Any impatience Andrew Mukuba felt on draft weekend hearkened back to the day he was picked last.Technically, he wasn’t picked at all.Back then, in the grassy field of Norman Elementary in Austin, Texas, the new kid from Zimbabwe experienced the quintessential American hierarchy of adolescence: picking teams. Shannon Crenshaw, the P.E. teacher, stood there with a football on his hip, watching as his fifth-graders kept passing over the boy who was different. Eventually, Crenshaw intervened.He forced little Andrew onto a team, initiated the game as its all-time quarterback/referee, and flung the first pass away from Mukuba’s side of the defense because he didn’t know if the kid knew how to play.“Well, Andrew’s flying down there, and he just form tackles this kid,” Crenshaw said. “Like, boom! Like, Bobby Boucher.”Crenshaw threw it away from Mukuba again. Boom. The teams switched sides. Crenshaw chucked a deep ball just to see if the kid could catch it. Mukuba tracked it, snagged it, housed it.“I’m like, ‘This game over,'” Crenshaw said. “‘You know what? Y’all keep playing. I’m gonna give y’all the ball. Andrew get your butt over here, I need to talk to you.'”Another ballhawk is heading to Philly.Crenshaw and his wife also ran a little league team. They convinced Mukuba’s parents to let the fifth of their seven children join a sport stranger than soccer by arranging rides to games and practices that weren’t too far from the family’s home in the east Austin projects. At first, football was a novelty. The family laughed when the Crenshaws first brought Mukuba home; he was still wearing the helmet and shoulder pads that made him look like a little gladiator.Laughter was an improvement for the Mukuba family. Andrew (who goes by Drew) was born in Zimbabwe in 2002, after his parents and older siblings fled their home in the war-ravaged Democratic Republic of the Congo. He grew up in a refugee camp that sometimes lacked running water and electricity. He was 9 when an Austin-based resettlement program helped the Mukuba family immigrate to the United States in 2012.“You can’t forget the hard times,” Mukuba said after the Philadelphia Eagles drafted him at No. 64. “Obviously, that makes you become who you are.”If there’s a central theme for the second-round safety, who in December turned 22, it’s self-awareness of the developmental track he’s on.A quiet kid from southern Africa proved his little league worth by dusting teammates such as Latrell McCutchin (now a cornerback at the University of Houston) in competitive sprints. A two-way highlight machine at LBJ High launched his Clemson career by starting at safety from the jump (which hadn’t been done there since 1973) and securing a freshman All-American selection. A three-year starter sensed his own stagnation and eschewed going pro for a final season at Texas, where his team-high five interceptions embodied the sort of playmaking safety the Eagles coveted under a rookie contract after their budget-oriented trading of C.J. Gardner-Johnson.“This guy just did everything,” Eagles general manager Howie Roseman said. “Checked all the boxes.”That the Eagles invested a second-round pick on a safety for the first time since 2011 reflects both the value they see in Mukuba and the urgency they feel about their vacancy opposite Reed Blankenship.Could Mukuba start for the Eagles immediately, as he did at Clemson? Could he fulfill a platoon role as a dime defender? The initial phase of a long-term plan depends on the progress of a rookie with a reputation for being a quick study.Jahmal Fenner met with his incoming 10th-grader to identify goals.As the head football coach at LBJ High, Fenner had seen Mukuba light up his junior varsity squad as a freshman at nearby Reagan High. Mukuba, sitting out his sophomore season at LBJ due to state transfer rules, wanted the same goals as most kids: get faster, stronger, smarter.
