For my entire childhood, several times a week, my father, a former strong safety at Virginia Tech, would tell me the exact same thing:

“Line your shoes up, son. There’s no reason to come in the house and just throw them anywhere. That’s a sign of laziness, and we do not tolerate laziness in this house.”

My mother, an attorney and part-time editor, taught me the importance of humility, treating others with respect and never settling until the job was not just finished, but done right.

Meanwhile, my younger brother, who is far and beyond my biggest role model, has always led by example. With study habits unmatched, his commitment to excellence landed him at Yale University on an academic scholarship. I learned from him a desire to know the ins and outs of whatever challenges lie ahead — whether it be a test, an opponent or a job. He just finished his first year at Yale with a 3.5 GPA, by the way.

Needless to say, I grew up learning strong values. These values will last me a lifetime, but whether they’ll land me a lengthy professional football career remains to be seen.

Now two years removed from my collegiate football career at Michigan State, I find myself on a journey that would make the likes of Bilbo Baggins proud. Perseverance mixed with a little bit of luck allowed the hobbit to return to the shire, mission complete, and I aspire to do the same.

Work hard, do the right thing, treat others the way you want to be treated, give it your all, etc. are the type of mantras that can take you extremely far in your career, but what happens when a million people learned those same values and are on an eight-year mission for 2,000 jobs?

What happens when there are people who don’t have these values but still are afforded the same opportunity, if not a better chance, to land one of these jobs? How about being qualified, perhaps even overqualified for one of these jobs, and not getting that position you thought you would get?

That’s a glimpse into a life trying to play in the National Football League. That’s a glimpse into being a professional athlete — waking up each day with the ability to play the game you have poured all of your passion into your entire life, and turn that into your actual source of income.

I mean how great does that sound?

The unforgiving reality of chasing a dream

Coming out of DeMatha Catholic High School in Hyattsville, Maryland, I received approximately 20 Division 1 scholarship offers before deciding to attend Michigan State University to play for Coach Mark Dantonio and the Spartans. I knew that I was going to get both a great education, and play big-time football in the Big Ten.

Harris credits his parents Alan and Lisa, here with him on National Signing Day, with teaching him the strong values he has relied upon during his career.

Fast forward to my senior season and I already had, most importantly, my degree — a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism — to go along with a Big Ten championship, a Rose Bowl championship, and a Cotton Bowl championship. Coming off my first year as a full-time starter, I knew that I needed to up my game if I wanted to be the leader of this football team and earn a legitimate shot at playing in the NFL. After being elected team captain by my teammates, I went on to have my best season in the Green and White, finishing the year with 90 tackles, 10 tackles for loss (both records at my specific linebacker position), an All-Big Ten nod, and most importantly another Big Ten championship, as well as a College Football Playoffs berth. All in all, I finished my career at MSU with the record for most games played by a Spartan with 54, including 25 starts, 154 tackles, 12 tackles for loss, an interception returned for a touchdown, two Big Ten Championships, four bowl victories, and a trip to the college football playoffs. I figured this was quite the resume to apply for the job I wanted upon graduation — a linebacker position in the NFL.

Undersized.

I knew size might be what deterred NFL teams from offering me a job in their organization. I knew that 5-11 and 225 pounds was not the ideal size for an NFL linebacker, perhaps a slight pothole on my resume, but I felt the game was changing, creating demand for smaller defenders who could play both the run and the pass. I knew I could make up for my “lack of size” in two specific ways – with speed and intangibles.

After my first year at MSU, I had been clocked at a 4.3 40-yard dash and by my senior year (after putting on 20 pounds), I was still running in the 4.4s. The second reason I was confident I could compensate was my intangibles. I knew that I was never so much as ten seconds late for a meeting, workout, or any team activity. I was the hardest worker in the room. I lead both vocally and by example. I had my degree, and I made the dean’s list, and my own teammates elected me as a captain.

Those characteristics alone had to separate me from other players, right?

There were three possible job interviews in which I had a chance to showcase my abilities. Pro Day, which came last, was a given, as all qualifying players could participate. Another was being invited to an All-Star game, something my agent helped set up for me. Not ideal — I felt as though I should have been invited regardless — but nonetheless I was happy with the invitation however it came and I performed well at the East-West Shrine Game. The third, and perhaps most important, brought the first major disappointment of my journey. The NFL combine did not come calling.

In fact, I called them wondering about my status and was met on the other line with a response that went something like, “you have not received an invite, but don’t worry there are plenty of other opportunities to show what you got.” All I heard was you now have one less opportunity to make a lasting impression to obtain perhaps the hardest job in the world.

