INDIANAPOLIS -- All Gunnard Twyner could do to calm Zach Pascal’s restless mind was tell him what’d he heard. He sat in the offensive meetings with Frank Reich and the Indianapolis Colts coaching staff, so he knew there was a plan.
They needed to get Pascal more involved. It was time, they agreed.
Twyner, the Colts offensive quality control coach, relayed the message, but Pascal was getting antsy. To begin the season, he’d played two games, 54 snaps in a row, without receiving a single look from quarterback Jacoby Brissett. Not one target.
It’s not that Pascal didn’t trust Brissett or that the Colts coaching staff wanted to get him involved. He did. He also hadn't lost sight of what brought him to Indianapolis in the first place: his abilities on special teams and as a run-blocker. Through two games, he was excelling in both areas -- just like he had the year before. But Pascal had bigger goals for himself. A grander vision. The special teams, the run-blocking, those were supposed to be a means to an end.
This past offseason, Pascal lay in bed at night picturing himself schooling cornerbacks. Beating man-to-man coverages. Finding the holes in zones. Imagining how he’d run a route versus a corner playing outside technique. Then, afterwards, imagining how he do it versus inside technique.
There’s only so much an NFL wide receiver can daydream about run-blocking, Twyner laughed. While not every receiver loves to do it as much as Pascal, said Twyner, a former NFL wide out, they all want the ball.
So, entering his third season, Pascal did what he's done his entire life: He set lofty goals, devised a plan for how to achieve them, then relentlessly attacked them.
The idea was simple: parlay his reliability as a run-blocker into becoming more involved in the passing offense. He was going to make sure his coaches didn’t have an excuse to yank him off the field in passing situations.
After the Colts' playoff loss in Kansas City when he caught one pass for seven yards, he went to work, fixing those parts of his game he didn’t like. He changed the way he caught the ball. He altered the way he ran certain routes. He spent so much time at the gym and on football fields, his mother, Deslyn, half-jokingly complained she hardly ever saw him when he was back home in Maryland.
But the work paid off. During training camp, he was dropping more jaws than passes.
“There were some routes Zach was running in training camp, we call them teach-tape routes,” Reich said recently. “When a guy runs a route that is just perfect and is going to go on a teach tape. We make a big deal about that and it just seemed like Zach was putting stuff on tape that was, ‘That’s another teach-tape route. Who is running it? It’s Zach.’”
And yet, after all that work he put in, he had little to show for it through the first two games of the season. After the second straight week with no looks, Pascal was frustrated, said Twyner, who had become the 24-year-old receiver’s sounding board.
“I told him, last year we did a study on how many plays he was in on that were blocking plays and not passing plays, and it was pretty high. We knew other teams knew that, so we had set everything up well for him to be successful,” Twyner said. “But he just couldn’t see it. Athletes, you know, they tend to have tunnel vision and can’t see anything but what's right in front of them (laughs).”
Fortunately for Pascal, what happened next was hard to miss.
In the second quarter of the Week 3 game against Atlanta, Reich called for a play in which Pascal faked a block, then ran to the end zone. With no defender in sight, Brissett hit him in stride for a touchdown.
“That play was huge,” Twyner said weeks later. “Now he starts to believe we believe in him. That’s so big for an athlete. You just want to know the people you’re playing for trust you. I think he just wanted to feel like this is all going somewhere.”
Pascal needn’t worry about that anymore. Since Week 3, he has racked up 245 yards and three touchdowns, more than any other Colts pass-catcher. His 14 catches and 21 targets each rank fourth on the team in that span, while his six receptions of 25-plus yards lead the way.
“To be honest,” Brissett said recently, “I don’t know where our offense would be without him.”
It’s gotten to the point, offensive coordinator Nick Sirianni added, where the coaching staff never wants to take Pascal off the field. Against Denver, they hardly did. He played 92.2% percent of the offensive snaps, a mere 1% less than star receiver T.Y. Hilton.
He'll likely see a similar snap count in the coming weeks while serving as the de facto No. 1 receiver with Hilton (calf) out.
“Zach may not be the best receiver we have, but he’s the most important one,” Twyner said. “He’s 100% the most complete. And that makes him a powerful asset in any offense.”
From an undrafted free agent cut four times by two different teams in less than a year to a bonafide NFL starter on an AFC contender, Pascal's quick rise through the NFL ranks has been nothing short of remarkable.
At least from the outside. To those who know Pascal best, well, they knew it was only a matter of time.
Work ethic, a letter and the love of football
For years, when Deslyn Pascal prayed for her son, she thought of a letter he wrote her.
