Size. That’s what it was. After the 1990 NFL Draft, I was left an undrafted free agent because I just wasn’t big enough for your typical NFL defensive line. At 6’1”, 245 pounds, I was 3 inches smaller and 55 pounds lighter than what teams were looking for. So there I was, 28 teams, 12 rounds, and 332 picks later, ready for my shot at proving that size didn’t matter. 

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers were the first team to give me a shot after my older brother Ervin, a linebacker for them, landed me a tryout. When I got to camp, there was talk that they wanted me to move to linebacker. Ervin told me not to, so I refused. I was a defensive end my whole life, and that wasn’t going to change. It wasn’t too long after that I was cut by the Bucs and looking for another chance. 

My next stop was Atlanta with the Falcons, but it happened again. Cut.

Minnesota was where my next chance popped up. Even though they had the NFL’s smallest defensive line, I was still considered too small. The defensive coordinator of the Vikings, Floyd Peters, told me he would give me a month to get up to 250 pounds, and if I did, he would give me a shot. 

A month goes by. I show up to another Vikings mini-camp weighing in at 245 pounds, 5 pounds away from another opportunity to prove myself. So, I go to a hardware store, looking for a way to make it to 250. That’s when I found it. A heavy chain and a small padlock. 

The next morning, I head to the Vikings practice facility to weigh in. With the chain around my waist, all held together by that small padlock, I pulled up my sweats and stepped on the scale. 

“Okay. We’ll give you a shot.” 

I weighed in at 251. One pound over what Floyd Peters needed me to be. So, he gave me a chance, and that was that.

I made the Vikings roster in 1990 and gave it all I had. Kickoff, punt return, defense, it didn’t matter where I was, I wanted to play and make a difference.

I went to the Vikings defensive line coach, John Teerlinck and asked for his help. I wanted to be a great player and wanted any and all suggestions to help me get there. Teerlinck, or as I called him, “Mr. Miyagi,” was an absolute guru, helping me reach my potential and become “John Randle.”

I put in the work every day. My mom always told me I was going to have to work for what I wanted, and I wanted to be great. I wanted to prove others that size doesn’t matter. Here I am, this “small” defensive lineman that was overlooked by every single team, working day in and day out to be where I am. 

I never thought that an undrafted free agent could make it to the Hall of Fame, but I did. I was a small dog, out to show that it ain’t about the size of the player, but about the heart, work ethic, and tenacity that breeds success. 

For many, draft day can be one of the best days of their lives. They get to put on that hat, hear their name called, live out the dream they’ve had since they were kids. But then there are guys like me, who waited, and waited, and waited to hear their name called, only for the draft to pass them by. 

Let me tell you something. The draft ain’t everything. Your name might get called, and it might not. You may have NFL teams call your agent round the clock, and your phone might sit lifeless for three days. But it doesn’t matter when it comes down to the real deal, when you are fighting to make an NFL roster, fighting to become a starter. 

And for those out there that are labeled “too small” and overlooked for it, remember that size only matters when it comes to the fight of the dog inside of you. I may have been “small,” but there wasn’t a bigger dog in the fight than me.