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TAMPA - The name, it was vaguely familiar. The face, a little less so.
Still, there was something oddly comforting about Todd Yoder on Sunday. Something that seemed recognizable and felt, well, intimate.
You watched him catch a touchdown for the first time in his NFL career and you were moved. You watched him catch a second touchdown, a short time later, and it finally became clear.
It was his dream you recognized.
After all, it's yours too.
Who among us has not wished for Yoder's day? What volunteer firefighter has not dreamed of saving a life? What novice stockbroker has not imagined finding the perfect tip? And what career backup has not pictured himself in the painted portion of a field with a football sailing toward him?
It was a weekend when a linebacker from Ohio State purposefully choked a prone Wisconsin quarterback. A weekend when a gutless Boston pitcher threw a fastball behind a batter's head. A weekend when a 72-year-old baseball guru behaved like an enraged child and the mayor of New York supported him.
That was the weekend Todd Yoder made you remember that the spoiled do not always dominate sports.
"You're happy for him because we're all in a situation like Todd Yoder," tight ends coach Art Valero said. "Every day when he goes to work, every morning when he gets up, he has to prove his worth to continue to maintain his livelihood. I think a lot of us, if we look at ourselves, we're in that situation. You don't do your job each and every day? You don't have one."
Four years, Yoder has had this job. Four years of flying under the radar. Four years of surviving training camp cuts.
The typical NFL career is usually finished before your current car loan. It's an unforgiving league with an endless stream of replacement parts.
The stars have bonuses. They have some measure of security. They have name recognition and they have a past to point to in times of need.
The Yoders of the NFL have nothing but today. This practice, this game, this tackle on a kickoff return.
The Tampa Bay roster has undergone tremendous change in Jon Gruden's two seasons. Of the 53 players on the active roster, only 23 predate Gruden's arrival. Most of those names are familiar. A Brooks, a Barber, a Sapp, a Lynch. And then there's a Yoder. Amazingly, there's still a Yoder.
He has never been higher than the third-string tight end. When he first arrived, he was more like No. 6 or 7 in training camp.
Yoder was an undrafted free agent out of Vanderbilt. His prospects were so low, he was not even invited to the NFL combine before the draft.
The valedictorian of his high school class in Indiana, Yoder had earned a degree in chemistry while at Vanderbilt. Medical school was beckoning. To most, the NFL seemed like a lark.
"I think people were pretty much laughing at him," said Yoder's wife, Susan. "Maybe not to his face, because he's a big guy, but I don't think anybody really took him seriously. It's not like Vanderbilt is a great football program. How realistic was this for a guy who wasn't drafted?"
Yoder, 25, survived because he understood what it took for a fringe player to stand out. He was smarter. He was hungrier. He was more determined.
He played special teams. He treated practices as if they were the real thing. When told he was a subpar blocker, he went home after his rookie season and gained 25 pounds of muscle.
Yet every year, it seemed, the Bucs looked for new tight ends. Ken Dilger was signed. Rickey Dudley and Daniel Wilcox too. Will Heller was added this summer. The Bucs drafted tight ends in 2000, '01 and '02.
A lot of those guys are gone.
Yoder lives on.
"Every year, we know it might end. This year, more than ever," Susan said. "He got dehydrated at camp and missed the trip to Tokyo. Will was playing really well. I was preparing myself that this might be it. You know we just had the baby, we just bought a house and I kept thinking the timing couldn't be worse."
The first three years, Yoder had visions of moving up the depth chart. He kept thinking the next year would be better than the last.
By this season, the dreams had begun to fade. He had been told he was a special-teams guy for so long, he figured it was his destiny.
Then Dudley went down at the end of training camp. Dilger got hurt early in Sunday's game. By default - and determination - Yoder had become No. 1.
A guy who had seven receptions in his first three years in the NFL caught four on Sunday. Two were in the end zone.
"When he came home last night, he literally put his head down and said, "I'm so happy I could cry,' " Susan said. "It was just this sense of relief and elation at the same time. I've never seen him that excited.
"After four years, I think he was very proud of himself. And he deserved to be proud of himself."