It stands out, she said, among the dozens of letters Zach wrote for her when he was just a boy. She used to take Zach and his siblings to the library and make them write about the books they’d checked out. Immigrants from the Caribbean island of Grenada, Deslyn and her husband, Roylan Pascal, were determined for their children to live out the American Dream. Education and hard work seemed like the surest paths to success.
“My father was all work, work, work, and mom was more, 'Boy, get your butt in school,'" Pascal said. "And she used football to get me to do that. Like, 'If you don't do good in school, you ain't going to football practice.' And you don't take football practice away from me (laughs)."
One time, instead of asking them to write a letter that summarized what they’d read and learned, Deslyn wanted to know what her children dreamed about. Where did they want all that education and hard work to lead them? She assigned her children the task of writing about what they wanted to be when they grew up.
This is the letter that Deslyn held in her mind as she prayed for Zach all those years. It didn’t just include his dream of playing in the NFL, but the very path he’d take to get there.
“He wanted to get a 14-something on the SATs, go to a D1 college, then play for the New York Giants," Deslyn said. "We both loved the New York Giants, so that was his dream.
“And I’d pray, ‘God, this is so precise. This is what he wants. So if this is your will for his life, let it be done.'”
Deslyn still has that letter. Still thinks of it when she watches her son flip over a defender into the end zone like he did during his breakout game (106 yards, two touchdowns) a couple of weeks ago against Houston.
She knows how lucky she is. There aren’t many parents so privileged to watch their children live out their dreams before their eyes. She is proud of how far he's come and prouder still of how much he's had to overcome to get there.
From little-known recruit out of Dr. Henry A. Wise High School in Maryland, to undrafted out of tiny Old Dominion to cut by the Redskins and Titans, Zach's journey to the Colts has been anything but easy.
She likes talking about those stories of perseverance, but these days, the off-field stories Deslyn hears about Zach are the ones she relishes. She loves hearing that Brissett refers to her son as a "special dude" or about Pascal's routine of playing catch with kids before games -- "Pregame Passes with Pascal" he likes to call it.
She bubbles with joy when she hears that Sirianni told the Colts offense that he hopes his son, Jacob, grows up to play the same brand of technically sound, unselfish football Zach does.
"I do love hearing that," says Deslyn, who texts her son Bible verses every morning as a reminder of who this is all for. "That means I did something right."
As for the football, Deslyn and Roylan have learned to become fanatics as their son lived and breathed the game every second of his young life. She encouraged him to chase his dream, but it was never something she worried too much about for him. Even before he wrote her that letter, playing in the NFL always seemed like his destiny.
His first pee-wee football coach told her that her son was going to play in the NFL. Kind of him to say, she thought at the time, but she knew the odds. But it quickly became apparent to her that Zach had a chance to defy those odds.
As Zach grew up and more coaches and more parents repeated that first coach's refrain, she started to believe it was a possibility. Zach did, too. He did all the things he was supposed to do to make his dream a reality. But what was most impressive to his mother is how he avoided those things that could shatter his dream. If there was something that stood in the way of football, his mother said, he avoided it like the plague.
Deslyn remembers the day with perfect clarity, her teenage son, a senior in high school, bawling in the front seat of the family car, her not understanding what was wrong.
"He was screaming his head off, tears running down face," Deslyn said before asking, "'Why are you crying like that?' And I’m thinking, 'OK, he’s embarrassed, he’s hurt.' But it was nothing like that."
He had gotten into a fight with one of his teammates after practice.
"Not a fight," Zach quickly clarifies. "It was about to be a fight. ... The guy, it was this guy who was the best player on the team, and in high school, I didn't start until my senior year. Anyway, I was playing good, but he kept telling me things like I wasn't -- excuse my language -- 'I wasn't (expletive). So don't let the press blow your head up.' And I’m like, 'I'm on your team. Why you picking on me?'"
On that day, a season's worth of animosity boiled over.
"He got in my face, and I wanted to, oh man, I wanted to punch him. I was furious."
But he didn't, Deslyn remembers.
"He turned around and said to me, 'I’m crying because if I hit him, I’m going to get suspended, then I can’t play football.' I sat in the car listening to that child, and I couldn’t believe my ears. That’s when I knew he was going to be OK."
"I wouldn’t mess with the game," Pascal said. "I would never mess with the game. I love it too much."
During his 32 years of coaching, Bobby Wilder has come across plenty of players who like football. Lots of guys, Zach's Old Dominion coach said, enjoy the game. They enjoy putting on the uniform and the camaraderie of the locker room.
