When you google the number 35, you get a Wikipedia definition of a, “tetrahedral, pentagonal and pentatope number,” followed by several stories about the death of former Miami Dolphins cornerback Vontae Davis.
He was a first-round pick, an impact cornerback, a veteran whose trade played out, emotionally and unfortunately, on the HBO show “Hard Knocks” and who later retired at halftime of a Buffalo Bills game. But he’s something more than all that now.
He’s a number.
Thirty-five.
That number hits you. It doesn’t go far enough to say it’s an age too soon to die, as Davis did Monday in his grandmother’s Southwest Ranches home. Thirty-five is a time to transition from relative youth to the initial steps of middle age. It’s a time for people who haven’t grown up to finally do so, if they ever do, and settle down in some manner, assuming they ever will.
It’s not an age for authorities to report no foul play was found in your death, as police were saying about Davis.
It’s not an age for the teams you played for and ex-teammates to express sadness over your passing, as the Dolphins (“We are heartbroken …”) to Indianapolis Colts owner Jim Irsay (“Extremely saddened to hear …”) were doing.
Davis was the best of sports stories in some form, a youth whose troubled parents left their children for authorities to deal with until a strong grandmother stepped in and raised them. They sidestepped Baltimore gangs and trouble. They found an outlet in sports.
Two of them, Vontae and Vernon Davis, became first-round draft picks in the NFL. Vontae was such a talent as a rookie he was the talk of the game after he made a series of plays against New England’s future Hall of Fame receiver Randy Moss.
“He told me after the game, ‘If you keep working, you’re going to run me out of the league,’ ’’ Davis said of Moss.
He only played three years with the Dolphins, but it wasn’t the years that defined him. It was the stories. He could dominate at cornerback. He also showed up to practice with alcohol on his breath in a manner that caused a locker-room scene when teammates called him out.
That prefaced general manager Jeff Ireland informing him on “Hard Knocks” in 2012 that he was traded to Indianapolis.
“I want to call my grandma,’’ Davis said.
His grandma was rightfully upset that scene aired.
“They should be ashamed of themselves for what they did to him, surprising him like that and then showing it to everyone,’’ Adaline Davis said. “That’s no way to treat your people.”
Still, she expressed how the trade away from South Florida might be good to a place where, “things are less wild for a young man.” He’d have a chance to, “grow up some,’’ she said.
He played 10 years in the league before coming to the sideline after getting beaten on a pass and telling his Buffalo coaches, “I’m done.” He called his wife in the stands at halftime. He packed up his gear, got his car and drove off as the game went on.
His career became defined by such quirky moments. He also never seemed to leave that, “wild side” his grandmother spoke of. In February 2023, Davis was found sleeping on the shoulder of the Florida Turnpike in Broward when police arrived to a car accident. The car he was driving had hit a disabled car whose driver had to go to the hospital. Davis was charged with DUI.
South Florida sports has too many stories of athletes dying across the years, from the Miami Marlins’ Jose Fernandez in 2016 to the Dolphins losing three players in offseasons in the 1980s: David Overstreet, Larry Gordon and Rusty Chambers.
“It’s that time of year when you hope the phone doesn’t ring,’’ Don Shula said after the death of Overstreet in a car accident. “This time of year, no news is good news.”
Davis wore No. 21 as a player, once saying it was simply a number handed him in youth sports that he kept wearing.
Now he’s dealt a harsher number that doesn’t seem to fit.
Thirty-five.
