Preview Chapter One of "The Law of Love"

Chapter One: From Tough Teammate to Cease-fire

When I joined the team in 1987, the San Francisco 49ers had  already  won  two  Super  Bowls  and  were  on  their  way to two more. My new teammates included some of the most famous athletes in the world at the time—names like Joe Montana and Jerry Rice—as well as other future Hall of Famers and Pro Bowl players at almost every position.

Head coach Bill Walsh thrust me into this very visible and sophisticated locker room. He recruited me by telling me that quarter-back Joe Montana had had two back surgeries and wouldn’t be able to play much longer. I was sorry to hear about Joe’s injuries but also enthusiastic about joining the best team that any quarterback could ever want.

From the very first day I could tell that I was in for a wild ride, especially  jumping  in  as  the  new  guy  ready  to  replace  the  king. Fellow  players  and  fans  alike  naturally  felt  they  needed  to  let  me  know where their allegiance lay. I just wanted to survive. I felt the heat from whispers in every corner. But in one place it wasn’t a whisper; it was like the roar of a lion.

Defensive player Charles Haley was one of the many future Hall of Famers on the team. If Charles spotted a weakness, he would exploit it with torrid attacks in the training or locker room. Bystanders awkwardly  laughed,  but  to  the  victim  it  was  brutal.  Most  would respond in kind, trying to throw it back with more velocity. But that just emboldened Charles to ramp up the attack. 

The target that Charles attacked most vociferously was me, even though we had been teammates for five years. To him I was a threat to Joe, who needed to be defended. Anytime he got a chance, Charles sliced me down to size in front of whoever was around.

As the new guy on the team I didn’t want to counterattack; besides,  that  just  wasn’t  my  style.  It  got  so  bad  that  I  tried  to  avoid Charles  as  much  as  possible.  Every  day  I  pulled  into  the  parking lot  and  looked  for  his  car.  If  it  was  there,  I  checked  with  friendly trainers or equipment guys to see where he was so I could avoid him. Most of the time Charles set up camp in the training room, where we went for physical therapy, ice, tape for our ankles, and so on. If I needed treatment for bumps and bruises, I would handle it myself somewhere else. Better to just stay off Charles’s radar.

Even though I was recruited to replace Joe Montana, he recovered after his two back surgeries and returned to play, much to everyone’s surprise. This left me in the wings for four frustrating years. Finally Joe stepped down, and I took over as quarterback in 1991.

Tensions escalated. After Joe’s departure, we were struggling as a team, and I was struggling even more. Replacing Joe was no joke. It  all  reached  a  boiling  point  in  front  of  90,000  people  in  the  Los  Angeles  Coliseum as  we  lost  to  the  LA  Raiders  12–6.  Just  as  the clock ran out, Jerry Rice was open in the end zone, but I didn’t see him. In desperation, I threw the ball weakly to no one.

After the game Charles was furious and distraught, ranting about Steve Young being terrible and why it was all so awful. He was on a tirade and just wouldn’t quit.

Finally after no relenting, Ronnie Lott was called over from the Raiders’ locker room. Ronnie had been traded earlier that year from the 49ers to the Raiders and was trusted by all of us. He was able to calm the waters.

After that game, the weight of it all was as heavy as I can ever remember. I was no stranger to losing games, but this was different. I was dropped off at the house late at night. I slumped down in the driveway  and  sat  next  to  the  parked  car.  I  leaned  back  against  the  tire, just forlorn. I didn’t know what to do, what my next move was. I thought, well, let me just go to sleep. Just try to get ready for what is coming tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Obviously, things became more complicated in our locker room and especially for me. 

A few weeks later, we landed in Seattle to play the Seahawks and everyone jumped on the buses from the airport to the hotel. I had been distracted and was last to jump on. There was one seat left next to Charles. He looked at me and motioned to the empty seat. There was no other choice, but all the same, I was surprised at the invitation and steeled myself for more verbal jabs. I sat down in silence. I thought I was going to get an earful for the twenty-minute bus ride in the dark. But Charles didn’t say anything.

I had heard that his wife was ailing, so I said, “I’m sorry to hear about your wife. I hope she is doing better.”

He replied, “Thanks. It’s been tough.” Silence. Then he told me how they had been together in college and she had been struggling for some time. I asked him about his college days. I enjoyed hearing his story. Then he asked me if I had a family and was surprised to learn that I was single. I realized that neither of us knew much about each other, even though we had been on the same team for five years.

We chatted the whole way to the hotel, and something miraculous happened. It was as if we had seen each other—really seen each other—for the first time. There wasn’t the mutual demonization that can happen in a vacuum. I wasn’t asking Charles about his wife to impress him or win him over; I genuinely wanted to know how he and his family were doing.

Nothing  memorable  was  said.  What  was  memorable  was  the  change  in  our  relationship.  What  had  been  a  war  was  now  more  peaceful.  Sure,  he  kept  teasing  me,  but  in  a  less  caustic,  damaging  way. I even started to give it back to him, playfully in careful doses. But the war was over. It had escalated way beyond where it should have. My professional life already felt difficult beyond difficult, and to have a sense of peace in my relationship with a former enemy was just miraculous. That miracle happened because of a brief conversation between two humans who were forced to sit next to each other.

We are now great friends and laugh about those dark days. For me  it  felt  like  life  and  death.  Finding  some  measure  of  peace  was oxygen-producing.

Without  knowing  exactly  what  it  was,  I  had  implemented  the  law of love, which is loving as God loves, seeking another’s healing, expecting  nothing  in  return.  Instead  of  either  of  us  jabbing  at  the  other,  consistent  with  the  troubled  relationship  between  us  up  to  that moment, we were able to intentionally connect as human beings and share from our hearts in a vulnerable way.

That enduring lesson is what this book is about. That brief experience and many more complicated situations led me to think more about the law of love. I have studied it, thought about it, and tried to implement it for many years. This book is the result.

The  law  of  love  is  undefeated  in  human  relations  throughout history. The law of love can provide a path forward when everything else has been exhausted.

Chelsea Oldroyd