Zach liked that stuff, too, Wilder said. But rarely has he come across someone who loves football like Zach Pascal.
"Guys like Zach," Wilder said, "you get those guys once in a decade."
Part of the eighth round gang
Now, Twyner expects his phone to buzz on his off day. He expects to see a text message from Pascal. He doesn't even have to read it at this point. He knows it'll say something like, "Can we go catch some balls off the JUGS (machine)?" Or, "Hey, can we watch this film," or, "Can we look over that technique?"
"Seriously, on his first day of camp with us, I don't even know if he'd been here eight hours before he pulled me aside and said, 'I really want to learn this offense,'" Twyner remembers. "We've spent a lot of hours on the field together before and after walkthroughs, just him and me."
Wilder laughs when he hears those kinds of stories of Pascal in the NFL. That's nothing. He was worse at Old Dominion.
Stubborn doesn't even begin to describe it, Wilder chuckles.
His senior year, Pascal and Wilder agreed that he needed to be playing special teams. Despite his status as a star receiver for the Monarchs, they both believed that if he was going to make it to the NFL, it would most likely be as a fifth receiver -- someone who'd need to standout on special teams if he was going to have any sort of staying power.
His ability and willingness to play special teams needs to be on his college tape, they agreed. But that's where their accord ended. Wilder's rule was that if a player was going to play every snap -- or thereabouts -- on offense or defense, he could only play on two of the four specials teams.
To Pascal, this was unacceptable.
"He would literally come bother me and the special teams coach, coach (Charles) Bankins, every day with the exact same question: Why am I not starting on all four teams?" Wilder remembers. "And we'd tell him everyday, 'You're a starter. You play a ton of reps. You can't play more than two teams or you'll wear down.'"
"Coach, that will never happen," Wilder remembers Pascal telling him.
Wilder even resorted to attaching a tracking device to Pascal to convince him he was wearing himself out. The evidence was there. Pascal, who had started sneaking into special teams drills he wasn't supposed to be a part of, was more than doubling the output all of the other wide receivers.
It didn't matter, Wilder said. Pascal continued to insist he wouldn't wear down, and he didn't.
Instead, he caught 65 passes for 945 yards and nine touchdowns -- all team bests. During that season, Wilder said, Pascal played every position on offense but lineman. He was their star receiver, their wildcat quarterback, and even their fullback when they needed one. And that's after he was recruited as a corner back and talked his way into playing receiver.
Old Dominion went 10-3 during Pascal's senior year of 2016, including a victory in the Bahamas Bowl, the first bowl win in program history. That doesn't happen without Pascal, Wilder said. Not just on the field, but off. He became the heart and soul of that team his senior year.
"His work ethic, and his love of the game set the example," Wilder said. "It reverberated throughout the team. Everyone felt him all of the time."
Wilder still shows his players tape of Pascal playing special teams at Old Dominion. This is what it takes, he tells them, if you want to make your dream come true. That footage is even more effective because of the results that came from it. Pascal became the first player in program history to be invited to the NFL Scouting Combine in Indianapolis.
Wilder remembers calling Pascal with tears in his eyes when he heard the news. For Wilder, it was personal. Pascal was the first player he coached to be invited to the combine.
"If I could have picked a person to be that guy, that’s who I wanted it to be," Wilder said. "Lightly recruited out of high school, playing a different position when he got here. A guy who works so hard, you can't help but root for him."
Pascal was proud to get invited to the combine. That meant everything he had worked for his whole life was coming to fruition.
And to be the first from your program, to represent not only your school, but your hometown and your family, that was special, Pascal said. Nerve-wracking, but special.
But looking back on it now, what's meant the most to him as he's navigated the cruel realities of the NFL was not being drafted.
He's proud of it.
Sometimes, Brissett says, while they're watching film, Pascal will start shouting "eighth-round gang" when he sees players he knows weren't drafted. That's someone who understands the fight it took to get to where they are.
"I’m glad it happened," Pascal said. "I'm glad I didn't get picked. Glad I got cut. Twice. I love this chip I have on my shoulder. I don't know what I'd do without it. I feel like it made me not only a good football player but the man I am today. I don’t really trip if something's going bad anymore. You just fix it. Fix it as fast as you can.
"It’s just that continuous grind. Trying to get better, trying to get better, trying to get better. I’m still trying."
Pascal's walking away from his locker as he says this. It's time for practice. Before he gets down the hallway, though, he stops and looks back.
"Hey!" he says. "The story ain’t over. It’s just getting better."