Something that had always been a dream of mine as a football player was not going to come true. No cool gear, no time on NFL Network, and much more importantly, no meetings with NFL teams.

The 4.7 seconds that changed everything

I immediately turned all focus and attention to preparing for Pro Day at Michigan State, where I felt my speed would get me drafted. I knew that the 40-yard dash I ran on March 16th, 2016, was going to have the most significant effect on the trajectory of my career.

Unfortunately, the one thing you cannot do in this business, especially as a bubble guy, is get injured before you are established. That is exactly what happened to me while training for the very drill that was going to help separate me from others at my position. Late in January, running a 40-yard dash early in the morning, on the 38 ½ yard mark, I felt a pop in my groin and my leg immediately locked up. A pulled adductor was the diagnosis. The medical staff at the training facility said it would be a two-week recovery, which would have me back at full strength with a month left until pro day.

An undisclosed groin injury slowed down drills for Darien Harris during his Pro Day workout. (AP Photo)

One month post-injury, I was only at about 60 percent healthy with three weeks until the most important job interview of my life. By the time I lined up to run the 40 on pro day, I only felt 75 percent healthy. I did what I could and still managed a 4.7, average time for linebackers but far below average for myself and linebackers of my size. My three-cone drill and short shuttle also suffered because of the injury, meaning that, essentially, I had bombed my job interview.

Maybe I should have informed teams ahead of time that I was hindered, but being a bubble guy, I didn’t think that would serve me well. Besides, I had intangibles, right? And film. Good film. I helped limit last season’s NFL rushing leader Ezekiel Elliot to just 37 yards in his final game in Columbus. I produced eight tackles, including two for a loss, on Heisman trophy-winner Derrick Henry in the College Football Playoffs, and had nine tackles, including another two for a loss, in a Big Ten championship game win over Iowa. In the biggest games, I shined the brightest and, to me, that was real job experience.

Leading up to the draft, I did not get invited to visit any teams, or have any teams come work me out at MSU. It was another disappointment, but something my agent said was common and minor in the grand scheme of the entire journey. I got calls from roughly half of the teams in NFL, calls from all sorts of team officials ranging from scouts to head coaches. I figured that just receiving these calls daily had to be a good sign leading into draft weekend because it meant that I was on draft boards. The night before the draft I got a call from a head coach who informed me that their team had a lot of love for me, and that they felt as though I could really help their organization.

The stressful wait on draft day

My family and I knew that I was not going to be selected on Day One of the draft. There was an ever-so-slight chance that I could be called on Day Two. Day Three was the day that I planned to receive the call and see my name and highlights played on ESPN. My parents, younger brother, grandmother, and a few of my closest childhood friends surrounded me in the lounge of my mother’s apartment complex. It was important to me to have the people that I cared about most with me for this moment.

Perhaps the most frustrating part, maybe of the entire process, was sitting there with the most important people in my life, listening to the players’ names being called, and, after for what seemed like every pick, the commentators telling viewers different versions of these descriptions:

“You know he’s a great player but off the field he did…”

“He was arrested for…”

“…kicked off the team for…”.

“…had to transfer because of…”

Suddenly I realized all the intangibles I believed gave me an edge didn’t matter as much as I thought they would. This isn’t to say that people don’t deserve second chances or aren’t allowed to make mistakes, but for someone that has tried to do everything right and by the book — and for my family who raised me this way — to see that not carry the weight I expected was extremely challenging.

I had teammates and friends I trained with going through the same thing, so we created a group chat, to text each other and make light of the most strenuous day of our lives. And also congratulate each other when we all got picked up. Five of my teammates were drafted. Another several from my training group in Florida were as well. You couldn’t help but be excited for everyone. We all began thinking about the inevitable post game jersey swaps that were going to take place when the season began.

The draft ended and I didn’t hear my name called. I pretty much knew that my football career would continue in Cincinnati. The Bengals had called me repeatedly in the days leading up to the draft and even on draft day saying they really wanted me to be a part of the organization. I received calls after the draft from two other teams, but had already decided that I was headed to the Queen City.

Excited about the opportunity, I celebrated that evening with friends and family that came into town for my draft party. I invited another 50 people to come take part in the festivities that included food from DC City Smokehouse, a lot of laughs and cheers, my dad giving the speech of the year as a proud father of both an NFL player and a Yale bulldog. The night was exceptional and filled with a lot of love regardless of how the draft went down.

I knew that my eight-year mission of landing on an NFL roster was complete, but the lifelong mission of staying on the roster was about to begin.

