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The date was April 23, 2005, a simpler time when tweeting was only a thing birds did. In the NFL it was also a time when the draft hadn’t thrown itself fully at the dazzling lights of prime-time television yet.

On a Saturday afternoon young men waited to hear where their football careers would begin. That’s still the custom now, of course, with family and close friends nervously huddled around a green room table, twitching at every cellphone buzz.

But on that day over a decade ago, the order in which those highly touted prospects walked across the stage was different. It was strange even, and it hasn’t happened since.

Of the top five picks, three were running backs: Ronnie Brown went second overall to the Miami Dolphins, followed by Cedric Benson to the Chicago Bears at No. 4, and Carnell Williams was selected by the Tampa Bay Buccaneers with their fifth overall pick.

In the 10 drafts held since then only three running backs have heard their names in the top five. And in two of those drafts a running back wasn’t selected at all during the first round (2013 and 2014).

Honing in on a tipping point for any trend can become an imprecise search. But when we look back at that draft and the careers branching out from it, April 23, 2005, begins to feel like the day when the workhorse running back title started to adopt its modern definition. Of the top 20 career leaders in single-season carries, 18 posted their exceedingly heavy workloads before 2005.

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Why this dance with nostalgia now? Because 10 years ago at this time, one of those running backs deemed worthy of a top-five pick made history. One of them still has his shoes and gloves sitting in a Hall of Fame display case. And the same running back is also remembered for later enduring—and returning from—two incredibly gruesome injuries.

So, do you really remember Carnell Williams? He may not be a name that immediately pops out while flipping through your mental football Rolodex. But he should, because the Williams of yesterday was a unique talent derailed repeatedly.

And the Williams of today? He’s an example of how life after football can still be a life in football, with a much-appreciated helping hand.

A decade ago Williams began his NFL career with the Bucs, and quickly the NFL looked easy for him. He became the first running back to post three straight 100-plus-yard rushing games to begin a career.

Unsurprisingly, his totals over that span to begin the 2005 season were, well, large.

Carnell Williams over his first three NFL games Game Rushing yards Yards/carry TDs Week 1 (@Vikings) 148 5.5 1 Week 2 (vs. Bills) 128 5.3 1 Week 3 (@Packers) 158 4.3 0 Totals 434 4.9 2 Source: Pro Football Reference

Williams averaged 84.1 rushing yards per game during his first season and finished with 1,178 yards overall. He was named Offensive Rookie of the Year, and in a draft class that featured another workhorse running back who's still galloping (the Indianapolis Colts’ Frank Gore), he seemed destined for a long career of carving up defenses.

In some ways, though, the man you may recall only as “Cadillac” is the walking and talking—and formerly juking—representation of the short career lifespan running backs face when forced to sustain a heavy throttling each week.

He was untouchable for a time, and then he couldn’t walk. Now? He’s paying it forward with the NFL Players Association’s help.

A broken man (twice)

Williams had a brilliant collegiate career at Auburn, finishing his four years with a school record for touchdowns (46), and he was behind only the great Bo Jackson in rushing yards (3,831).

But he also set the Auburn career record for carries (741), and then in his rookie year with the Buccaneers Williams immediately had 310 touches. Looking back, he doesn’t think his college workload contributed to the damage that would later follow.

“It was just unfortunate,” he told Bleacher Report during a phone conversation. “Some breaks didn’t fall my way, and I tore up both of my knees. I don’t think the load at Auburn caused those things. I just think it was meant to happen.”

Williams used a sort of nonchalant tone while talking about “some breaks.” I suppose that’s standard for someone who’s weathered many football beatings. Prior to even reaching the NFL, he broke his collarbone at Auburn and also his ankle.

His next injury would be the last for most running backs. He tore his right patellar tendon during Week 4 of the 2007 season. Quickly Williams went from a first-round pick and Rookie of the Year to a broken man who couldn’t feel his leg.

“The injury taught me how to be patient," he said. "I went two-and-a-half months where I had no feeling in my leg. I couldn’t move my leg. I had to have an assistant, and my mom stayed with me 24 hours.”