Mukuba’s one-year absence from the field gave him an unusual runway to hash out a future that wasn’t yet entirely devoted to defense.“I liked to score touchdowns,” Mukuba said.Mukuba worked as a wideout the following summer at his first recruiting camp. He left with no scholarship offers. At another camp the following week, Fenner advised Mukuba to work out as a safety. Arizona and Arkansas both offered. Mukuba, who hadn’t yet played a down of varsity ball, said that’s when “reality kicked in” that he was “meant” to play safety.Mukuba dedicated himself to defense and sought dependability in his development. He chose Clemson over Texas and LSU because its coaching staff appeared more stable. Moving a thousand miles away to South Carolina was a considerable decision for Mukuba, whose mother, Tshala Bilolo, didn’t fully understand the system that contained her son’s vision.Bilolo, who mainly speaks Swahili, worked several jobs to support her children. She entrusted Crenshaw with much of Mukuba’s direction in sports. Crenshaw remembers how aggrieved Bilolo felt when they watched Mukuba shut the door to his apartment after they first dropped him off at Clemson, how it fully hit her that they were leaving behind the son she’d been safeguarding since she left Zimbabwe. Crenshaw told Drew’s younger brother, Fatu, to translate assurance to his mother: This is going to change his life forever.Indeed, Mukuba’s stock skyrocketed during a 2021 season in which the ACC named him the conference’s defensive rookie of the year. He still credits his initial understanding of defenses to Brent Venables, Clemson’s former longtime defensive coordinator, who primarily deployed Mukuba at free safety. But Oklahoma hired Venables as its head coach the following offseason, and Mukuba grew dissatisfied with his progress while playing less prolific football for two seasons as Clemson’s primary nickel. He transferred home to Texas, which had hired Fenner the year before as its director of player development and high school relations.They identified goals together, just as they’d done before.“You’ve got one year,” Fenner said he told Mukuba. “So, you’ve got to lock in, and you’ve got to make sure your lifestyle matches what you say you want to do.”“Dad, I can’t hear the TV ’cause you’re talking.”Blake Gideon laughed at catching a stray from his 4-year-old son, Barrett, while talking passionately about his former safety on speakerphone.“Please put that in the article,” said Gideon, Georgia Tech’s newly hired defensive coordinator and former Texas safeties coach.Parenting is a balance, as Gideon and Mukuba both know.Mukuba did it at Texas with a distinct maturity Gideon says he didn’t have at Mukuba’s age. Mukuba’s son turned 1 shortly after his only fall camp with the Longhorns. Gideon, a father familiar with sleepless nights, once checked in with Mukuba on how he was managing.“He just has this big smile on his face,” Gideon said. “Like, ‘No, man. I’m good.’ Like, ‘It’s tough, you know, and I’m sleepy in the morning sometimes but I love doing this.'”The story underlines what Gideon says is the “most impressive thing” about Mukuba. There’s a quiet confidence in the way Mukuba carries himself through his responsibilities. It permeates his persona. His silence is often misinterpreted. Gideon initially misread it himself. Mukuba didn’t speak up in position meetings during fall camp, so Gideon tried to stump his newest safety by asking a question about concepts they’d covered three weeks prior. Mukuba schooled Gideon instead.“He’s not going to fill up the dead silence with a bunch of bulls—,” Gideon said. “You know what I mean? Like, his words are meaningful. He’s a genuine guy. There’s a purpose behind everything he does.”Mukuba’s purpose at Texas was to essentially prepare himself for the NFL by returning to free safety and resuming the progress he’d experienced under Venables. On-field communication is considered a prerequisite for NFL safeties, and Mukuba wasn’t in charge of checks as Clemson’s nickel. Safeties handle all the communication in Texas defensive coordinator Pete Kwiatkowski’s system. They monitor the opposing offense’s formations and splits while relaying the framework of the defense’s coverage to the linebackers.Kwiatkowski said Mukuba picked up the playbook quickly, recognizing concepts he’d already learned that were just called by another name. Gideon said Mukuba’s major hurdle was overcoming the restrictions of his perfectionism. Texas safeties were more technique-oriented than scheme-oriented. Instead of dictating every specific responsibility in a predetermined call, they were asked to understand the offensive looks they’d face, match them with a memory bank of techniques and trust themselves to make defensive calls with conviction.Mukuba had to accept he was going to make mistakes. He had to admit that mistakes were actually good because they’d equip him with the answers to future problems. Mistakes would equip him with the flexibility to quickly address offensive surprises in the middle of the game. Who can prepare for everything?