The Tragedy of Tua Tagovailoa
Luke Braun broke down Tua Tagovailoa, his essential tragedy, and what he might represent for any franchise willing to take him on.
Imagine yourself in Tua Tagovailoa’s shoes.
It’s Jan. 8, 2018. You’re on the field at Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta, playing in the College Football Playoff National Championship against the Georgia Bulldogs.
You weren’t supposed to be here. As Jalen Hurts’ backup, you were supposed to support from the sidelines. But Hurts struggled. After a scoreless first half with just 21 passing yards, coach put you in.
You’ve played before, but it was mop-up duty in blowout wins. This is the first meaningful action of your collegiate career. You’re down 13-0 in a hostile stadium, facing down a Georgia roster littered with NFL talent. You are 19 years old.
But you found a rhythm. You came back to tie the game and send it into overtime. Georgia scored a field goal on the first possession, so a touchdown will win it.
On first down, disaster.
It’s your fault. You could have thrown a high floater to the running back, taken a chance downfield, or just eaten the sack. Anything but running backwards. Now, even a game-tying field goal is in question.
What do you do when you screw up? How do you react? Is it easy to admit, to learn from? Does it affect the rest of your day? Do you wallow in self-pity, or ignore it and move on without skipping a beat?
For Tua, it’s familiar territory. Comfortable, even.
Greek tragedies, like those of Sophocles or Euripides, contain moments like this before the inevitable
Tagovailoa’s story is not complete. It is trending the way of these Greek tragedies, however. This victory was a long time ago. He will see more triumphs. But throughout that time, the seeds of his downfall were sown.
How To Tell A Story Like Sophocles
Classically, tragedies have three main factors: A noble, likeable protagonist, a fatal flaw in that protagonist that will inevitably lead to his downfall (often hubris), and the downfall itself. Tua’s story has all three.
Our protagonist must overcome a lot to find success. Tagovailoa started his football career at eight years old in Pop Warner, but before that, his father had dreams of his son becoming the next big football player.
College Gameday featured the Tagovailoa family in a well-intended 2018 puff piece, attempting to paint a picture of a tight-knit family breeding success in the unlikely setting of ‘Ewa Beach, Hawai’i. Instead, the segment invited scorn over Galu Tagovailoa, Tua’s father, and his training methods.
He’d take a toddling Tua to the beach for training, well before an appropriate age for any kind of work ethic to be expected. If Tua didn’t perform in his high school football games or the classroom, he’d “get it,” later explaining that “the belt was involved.” With a sigh, his mother confirms, “He means the bible and the belt,” in response to Galu’s commitment to faith and discipline in the Tagovailoa home.
Extolling corporal punishment is no new theme for the NFL. I had my fair share of that discourse during Adrian Peterson’s child abuse scandal. I do not believe it’s right, but I must acknowledge that it is common. Common enough that Tagovailoa likely had teammates and rivals who went through the same or similar experiences.
It’s an unusual case, anyway. The laid-back beaches of Oahu do not exactly inspire the sort of blood, sweat, and tears environment that forged Tua Tagovailoa. Even more uniquely, Galu taught Tua to throw left-handed. Galu was “the only lefty in the family,” so he made his son a lefty.
But Tua is only left-handed when throwing the football. He’s naturally right-handed in everything else. Aside from the grim picture we’re painting here, that makes for an interesting dynamic called “cross-dominance”. Has Tua been throwing with his non-dominant hand for his whole career? Has this held him back?
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