The making of Frank Gore: 'I've been through so much'

To understand how a poor kid from Coconut Grove grew up to become one of the leading rushers in NFL history, you must first learn about the making of Frank Gore.

In a quiet corner of the Colts locker room, he calmly relates one life-altering moment after another. The most emotionally wrenching: the night he happened upon his drug-addicted mother getting high in their tiny Miami home.

"I got up to use the bathroom," Gore said, "and I saw her using. That just stayed on my mind. I was probably a sophomore in high school. I sat down with her and said, 'Mom, why?'"

Cocaine had a tight grip on Lizzie Gore. Frank was aware of her use, even though his mother did a rather impressive job of concealing just how deep her issues were. It appeared nothing could free her from the drug's grasp.

Except the pleas of her loving son.

"That was the day she started working at it," the Colts' veteran running back said. "And she got off those drugs. I had to have a real heart-to-heart with her."

If only that were the end of Gore's challenges. In truth, it was merely the beginning.

No singular event went into the making of this man.

It wasn't the first ACL tear. Nor was it the second. It wasn't just his severe learning disability. It wasn't solely Lizzie's drug abuse or the subsequent kidney disease that led to her death in 2007.

It was the precise combination of every last one of those things that produced one of the top rushers in NFL history. It's this exact series of events that forged within Gore the unshakable work ethic for which he is renowned.

If just one of those twists in his path had not occurred, perhaps he would be slightly less determined. Maybe he'd be more easily satisfied. He could be just a little less driven.

In other words, he would not be who he is today.

"I've been through a lot," said Gore, who signed a free-agent deal with the Colts in March after 10 seasons with the San Francisco 49ers. "But I think it all happened for a reason. I think what I went through made me appreciate the game even more. Even life, really. I wasn't guaranteed to be here.

"But I'm here."

*****

Dreams that lack a path to realization are dreams that will remain just that.

Gore once had such dreams. He wanted to be a college football player. But, really, he wanted a future in general. Specifically, he hoped to improve a home life that at one point had Gore and nine other family members sharing a 2-bedroom home.

"So many dreams but no answers for his dreams," Joe Montoya recalls.

Montoya, Gore's coach at Coral Gables High School, remembers meeting Gore during the player's junior year. He encountered a kid on a road to nowhere, through no fault of his own. Like many kids in his situation, Gore had been labeled. Slow, unteachable, unsalvageable. But there's a more appropriate term for it: Learning disabled.

Gore suffered from a severe form of dyslexia and struggled mightily with reading and writing, relegating him to an education curriculum that would earn him only a special education diploma.

"It would have prevented him from going to college," Montoya said.

Montoya helped spearhead an effort to have Gore transferred to a regular curriculum. That would take specialized tutoring. And it would require sustained effort from Gore himself. But it provided a path to his dream, which was all he ever wanted.

If only it were that easy.

With one hurdle removed, another now stood in Gore's way. Lizzie became gravely ill. Her damaged kidneys were failing.

"During my junior year, she almost passed away," Gore said. "She was in intensive care. But she made it through. I remember we were playing against Miami Central in the playoffs. Usually I don't like going to the hospital. But I went up there and saw her with all these tubes coming out of her. I asked her, 'Mom, do you want me to play?' She shook her head like, 'Yes.'

"So, I went out there and I had a pretty good game."

After that close call, Lizzie required regular dialysis. Gore saw to it that she made it to her appointments, even if that meant skipping practice and arranging rides for her with one of his coaches. He made it clear that his mother was his first priority, higher even than the game he loved.

But Gore, as he always has, found a way to rise above his challenges. He went on to become one of the nation's most feared running backs, setting the Miami-Dade County single-game (419 yards) and single-season (2,953 yards) rushing marks.

Soon, his dream would be fulfilled. He earned his diploma, achieved a qualifying SAT score and was off to the University of Miami – where yet more hurdles awaited.

*****

Gore ended up at Miami largely because it was close to home. Mississippi dangled a tempting offer and a chance to play as a freshman, but that would be too far from his ailing mother.

And just in case that wasn't enough incentive to keep him at home, former Miami receivers coach Curtis Johnson might have sealed the deal when he called out Gore during a recruiting visit to his home.

"He said to me, 'Man, you must be scared of competition. If you want to be the best, you gotta play with the best,'" Gore said. "I was like, 'Man, please.' But that stuck with me."

So, it was settled. Miami was the destination. All he had to do was find his way onto the field ahead of some rather stiff competition. Perhaps you've heard of them: Clinton Portis, Willis McGahee, Najeh Davenport, each a future NFL star. Miami in 2001 had one of the most talented rosters in college football history; 17 players on the roster that year were selected in the first round of the NFL draft over the next five years. But Gore had enough audacity that he still hoped – no, expected – to play anyway.

Former running backs coach Don Soldinger got a kick out of the kid's spunk.

"I gave him a playbook and I said, 'Look, bro, there's like 19 different pass protections in there," Soldinger said. "At Miami, you ain't playing if you can't protect the quarterback."

Soldinger probably thought that would mark the end of the conversation.

"Well, I get a call at 2:30 the next morning, and it's Frank," Soldinger said. "I'm like, 'Are you okay?' He tells me, 'Coach, I just learned all those protections and I want you to quiz me on them.'"