“We’re not gonna nail every call,” Gideon encouraged.Mukuba hit his full stride in a midseason, a No. 1 vs. No. 5 loss to Georgia, which contained one of Kwiatkowski’s favorite plays of Mukuba’s: a first-quarter interception in which Mukuba was initially covering the weakside flats but read the play and reversed course in time to unexpectedly leap and intercept a pass he batted to himself.“He balled out of his mind against Georgia,” Gideon said.From his flats responsibility, Mukuba finds the dig route from the opposite side of the field via Beck’s eyes. Heck of a play.The Eagles most appreciate the versatility Mukuba affords them in coverage. Roseman emphasized upon drafting Mukuba that it’s “really hard to find cover safeties.” Mukuba punctuated that portion of his resume with a game-winning interception against Arizona State in the College Football Playoff quarterfinals. But versatility can be an empty buzzword. Yes, Mukuba played in different alignments at both Texas and Clemson. But to Kwiatkowski, “versatility” when directly applied to Mukuba means he’s attached to the affirmative when paired with any of the following questions: Can he play in zone coverage? Can he play in man coverage? Can he communicate? Can he blitz and beat blocks and tackle?Those specific affirmatives can support the creativity of NFL defensive coordinators such as Vic Fangio. Gideon remains convinced that the 5-foot-11, 186-pound Mukuba would’ve been a first-round selection if he’d been an inch taller and 14 pounds heavier. Kwiatkowski and Gideon have often compared Mukuba to another undersized safety Kwiatkowski coached at Washington: Budda Baker (5-10, 195), a two-time All-Pro and seven-time Pro Bowler for the Arizona Cardinals, whom Gideon says also plays bigger than his size.“He plays a lot like Budda, like he throws his s— around,” Gideon said. “He’s a coach’s dream in that respect.”
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Mukuba’s one-year absence from the field gave him an unusual runway to hash out a future that wasn’t yet entirely devoted to defense.“I liked to score touchdowns,” Mukuba said.Mukuba worked as a wideout the following summer at his first recruiting camp. He left with no scholarship offers. At another camp the following week, Fenner advised Mukuba to work out as a safety. Arizona and Arkansas both offered. Mukuba, who hadn’t yet played a down of varsity ball, said that’s when “reality kicked in” that he was “meant” to play safety.Mukuba dedicated himself to defense and sought dependability in his development. He chose Clemson over Texas and LSU because its coaching staff appeared more stable. Moving a thousand miles away to South Carolina was a considerable decision for Mukuba, whose mother, Tshala Bilolo, didn’t fully understand the system that contained her son’s vision.Bilolo, who mainly speaks Swahili, worked several jobs to support her children. She entrusted Crenshaw with much of Mukuba’s direction in sports. Crenshaw remembers how aggrieved Bilolo felt when they watched Mukuba shut the door to his apartment after they first dropped him off at Clemson, how it fully hit her that they were leaving behind the son she’d been safeguarding since she left Zimbabwe. Crenshaw told Drew’s younger brother, Fatu, to translate assurance to his mother: This is going to change his life forever.Indeed, Mukuba’s stock skyrocketed during a 2021 season in which the ACC named him the conference’s defensive rookie of the year. He still credits his initial understanding of defenses to Brent Venables, Clemson’s former longtime defensive coordinator, who primarily deployed Mukuba at free safety. But Oklahoma hired Venables as its head coach the following offseason, and Mukuba grew dissatisfied with his progress while playing less prolific football for two seasons as Clemson’s primary nickel. He transferred home to Texas, which had hired Fenner the year before as its director of player development and high school relations.They identified goals together, just as they’d done before.“You’ve got one year,” Fenner said he told Mukuba. “So, you’ve got to lock in, and you’ve got to make sure your lifestyle matches what you say you want to do.”“Dad, I can’t hear the TV ’cause you’re talking.”Blake Gideon laughed at catching a stray from his 4-year-old son, Barrett, while talking passionately about his former safety on speakerphone.