The worst words to hear in training camp

The way to make the roster in training camp is by performing in the preseason games and in the NFL there are just four before the regular season begins. Going into the first preseason game, I was the second-string middle linebacker due to an injury to the former second-stringer and some depth issues. The move to middle linebacker from outside linebacker was one that I embraced. Being in the middle and in control was where I played my best. I learned the entire defense in less than a week. I was so determined to prove I belonged. When the first game rolled along, I had four tackles including a sack, and made no mental errors setting and controlling the defense. When we watched the film of the game the following day as a position group, my position coach told me my grade for the game was a 91 percent, highest of anyone in the room.

Grading out at 91 percent in the preseason was a good start but not enough to land an NFL job. (AP Photo)

He went on to say, “All I can say is Darien, you are a really good football player.”

I followed that performance with a decent game in Detroit in the second preseason game, trying to make a mark on special teams. I didn’t quite make the plays I wanted to, but I still did my job and I had another 91 percent grade under my belt. Going into the third preseason game, the injured player who was originally ahead of me on the depth chart returned and reclaimed his spot. Against Jacksonville, I played just one play on defense the entire game. Teammates told me that the reason was because they had seen enough of what I could do and would at least be keeping me for the practice squad.

The first round of cuts came two days after the third preseason game, when teams cut their roster from 90 down to 75. We were off that Tuesday and the goal was to just make it through the day. Live to see one more day. Don’t be the guy whose locker is completely cleared out the next day.

That Wednesday I became one of those guys.

I was sitting in my hotel room watching TV, praying that my phone did not ring, but at around 2 p.m. that Cincinnati area code popped up. Within a couple hours, I was saying what I hoped was just a “see you later,” but was ultimately a goodbye. I was on the road back to East Lansing, just four short months after believing that Cincinnati was my new home.

The four-hour drive back to East Lansing was a time of tremendous reflection. This was my first time I had been cut from a sports team, essentially told I was not good enough. But how could that be? Did I not just get a 91 percent on what is practically a test? In what world does a 91 percent equate to failure?

That’s the NFL.

It’s a numbers game. That’s what I was told. Not necessarily that I did not have the talent; rather, there just were not enough roster spots and I was undrafted and undersized. My position coach gave me a hug as I was on my way out and said, “there was nothing I could do.” He was a main staple in my decision to go to Cincinnati. Now, back on the same couch I left not less than a year ago, with no job and far too much time on my hands, I needed a plan.

My plan was to wait until that next call because I knew it was coming. Perhaps that’s what all the hundreds of players that were cut believe, because what else are you supposed to think and feel? Stay in shape and wait for the next opportunity.

September came and went. No calls. October came and went. So did November. Still no calls, still no workouts. Nothing.

I tried to stay busy by putting my degree to use and co-hosting on local radio and television twice a week. I began working on my Master’s degree. Then, I was contacted by the Ottawa Redblacks, a team in the Canadian Football League, to try and make their team the following year. When the NFL regular season concluded in January, ending any chance of me landing on a team for the 2016 season, my focus shifted to 2017. March rolled around and I still did not have even a whiff of an NFL workout.

I decided my best option was to go forward by playing in the CFL, signing my contract with the Ottawa Redblacks.

As this story comes to its conclusion, I still know that I am in the beginning stages of the lifelong journey I set out to pursue, even if this stage of that journey finds me back on a couch in East Lansing after suffering a pulled hamstring in training camp with the Redblacks.

I once again find myself reflecting.

On the one hand, I was told to rehab and that once I was healthy, I would be brought back to the team. Now coming up on my second week fully healed, I am still waiting for the phone to ring, wondering just how long I should chase this dream.

There are over a million high school football players in the country. Only one percent get college scholarships, and only one percent of that one percent make it to the NFL. I have opportunities outside of football and I believe those will always be there, so why not exhaust this God-given ability that only lasts a few years?

But as I have learned over these past couple of years, what happens in this business is often out of your control. No one really understands that reality until experiencing it firsthand. Go to school, get your degree, apply for a job, work your way up in the company and all will be right — that’s what most people expect before embarking on their chosen career. That formula doesn’t work in the business of professional athletics.

One day soon, I know that sort of path will be my life, because I have positioned myself to be more than just a football player, but for now this body has more tackles to make.

I am incredibly thankful for those in my life who understand why I am chasing after this so hard, especially those who have been there since my very first football game in sixth grade, those who will be at my very last.

Being in limbo has given me a chance to look long and hard about life after football and about what I will bring to society. I believe in having a plan and have one to put into action upon my retirement from this great game.

Until then, I am looking forward to the next time I get to lace up my cleats, strap on my helmet, buckle my chin strap, peer through my visor, diagnose the play, seek, and destroy.