Phil Richards

Indianapolis

This story was originally posted July 3, 2014.

Josh McNary's path to the NFL was the one less traveled.

When the Indianapolis Colts called to offer a contract two years ago he was gainfully employed as a U.S. Army fire direction officer. As such, he plotted and commanded fire missions on the gun line of a 155-millimeter artillery battery whose cannons heaved lethal 100-pound projectiles as far as 19 miles downrange.

He was, in the parlance of the profession, a "cannon-cocker." There could be no more appropriate alias for a professional football long shot, and one whose story is appropriately enough told on Independence Day weekend.

The Fourth of July is a holiday of genuine significance for McNary and his family because so many of its members wore the uniform and swore the oath to protect and defend the country that observes it.

"It's a very, very special time and we're very blessed and thrilled to celebrate it fully," said Josh's father, George McNary II, a systems testing engineer with Lockheed-Martin. "We celebrate it and reflect on it."

McNary's maternal grandfather, the late Aaron Figgs, served as an infantryman during World War II. McNary's paternal grandfather, George McNary, did his duty in Korea as an artilleryman, and George II served 11 years as a Marine Corps officer, first in air support control, then in the infantry.

Josh's uncle, Ron McNary, won a Bronze Star for valor in combat as an Army Reserve first sergeant in Iraq.

There's more.

Josh's mom, Cecilia, was a high school student of good character and high achievement. At a time the U.S. Military Academy at West Point was admitting its first female cadets, she received a letter inquiring about her interest in enrolling. Mom chose to become a schoolteacher and have a family, but three decades later, Josh got the same kind of letter.

West Point wanted him, not as a football player, but as an officer candidate.

He took the challenge. He grabbed the opportunity. Josh is a 2011 academy graduate now serving as a perpetually improving, spit-shined, 'ten-hut Colts inside linebacker.

How he got there is worth saluting.

The forever-walk-on

McNary played safety as a 170-pound junior at Clear Lake High School in Houston. During the offseason, he filled out, heaved the weights, bulked up to 203 pounds and was moved to linebacker. It was the position for which his speed, raw strength and affection for contact was best suited. He was going to make his mark. He was going to earn a college scholarship.

The coaches moved him again, this time to 2-technique, defensive tackle, a thankless, anonymous, assignment where recognition is rare double-teams are frequent.

He played it well but his lone college offers were from a pair of NCAA Division II schools, Emporia State (Kan.) and Mary Hardin-Baylor, Belton, Texas, a formerly women-only institution that didn't become fully co-educational in 1971.

"No. Really?" protested Jerrell Freeman, the Colts' starting weak-side linebacker, a Mary Hardin-Baylor graduate, and by far the school's most distinguished football alumnus. "He never told me that. That's pretty neat. We don't even give (football) scholarships."

Fortunately, McNary didn't only play football and basketball and run track at Clear Lake. He studied, diligently.

"I did OK," McNary said in his aw-shucks manner. "I excelled, I guess you could say."

Based on that, his next stop was West Point Prep (then located at Fort Monmouth, N.J.). He walked on with the football team, and he studied some more.

Said McNary, begrudgingly, "I kind of managed to excel, there, too."

That became his refrain. Everywhere he went, everything he did, he did his best. He excelled.

"He is not one of those on-varsity-as-a-freshman kind of athletes," said Josh's older brother, George III. "That's why there's nobody in 'the league' stronger than him, I don't believe, because he came from nothing."

Climbing the ladder

West Point requires all cadets to participate in a sport. McNary picked football. He walked on again.

He played special teams and earned a spot in some of the defense's rush packages as a freshman. As a sophomore, he started the first three games at linebacker, his position of predilection, and again, his chance to truly show.

An injury forced a move to defensive end. McNary's disappointment was enormous, his reaction imperceptible. He put his head down. He worked.

"If I got two grunts out of Josh, I considered it a complete conversation," said John Mumford, McNary's position coach at West Point and now the defensive line coach at Louisiana-Monroe. "I don't think he wanted to (move), but he did it."

Again, he excelled.

Life affords precious little of the commodities most prized at a military academy: free time and sleep. The engineering-oriented academic curriculum emphasizes courses like Physics ("a beast"), not Phys-Ed. The military requirements are rigorous and strictly exacted, the football program as demanding as anywhere else in big-time college athletics.

Cadets, if they are to succeed, fall into what they might describe as a "battle rhythm." They manage time, distractions, energy, focus. They march.

McNary carried 22 credit hours the autumn semester of his junior year. He recorded 12½sacks and 22½tackles for loss. He ranked among the national leaders in both categories.

He truly excelled.

Mumford has patched together a training tape of McNary's highlights. When he wants to show his players effort, when he wants to show them how to rush the passer, he puts on McNary.

Called to duty

Colts general manager Ryan Grigson, then director of player personnel for the Philadelphia Eagles, visited West Point in 2010. He went to scout McNary. Grigson projected him as a late fourth- or fifth-round draft pick, but mindful that graduates owe the army five years of active duty service, forgot about him.

McNary left West Point as its all-time leader in sacks (28) and tackles for loss (49), and he all but forgot about the NFL. He was assigned to the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment at Fort Hood, Texas. He put his head down and went to work again. He was 50-50 on making the army his career until a visit home for Thanksgiving, 2012.

McNary's brother resurrected the dream.

