburbs which, in America, often means a white neighbourhood. But I still played sports on the south side of Tallahassee and went to church there with people who looked like me. 

At first, I kept those two worlds separate but eventually, I played sports for my school. That’s when I experienced resistance as a quarterback. I had the talent, the arm, the athleticism, but I wasn’t given the same opportunities. 

So, I chose a school 45 minutes away, back on the south side of Tallahassee, too. I tried out for the team and made it. Starting at quarterback – 13 years old, leading 17- and 18-year-olds – confirmed what I already suspected: it wasn’t just about talent. Maybe [not getting opportunities at the other school] was about my skin colour, my culture, things people weren’t ready to accept yet.

The same thing happened in college. I was told: “You’re not tall enough.” But the resistance went deeper. Historically, quarterbacks have been expected to look a certain way. They’re the face of the team and for a long time, people didn’t see Black quarterbacks as fitting that mould. 

Every step of the way, I had to prove I belonged. When I made it to the NFL, I still didn’t fit what people expected in a quarterback. 

Once you moved past the glitz, glamour and notoriety of it, you start facing the cultural application of being the ‘big dog’ now. The idea that when you make money, you suddenly become this big figure. All of a sudden, I was the financial breadwinner, the big brother and the leader of my family. At the same time, I was trying to hold on to my values, fighting all the temptations that come with that lifestyle. And I was still trying to figure out: Where does God fit in all of this?

Where did God fit in all of that?

I’ll be honest – throughout my four years in Seattle [during which time he won the Superbowl with the Seattle Seahawks], I didn’t attend church during football season. 

Being so young and naive, I wasn’t doing the things necessary to maintain my relationship with God. But I had an angel – my grandmother. When I was discouraged because I didn’t play that week, was cut from the roster or injured, she was always there. Sending me a Bible verse or reminding me she was praying for me. 

Quarterbacks have been expected to look a certain way and for a long time, people didn’t see Black quarterbacks as fitting that mould

Even in moments when I wasn’t walking with God, he would use her to remind me he was still walking with me.

Was there a specific moment when your faith gave you clarity? 

I’ve had incredible experiences. I’ve been to three Super Bowls, I’ve met President Obama. I’ve been able to financially provide for my family. I’ve been in spaces I could have only dreamed of.

I overcame the odds – being a short Black quarterback from Tallahassee – but at the same time, I was told “no” a lot. My career felt manipulated at times. I broke my ankle in my senior year, thought I’d never make it to the NFL. I was held at gunpoint in college; my whole story could have ended there. My little sister was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma at 23; she was cured. Then that same year, my grandmother passed away.

I moved a dozen times. I was traded, then got to Houston thinking that I could rebuild my relationship with my high school sweetheart, only to come home and tell her I’d just been released [from contract]. After all that, clarity came when I was living in Atlanta.

After we lost the Super Bowl, I was injured, I had surgery, my girlfriend left me, the NFL was over for me. I was in a city where nobody cared about BJ Daniels. 

I moved back to Tallahassee and coached girls’ basketball with my dad. From there, I became the football coach at my old high school, Lincoln. I had walked those same hallways as a kid and now I was in the basement, scrubbing jerseys while cockroaches crawled around at 1:30am on a Friday night. That moment humbled me.

Then I remembered something [American Football coach] Tony Dungy said: “Don’t worry about your platform – be intentional about your impact.” I had been so focused on climbing up here [gestures upward] when I should have been focused on giving here [gestures outward].

God was testing me. And he gave me one more opportunity. I joined the Seattle Dragons. But I was the back-up quarterback. Again.

So I found ways to serve. I started Bible study. I led financial literacy meetings. I stood up to coaches when I saw maltreatment of teammates. I took on that role free of any ego, attitude, any type of frustration about how my career had gone. 

I started one game before Covid shut everything down. And I wore number seven – the same number I started my career with – the biblical number of completion. 

I had wanted 50 starts. A hall of fame jacket. The perfect ending. I didn’t know I only needed one. God showed me that he can restore everything in an instant. I finally understood my purpose wasn’t about what I could get, it was about what I could give.

How did you feel in that moment?