“That was a very, very trying time. I couldn’t even walk. So that early on, to be honest, I really did feel like my career was over. I was devastated, and I went through a time when I got depressed and was hard on myself.”

Any concerns over the end of a career were only fleeting doomsday thoughts. Powered by his work ethic and resilience, Williams recovered to be back on the field late in 2008, looking like his old quick-cutting, shaking and missed-tackle creating self.

He was running with power and confidence after being brought off the injured reserve in Week 11. Then suddenly he was down on the field again, screaming in agony while clutching the other knee. (Video contains NSFW language.)

It seemed the football gods high above were conducting an experiment. Can a running back still be effective after tearing patellar tendons in both knees and in back-to-back seasons? More importantly, can he still walk?

Williams had what at first seems like a strange reaction after tearing his other patellar tendon. He was supposed to be emotionally crushed. Instead he was…cheerful?

“I thought the guy kicked my ankle. So once I fell on the ground I was telling the doctor, ‘It’s my ankle, the dude kicked my heel.’ Then I guess the doctor saw my kneecap in my thigh, and he said, ‘Oh lord, Cadillac, I think you tore your patellar, the other one.’”

“Guys were saying to me ‘why are you not devastated? You just tore your other patellar tendon.' I just felt like with the first injury I went through, it’s not going to get much tougher than that. I felt like I just tore this one off the bone, but hey, this is a piece of cake. I’ll be back in no time.”

Then the phone didn’t ring

Remarkably, Williams recovered again and had his second-best rushing season in 2009 with 823 yards, finishing at 1,040 yards from scrimmage. A few years later he was still productive in a limited role as Steven Jackson’s primary backup for the St. Louis Rams during the 2011 season, compiling 454 yards on 101 touches.

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Then when he hit free agency the calls stopped coming after that single year in St. Louis.

This will shock you, but it seems the market for a 30-year-old running back with two torn patellar tendons on his medical file isn’t exactly booming. As is often the case in this cruel, quick sport, Williams had to let a reality sink in at an age that may be elderly for football, but is still young for merely normal humans.

His career was over.

“It’s a brutal, brutal situation. Anybody who knows me, they know I’m a football junkie. I love everything about football. I love keeping up with the sport. I love meetings, I love training, and I love being in the locker room. I’m just a football junkie, and that’s how I’ve been all my life. So for me to be without football in 2012, man, I was lost.”

The end of a football career is a sudden wall. Sure, that’s true for most athletes, but often a silent phone comes much quicker in football. It’s a sport that can tear you apart then cast the broken pieces away, calling the discarded body “old” at 31.

That’s an age when normal non-football men and women are still spry while skipping as they step. This describes many people in their early 30s: They’ve been married for a few years, have a young child and are beginning to advance up the ladder in their chosen profession.

It describes running backs too, except for that last part. The career they’ve always worked toward and dreamed of has already come and gone. So what’s next? How do they still feel productive and fulfilled? Something tied to football seems logical, sure, but getting a coaching gig isn’t easy.

Which is where the NFLPA steps in.

A vintage Cadillac back where he belongs

In 2006 the NFLPA partnered with the American Football Coaches Association to establish a coaching internship for former players. Over 40 college schools that have Division II, Division III or NAIA football programs are now involved.

Retired players with an interest in coaching are evaluated to see if they're a fit for the program, and then assigned to an opening that aligns with their skill set. Williams applied for the internship after going back to finish the remaining coursework for his sociology degree at Auburn.

Now he’s landed in the ideal spot for a passionate running back and a self-proclaimed football junkie. He’s the running backs coach at Henderson State, a Division II school in Arkansas.

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Former players who become coaching interns spend a season at their assigned school and function as a fully contributing member of the coaching staff.

Leslie Satchell is the senior manager of player affairs and development at the NFLPA, and she started the internship program nine years ago. She said that often there are recently retired players who already have potential coaching opportunities available to them. But they’re lacking one key ingredient every employer wants to see on a resume.

“A lot of guys who have been playing for a number of years haven’t really had the chance to get the same experience as, say, an individual who knew he wanted to coach when he was younger,” Satchell told Bleacher Report.

“Our guys will come to us and say, ‘People keep saying they’d hire me if I just had some experience.’ So we created an opportunity for them to get a season of coaching experience.”

