'He's still here': C.J. Goodwin's inspiring story from long shot, to Dallas Cowboys mainstay

FRISCO — There’s a rotation of Dallas Cowboys captains every week: one on offense, one on defense, and one on special teams. It’s customary for special teams coach John “Bones” Fassel to announce his weekly captain selection with a photo of the player within the confines of the unit’s weekly scouting report.

Fassel, never missing a moment to teach a lesson, added some special features to last week’s captain announcement. He went back and found news clippings of a story that repeated itself for years.

The Steelers waive C.J. Goodwin, the Giants waive C.J. Goodwin, the Cardinals waive C.J. Goodwin, the Bengals waive C.J. Goodwin …

Therein lied the lesson, and the realization Fassel hoped his players would have when seeing the repeating headlines.

“Gosh,” Fassel said, “He’s still here.”

In a place he never thought he’d be.

Goodwin’s path to the NFL is as unique as his role. He was self-described hooper who unintentionally found his way into a brief Division II football career as a wide receiver. He was a longshot to make the NFL. It took years for him to even go from the practice squad to an active roster. The odds were against the special teams ace ever being more than a name on the transaction wire — a blip on the radar.

Instead, Goodwin has made his mark, especially on the Cowboys. He played in his 103rd career game last Sunday in Cleveland. He’s now been in the NFL — a league known for its brevity — for over a decade.

“If you can’t believe it,” Goodwin said, “Imagine how I feel.”

A farm and a foundation

Goodwin grew up in Wheeling, West Virginia — a town caught between the Ohio river and the Appalachian mountains. Its population is under 30,000. Pittsburgh, the closest landmark for those unfamiliar to the area, sits about 60 miles northwest.

With that in mind, and without explicitly saying so, Goodwin understands the skepticism of what he’s about to say.

“Even though I’m from West Virginia,” Goodwin said, “I’m a city guy.”

Or, at the very least, not much of a farmhand. He laughs when he admits he still isn’t, despite the experience.

Goodwin, thinking back to his time as a teenager, remembers the details vividly. The 300-plus acre farm was located in western Pennsylvania. It was 22 minutes away from his home, he said, speaking with the details of someone who made that drive over, and over again for years. In the early morning he would cut the grass, shovel horse manure, and help with the black angus cows on the property.

It was an adjustment for a city boy at heart.

Mel Blount, a NFL Hall of Famer and the owner at the farm, laughs when he thinks about Goodwin’s time working for him.

“I think he’s still adjusting,” Blount said with a chuckle, knowing its been years since Goodwin cut grass and shoveled horse manure. “C.J. is definitely no farm boy.”

Maybe not. But Blount saw something special in Goodwin.

Blount’s kids went to The Linsly School, a private school in Wheeling. So did Goodwin. Though his kids and Goodwin never overlapped, Blount had the chance to meet Goodwin, who was already showcasing his athletic traits as a high school kid.

Goodwin remembers the first time he met Blount, like it was yesterday.

“The first thing he said was pull your pants up and take your earrings out,” Goodwin said.

The second thing: he offered Goodwin a job on his farm.

For years, Goodwin worked on Blount’s farm. He also worked as a counselor at Blount’s youth home.

Blount and his wife, TiAnda, consider Goodwin another one of their sons. Goodwin looks at the two as guardian angels for how they helped guide him.

It started with the farm. The work wasn’t easy, especially for someone who considered themselves a city person by nature.

“But I really think it helped him,” Blount said. “Because it made him realize, if you want to get somewhere in life, hard work is not going to hurt you. I don’t care if it’s on the farm, or in the classroom, or on the football field. You’ve got to work and you’ve got to compete.”

Looking back, Blount believes that was the foundation for what Goodwin would do with his athletic career — a career that even Goodwin didn’t see coming at the time.

Goodwin began his college career as a basketball player — and a basketball player only — at Bethany College, a Division III private liberal arts college in West Virginia. He spent two years there before he enrolled at Fairmount State University as a student, and a student only. That was until he caught an alley oop from Dewey McDonald — another future NFL player — and slammed it over a member of the football team during an intramural game.

A football coach on hand told Goodwin to show up for practice the next day. He did.

Goodwin had a successful first season as a wide receiver at Fairmount State, catching 24 passes for 440 yards. He graduated and then transferred the next season to California University of Pennsylvania, another Division II school, where his former head coach at Fairmount State had landed a defensive coordinator job. He struggled to see playing time there, finishing his final college season with 11 catches, 126 receiving yards and one touchdown.

Those numbers for a Division II wide receiver don’t exactly excite professional football scouts. But Goodwin’s raw ability intrigued, if only a little bit originally. He was 6-foot-3 with a 40-inch vertical. He could run his 40-yard dash in the 4.3s. With the right training, and the right opportunity, agents told him he’d have a chance at potentially playing in the Canadian Football League.

Josh Pyles thought Goodwin had more potential than that — after some initial skepticism.

Pyles has trained a ton of athletes. He’s received many inquiry phone calls. Goodwin’s stands out because he introduced himself as a “hooper” who wanted to train for his Division II school’s upcoming pro day.