"I just told him if he was passionate about something, pursue it," George III said. "Football has been in his life since he was a toddler."

George II went to work. He called every college anywhere near Fort Hood, seeking a spot for Josh in a pro day, on-campus workouts attended by professional scouts. Dad was rebuffed every time. Our pro day is for our athletes, not outsiders, he was told every time.

George II didn't give up. He called Stephen Austin, director of the NFL's super regional combines, essentially show-and-tells for NFL longest of long shots. Austin had a relative at a military academy. He understood the situation. He not only gave Josh a spot in the Dallas Super Regional, he comped the $245 registration fee.

Josh ran with the opportunity. He made time around his army duties to train hard for three months. He showed well. The combine ended on a Sunday. On Wednesday, by which time his measurables and video had been posted, McNary's phone began ringing. It was April 10, 2013. It was his 25th birthday.

Among the teams that called, the New Orleans Saints expressed keen interest. The Colts did more.

"(Grigson) offered a deal, no workout or anything," McNary, a thick, 6-foot, 250-pound slab of muscle on the move. "He talked about his history and looking at me through my years in college. He put coach (Chuck) Pagano on the phone.

"(Pagano) told me how excited they were and Mr. Grigson had the whole coaching staff in there looking at my film from college and they knew exactly how I was going to fit into the defense and be able to contribute."

McNary had no agent, nor need of one. He signed a two-year, $900,000 contract the next day that gives the Colts exclusive rights to him for a third year, 2015. It was the league minimum and it didn't matter. Against all odds, the dream lived.

True, blue Colt

Because McNary had served two years and had a signed professional contract, he qualified for an early release program. He was honorably discharged from the army in July and immediately reported to training camp.

There, said Grigson, who signed McNary as a fullback prospect, "within a week, a guy who had never played inside linebacker before was going to be our starting 'nickel' (linebacker.)"

Of course adversity intervened again. McNary hadn't played a snap in two years. He desperately needed practice, time to regain, refine and exhibit his skills. He tore his hamstring the second week of camp. He missed the entire preseason.

He refused to despair.

"I think the way he's lived his life, going to a military academy, being an officer, he's incredibly mature," said Chandler Harnish, the Colts' practice squad quarterback. "That was one thing you could tell right away: This guy's got his head on straight.

"He does everything like a man should do it. He's a great role model for the guys."

The Colts were forced to waive McNary when they cut the roster to the final 53, then signed him to the practice squad, where he became close friends with Harnish, his locker room neighbor.

McNary regained his health. He kept working, improving. He was signed to the active roster on Nov. 26. He became a core special teams player and almost immediately earned the nickel linebacker role and a spot in all the sub-packages.

McNary's special teams and defensive snap counts and production increased by the week. He played 40 of the Colts' 131 defensive snaps during playoff games with Kansas City and New England. He made 11 tackles, the team's fourth best total.

"Light-years," was the term Pagano chose to describe McNary's progress, abetted by the canny coaching of Colts linebackers boss Jeff FitzGerald.

The challenges keep coming.

The Colts signed D'Qwell Jackson, a free agent inside linebacker from the Cleveland Browns, to a four-year, $22 million contract during the offseason.

Freeman plays virtually every snap. Pagano calls Jackson "a three-down linebacker." So where does McNary fit this season? Does he fit?

"We've got great competition. You've got 'Free,' you've got D'Qwell, got Josh, got other guys," Pagano said during the offseason's final workouts, mandatory minicamp.

"We just want to get out of shorts, get to training camp, get the pads on, get some preseason action and let things shake out."

That's good enough for McNary, the forever-walk-on. McNary will, to pick a phrase, soldier on. He always has.

It's the family way. George III is an electrical engineer with Halliburton. Josh is a West Point man. Younger sister, Gabrielle, is a Johns Hopkins graduate who recently completed a one-year Masters of Bio-Science program. She is applying to medical schools.

They are achievers, every one.

"We were raised by a military officer," George III reasoned.

"We raised them to do their homework, go to church and be involved in extracurricular activities," countered George II. "They deserve all the credit."

Soldier, sportsman, teammate

Josh was never deployed, but he knows well the military ethos, the code. He knows soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines don't serve and die for democracy, like the storybooks say. They serve and die for one another, for their squadmate, their crewmate, their wingman, their buddy.

They have each other's backs. They are teammates. They are a team. They do their parts. That's how it works. The correlation between sport and military is fist in glove.

Mumford spent 14 years at West Point, as defensive ends coach, defensive line coach, defensive coordinator and interim head coach. He knows the drill.

"Every general (rank) officer who came by and addressed the team, it was the same mantra every time: 'The values you learn right here on the football field are going to make you a great officer and leader in the army,' " recited Mumford, who called McNary "the most explosive athlete" he saw in those 14 years at West Point.

" 'Discipline, teamwork, accountability … It's not the big picture. It's about the guy on your right and left.' "

At 57 and a civilian, Mumford is prohibitively unlikely to go off to war, but if he were to, he said, he would want Josh McNary in his foxhole.

That's right where the Colts have him. Their faith in the former cannon-cocker, the one-time long shot, is being well rewarded. As McNary might put it, he has done "OK, I guess you could say," he has, "kind of managed to excel" once again.

Believe him.

Email Star reporter Phil Richards at phil.richards@indystar.com and follow him on Twitter at @philrichards6.