Annual enrollment in the program varies, and Satchell said this season 17 interns have been dispatched to make the transition from player to coach. Over the years she’s received consistently glowing feedback and results.

“We had a guy this year who started his internship and then three weeks later got a job offer somewhere else. But the coach at his school loved him so much they countered the offer, and he ended up staying where his internship was, but they hired him full time.”

The added benefit of working with a lower-tiered school is that even though there’s plenty of passion and hunger among the players, the coaching staffs are often short-handed. For Williams that led to heavy involvement right away.

It also led to nerves he had never experienced before, even as a player.

“I’m up at night thinking all the time; then I come in the next morning asking other coaches if, as a coach, am I supposed to be this nervous? I’m nervous as hell, man. I was nervous just not knowing what to expect while trying to learn the offense the first day of camp.”

“But once we got on the field, it was like everything just hit me. I was like ‘wow, now I’m in my sanctuary.’ Everything came very natural just coming out and talking to the guys, telling them to take this step or block here. It all just started to flow out.”

“But leading up to practice, I’ve never been that nervous before.”

The roles have been reversed, and he’s come full circle. Throughout his playing career Williams was the guy sitting at a desk in the film room, watching intently as a coach pressed play, rewound and pressed play again, all the while making a red dot dance on the screen to highlight mistakes or outline a game plan.

Now Williams is in a different seat. He’s at the front of the room with a clicker in his hand. It felt strange at first and even frightening. But it also felt good.

“On the field it’s natural. But the classroom work, preparing and getting it together, that is something I’ve gotten better at, and it’ll come with time.”

The feeling of excited jitters while beginning a new job is familiar for most of us. It’s an experience you’ll likely go through a few times throughout any career. But as a 33-year-old, Williams is facing a new challenge that doesn’t lean solely on his athletic ability for the first time.

Quickly, he’s gained a deep respect for the tireless work his coaches have done throughout the years. Coach Williams now has a constant need for more time. The minutes allotted for practice and meetings seem to race by so fast he’s left scrambling while trying to optimize every second.

“It’s so crazy because as players, sometimes we complain about how long we’re practicing, and other things,” he said. “But now as a coach it’s weird, because I feel like I don’t have enough time with my guys. From being on the other side, I don’t feel like I have nearly enough time to meet with everyone.”

“As a player, football isn’t always on your mind. Once you leave the facility you can kind of let it go. But as a coach you’re driving home and thinking ‘today we didn’t do this good, or we need to get better at this.’ It’s constant.”

From student to mentor

Art Valero was Williams’ position coach during that first magical season in Tampa. Even then when a talented but still developing 23-year-old sat in his film room it was clear Williams had a future in football well beyond his playing days.

“The offense we ran in Tampa was complicated for somebody new with the language, the different multiple sets and formations, and conceptually in the passing game,” Valero told Bleacher Report. “And he was a sponge.”

Margaret Bowles/Associated Press

“He wanted as much knowledge of the game as possible," he added. "And not only about what he was supposed to do, but also everyone around him.

"He wanted to know route concepts. He wanted to understand protections from not only a running back’s standpoint, but also what the center’s point was going to be, and how it dictated where he would go and where his eyes should be from there. He wanted to know how things were blocked, what the defense was and how the run blitzes worked. He wanted to know everything, and from a coaching standpoint it felt like going to school every day, and you got to teach someone who, instead of just relying on natural God-given ability, he wanted to know where those soft spots in the defense were.”

That thirst for knowledge will now drive Williams. He wants to advance up the college coaching ranks, which will often mean being more than just a football coach.

“My passion is football,” he said. “I want to work with a lot of these young guys. I really feel like I can not only coach them, but also be a mentor and help them to become young men while preparing them for life after football.”

The dual titles of mentor and coach are roles Williams seems more than qualified for, as he’s overflowing with character and life experience while speaking to younger versions of himself.

He went through plenty in football as a player, going from the peak of being a first-round pick and Rookie of the Year to the valley of obliterating both his knees. But he persevered, kept playing when he had no business still being in the NFL, and is now embracing a new challenge in the sport he's always loved.