“I’m like alright, we’ll see where this goes,” Pyles recalled.

It took one evaluation before Pyles was sold on Goodwin’s potential. He saw measurables that he considered to be elite among NFL prospects in the 2014 NFL Draft. He told Goodwin if he could give him five hours a day for six days a week over a six-week span, that he could promise that Goodwin would be playing professional football somewhere.

The NFL? That’s not something Pyles could promise. That’s because being in the NFL isn’t only about talent; it’s also about opportunity.

Goodwin had a successful pro day at his college, but the interest wasn’t there. Pyles said he reached out to someone in the NFL wondering why. Teams wanted film to pair with athleticism, Pyles was told, and Goodwin didn’t have much. Eventually, Pyles got Goodwin into a regional pro day so he could show his athleticism to even more scouts.

Goodwin remembers some initial interest from over half the teams in the NFL. But once again, nothing materialized.

As time went on, Goodwin thought of another idea. He had worked on Blount’s farm for years. Maybe Blount, a Steelers legend, could reach out to someone with the Steelers and see if they could get Goodwin a try out. Blount, knowing how special of an athlete Goodwin was, reached out to Kevin Colbert, the Steelers general manager at the time, and head coach Mike Tomlin to see if they would take a look at Goodwin.

The tryout was successful, and a couple weeks later Goodwin received a voicemail from the Steelers, saying they were signing him to the practice squad.

“I wish I kept that message … it was the happiest time outside of having my kids, going home and telling my mom as she busted out in tears,” Goodwin recalled. “And nothing was guaranteed.”

Goodwin’s contract wasn’t guaranteed. He ironically pointed out that he actually had to spend his own money to go up to Pittsburgh for a tryout and subsequently to sign a practice squad deal. He understood that he could be cut from the practice squad before he ever played a game in a Steelers uniform.

Goodwin never did. He was on the practice squad with the Steelers for a year. He was waived before the 2015 season. It took three months before he signed with the Atlanta Falcons practice squad.

Early on, Goodwin dealt with what could be described now as imposter syndrome. He was a self-described hooper, not a football player. Sure, he was an athlete, but he only had a brief college career to his name. His coaches would tell him to just play and showcase that athleticism.

“But it wasn’t clicking, because I never felt like I earned it,” Goodwin said, “even though I was working out twice a day … I was working harder than anyone, but I didn’t realize I earned this position.”

Until he did. In 2016 Goodwin finally broke through as a defensive back and a special teams player. He played in 17 games that season, including the Super Bowl against the New England Patriots, where he played 16 snaps on defense and made three tackles.

Goodwin played another 12 games in Atlanta the next season before the headlines started repeating. He was waived, and waived, and waived again.

There were times where Goodwin thought about quitting. He had not only made it to the NFL, but he had played in a Super Bowl — a place many NFL players don’t go. That feeling, and that the idea of beating the odds in a league he never thought he’d be in, should be enough, right?

Wrong, Pyles told him. He told him that he wouldn’t talk to him again if he quit.

“You’ve got an opportunity to do some great things,” Pyles recalled telling him.

So they continued to work. And they waited. And eventually, Goodwin signed with the Dallas Cowboys in 2018. He’s played in 75 games since then, becoming a mainstay and a leader in the team’s special teams unit.

That doesn’t mean it was always a certainty that he would be on the roster during that span.

A battle and a badge of honor

There was one more news clipping that Fassel used to announce that Goodwin would be the special teams captain in Cleveland. It was from last season.

Goodwin out for the season with a torn pec

As Fassel put it, it was another dent that Goodwin overcame. And like the rest of them, it wasn’t easy.

Goodwin entered training camp this season on the roster fringe. There aren’t many players who can justify being almost exclusively a special teams player, but Goodwin has done that in Dallas. It was fair to wonder this off-season if Goodwin, a age 34 and coming off a torn pec, would justify it again.

Goodwin wonders it, too.

“It happens ever year,” he said. “It is what it is. It’s a fight every year.”

And it’s a fight that Goodwin has consistently won. A new crop of rookies and hungry undrafted free agents enter the league every year, and Goodwin continues to stand.

Pyles was hoping that Goodwin would stand on the active roster for the Cowboys, once again. On cutdown day, he constantly refreshed Google to see if Goodwin’s name was on the chopping block. It wasn’t out of a place of nervousness, he said — he just wanted to see Goodwin get what he believed Goodwin deserved.

“He’s done beyond what he’s supposed to do,” Pyles said. “He’s already eclipsed what people had in their brain for what he was supposed to do in this world. It was more like, give this kid another opportunity to come back and fight coming off that previous injury he had.”

The Cowboys gave Goodwin that opportunity.

Ultimately, that’s what Goodwin says his story is about. He believes if you get an opportunity, you “fight like hell” to make the most of it. He had the opportunity to work on Blount’s farm, which eventually opened his door to the NFL. He had the chance to train with Pyles, which helped him showcase his athleticism. He had the chance to join the Cowboys and eventually work with Fassel, who has become a teacher and an advocate for Goodwin.

“Bones makes it a point to tell my story,” Goodwin said.

Because after a decade in the league, the longshot is still here.