It was a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was a dream come true. When things don’t go the way you plan, doubt creeps in: Why did you bring me this far just to leave me here? Why did I get this close, only for it to end like this?

I had teammates who had more successful careers, making more money, getting more media attention, playing longer – and had those same teammates commit suicide. Some couldn’t handle the pressure, or their career didn’t pan out the way they thought it should.

I finally understood my purpose wasn’t about what I could get, it was about what I could give

So when I finally got to the point where I could close that chapter of my life with peace, I didn’t take it for granted. There are guys who haven’t played in ten years, and they still can’t let it go. And I get it – because for a long time, I wasn’t happy with where my career ended up. 

I kept comparing myself to other players my age, to guys I had beaten in college. I asked myself over and over: Why do they get that opportunity? None of them were taller, stronger or faster than me…but I realised I wasn’t called to do what they’re doing. That’s not my assignment.

What happened on the night you were held at gunpoint?

What I didn’t know at the time was that success comes with attention – and not all of it is good. The recognition, the hype, the media coverage…it also put a target on my back. That night, I was out late, just being a college kid, enjoying the moment. It was around 3am, and I was walking ahead of my teammates when suddenly, I heard footsteps. I turned around, and there was a pistol in my face. Four guys in ski masks. My teammates? Gone.

And then, a white light. I remember falling facedown on the ground, I don’t remember hearing anything – no voices, no words. I was pleading: “God, please don’t let them take me. They can have whatever they want, just don’t let them take me.”

I started throwing my phone, my keys, everything I had in my pockets, just trying to show them I wasn’t resisting. Then, suddenly, the white light faded. I heard tyres screech. They jumped into a truck and sped off.

I didn’t call the police. I didn’t want the media involved. I didn’t want anyone to know where I had been. I definitely didn’t want my parents to find out. Because the truth is…I was at a strip club. The next morning, I saw my teammates in the locker room. We barely spoke about it. It was like it never happened. But that night taught me some hard lessons.

How has your relationship with God shaped your perspective on those experiences?

When questioning God on why things are happening, it’s hard to see the purpose. But when I reflect, I see that he never left me. 

Just this past Sunday, I broke down in church thinking about those times when things could have gone another way. I could have lost my life; I could have given up – but he didn’t let that happen. I’ve been through things that could have broken me, but instead, they shaped me. And now, I know where my strength comes from. And that understanding has changed how I see everything.

Now, you’re a champion for mental health. Do you see that as your calling?

My calling, honestly, is impact.

I’ve seen people take their own lives, people face battles that are too overwhelming to bear. For me, my strength was my locker room, my family, but, above all, my strength came from the Lord.

Looking back, I see that God gave me the strength to handle situations that could have completely derailed me. 

There’s no magic pill for mental health. But there are people who can support you. And for me, my faith was the biggest support system I had.

I know the devil’s still behind me. He’s doesn’t wake up one day and say: “Alright, I’m done chasing you.” The second I walk out of this room, I already know something’s coming. A test. A challenge. A temptation.

That’s why I have to stay humble. Just like in football – when you’re pushing sleds, running sprints, lifting weights, coming back from injuries – it’s the same thing spiritually. If I stop working, if I stop preparing, I lose the battle.

What would you say to the BJ that stepped onto the field for the first time against Florida State?

Chase God relentlessly. Because there’s a lot coming your way that you’re not prepared for. And if your faith isn’t strong enough when those moments hit, it’s going to be harder than it needs to be.

The same way you chased that starting position – the grit, the determination, the belief that even though you couldn’t see it yet, it was coming – that’s how you have to chase God. “Walk by faith, not by sight” [2 Corinthians 5:7, NKJV]. Even when it doesn’t look like things are working out, even when you don’t see the results, stay after him.

If I had had that same hunger for him, it would have saved me from a lot. If I had had that mindset earlier, I wouldn’t have rolled over on a Sunday morning thinking I could be 15 minutes late to church. I would’ve treated it like I did football, where being late was never an option.

If I could go back, I’d tell myself: Make him the priority, and everything else will follow. 

Beyond the Red Zone: How a Super Bowl winner became a mental health champion by BJ Daniels (Trigger Publishing) is out now