“Please put that in the article,” said Gideon, Georgia Tech’s newly hired defensive coordinator and former Texas safeties coach.Parenting is a balance, as Gideon and Mukuba both know.Mukuba did it at Texas with a distinct maturity Gideon says he didn’t have at Mukuba’s age. Mukuba’s son turned 1 shortly after his only fall camp with the Longhorns. Gideon, a father familiar with sleepless nights, once checked in with Mukuba on how he was managing.“He just has this big smile on his face,” Gideon said. “Like, ‘No, man. I’m good.’ Like, ‘It’s tough, you know, and I’m sleepy in the morning sometimes but I love doing this.'”The story underlines what Gideon says is the “most impressive thing” about Mukuba. There’s a quiet confidence in the way Mukuba carries himself through his responsibilities. It permeates his persona. His silence is often misinterpreted. Gideon initially misread it himself. Mukuba didn’t speak up in position meetings during fall camp, so Gideon tried to stump his newest safety by asking a question about concepts they’d covered three weeks prior. Mukuba schooled Gideon instead.“He’s not going to fill up the dead silence with a bunch of bulls—,” Gideon said. “You know what I mean? Like, his words are meaningful. He’s a genuine guy. There’s a purpose behind everything he does.”Mukuba’s purpose at Texas was to essentially prepare himself for the NFL by returning to free safety and resuming the progress he’d experienced under Venables. On-field communication is considered a prerequisite for NFL safeties, and Mukuba wasn’t in charge of checks as Clemson’s nickel. Safeties handle all the communication in Texas defensive coordinator Pete Kwiatkowski’s system. They monitor the opposing offense’s formations and splits while relaying the framework of the defense’s coverage to the linebackers.Kwiatkowski said Mukuba picked up the playbook quickly, recognizing concepts he’d already learned that were just called by another name. Gideon said Mukuba’s major hurdle was overcoming the restrictions of his perfectionism. Texas safeties were more technique-oriented than scheme-oriented. Instead of dictating every specific responsibility in a predetermined call, they were asked to understand the offensive looks they’d face, match them with a memory bank of techniques and trust themselves to make defensive calls with conviction.Mukuba had to accept he was going to make mistakes. He had to admit that mistakes were actually good because they’d equip him with the answers to future problems. Mistakes would equip him with the flexibility to quickly address offensive surprises in the middle of the game. Who can prepare for everything?“We’re not gonna nail every call,” Gideon encouraged.Mukuba hit his full stride in a midseason, a No. 1 vs. No. 5 loss to Georgia, which contained one of Kwiatkowski’s favorite plays of Mukuba’s: a first-quarter interception in which Mukuba was initially covering the weakside flats but read the play and reversed course in time to unexpectedly leap and intercept a pass he batted to himself.“He balled out of his mind against Georgia,” Gideon said.From his flats responsibility, Mukuba finds the dig route from the opposite side of the field via Beck’s eyes. Heck of a play.The Eagles most appreciate the versatility Mukuba affords them in coverage. Roseman emphasized upon drafting Mukuba that it’s “really hard to find cover safeties.” Mukuba punctuated that portion of his resume with a game-winning interception against Arizona State in the College Football Playoff quarterfinals. But versatility can be an empty buzzword. Yes, Mukuba played in different alignments at both Texas and Clemson. But to Kwiatkowski, “versatility” when directly applied to Mukuba means he’s attached to the affirmative when paired with any of the following questions: Can he play in zone coverage? Can he play in man coverage? Can he communicate? Can he blitz and beat blocks and tackle?Those specific affirmatives can support the creativity of NFL defensive coordinators such as Vic Fangio. Gideon remains convinced that the 5-foot-11, 186-pound Mukuba would’ve been a first-round selection if he’d been an inch taller and 14 pounds heavier. Kwiatkowski and Gideon have often compared Mukuba to another undersized safety Kwiatkowski coached at Washington: Budda Baker (5-10, 195), a two-time All-Pro and seven-time Pro Bowler for the Arizona Cardinals, whom Gideon says also plays bigger than his size.“He plays a lot like Budda, like he throws his s— around,” Gideon said. “He’s a coach’s dream in that respect.”