Soldinger did what any rational person would: He hung up. But Gore had made his point. In the process, he'd fulfilled another dream, earning his way onto the field and rushing for 562 yards as a freshman.

Then, right on cue, came Gore's next setback. He tore his ACL as a sophomore in 2002 and missed the entire season. Gore responded by doing the only thing he knew how to do: He worked.

His rehab complete, he embarked on the 2003 season looking to top his previous feats.

"I came back and got off to a great start," Gore said, "and then, in a Thursday night game at West Virginia, I had a great run, and a guy just fell on me."

He tore his ACL – again. This one nearly proved too much. Gore was nearing a breaking point. Sick mom, two knee surgeries, more rehab.

Really?

"It made me ask, 'Man, is football really for me?'" Gore said.

Gore put the question to Soldinger, and he got more of an answer than he bargained for.

"He told me, 'Are you freaking crazy?' " Gore recalled.

"He was down in the dumps," Soldinger says now. "His mom was sick. A lot of things were coming down on him at the same time. But God gave him an ability, and he needed to use it."

Gore stuck it out. Rehabbed, got back in shape, got back on the field.

"Back in seven months," Gore says, beaming with pride. "We played Florida State (in the 2004 opener), and I scored the winning touchdown in overtime."

Comeback complete.

*****

Gore was drafted in the third round of the 2005 NFL draft. He had topped his original dream of playing college football and was now a pro. But he was different in other important ways, too.

He learned revealing lessons about himself through the obstacles he'd cleared. See, football used to be effortless for Gore. This was a kid who once routinely turned in 300-yard rushing performances at Coral Gables.

But the injuries threatened it all. And here's the upshot: In the course of coming back from the injuries, Gore learned how to work. Really work.

He evolved into a rare combination of exceptional talent, unbelievable grit and high character.

"Before my knee injury I felt like I didn't really have to work at football," Gore said.

Now that he had a renewed outlook on the game, look out.

It's why, to this day, at 32 years old, Gore works so hard during offseasons you'd think he was an undrafted free agent. Three-hour afternoon workouts with Miami strength and conditioning coach Andreu Swasey are followed by evening workouts with a speed coach.

Sometimes, players many years his junior have a hard time keeping up. Which is sort of the idea. Oftentimes, Gore partners with 24-year old Miami Dolphins running back Lamar Miller while working out on campus.

"I want to see where he's at (compared to) me," Gore said. "Once I know I can't do that anymore, then I don't belong here."

"It's how he's lasted this long," Colts rookie and Miami alum Phillip Dorsett said. "He always tests me. We compete at everything. He calls out the young guys (in workouts)."

In football, your team is perpetually attempting to replace you. The search for the next big thing never ceases, even when the current big thing is a five-time Pro Bowl selection like Gore. He learned this in San Francisco after last season, when the team made a decision to move forward with second-year back Carlos Hyde as its starter.

Gore has some lingering thoughts about this.

"The only thing I was hurt by was that I thought we could have done it better," he said of his departure after 10 dedicated seasons. "Like, no bull----. Just straight up. I don't know if I even wanted to go back. But I would have felt better if we would have sat down and had a conversation. I mean, I was going to test the market no matter what. Me and the head coach (Jim Tomsula) talked and he basically told me I'd be in a certain situation. But I wanted to hear it from the GM (Trent Baalke).

"I mean, you could let us compete. You didn't have to say I was automatically going to take the back seat. Put it on me. I mean, bro, I finished last season with 1,100 yards. Every time I got opportunities, I did something with it. So, I felt like, 'Fine, if you want to go with the young guy, (make him) beat me out. It wasn't like I can't play anymore. If he beats me out, I can handle that. You can't play this game forever. I knew I couldn't be there forever. But I was there 10 years and I played every down the same whether we were winning or not."

*****

All these years later – not to mention 11,247 yards (18th in NFL history), two teams and dozens of wins later – Gore hasn't changed. Montoya still sees that same humble kid from Coral Gables High each time they get together for a beer. He's still the uncompromising player Soldinger recalls coaching back at Miami.

The relationships remain strong. Gore called Soldinger from the Colts facility on the day of his free-agent visit in March. The coach told Gore to be sure and attend offseason workouts (as opposed to working out in Florida), make a good impression, show his dedication. Gore obliged.

After his pivotal fumble on "Monday Night Football" two weeks ago, Gore and Montoya talked and the player's fundamentals were reinforced.

So many of his dreams have been achieved. None of them easily.

"I've been through so much," Gore said. "I mean, after an ACL, you have to learn how to walk again, how to run again, you have to get your head strong again. That's why I appreciate this game. That's why I work so hard."

Montoya struggles to explain the emotions he feels when he watches Gore play today.

"I'm watching a kid who fulfilled his dream and I had just a little part in it," Montoya said, sobbing through the telephone. "It brings tears to my eyes to see that kid, knowing how far he's come and how much work he put in and how he cried in my office, in my arms, saying, 'Please, Coach, help me.' That's what it does for me.

"Every time I see him on the TV, I say, 'There he goes! There he goes!' "

Gore has to keep going. He's come too far to stop.