The last thing that Louis Vasquez expected to see on the group chat he has with some of his former San Diego Chargers teammates was the unthinkable: One of their own, wide receiver Vincent Jackson, had died.
Jackson, whose 12-year NFL career included a nine-season stint with the San Diego Chargers (2005-11) and a five-year hitch with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (2012-16), was found dead Wednesday in a hotel in Brandon, Fla., just under 15 miles from Raymond James Stadium.
Before Vasquez signed with the Broncos in March 2013, he was a Charger. A third-round pick by San Diego in 2009, he stepped into a mature locker room accustomed to success. San Diego had made the playoffs in four of the previous five seasons, and Jackson was one of the team’s leaders, having emerged as one of the NFL’s best — and toughest — downfield threats.
By the time Vasquez met Jackson, the late receiver had come a long way in his first four seasons after entering the league as a second-round pick from the University of Northern Colorado, where he became the Bears’ most accomplished wide receiver. He remains the highest draft pick ever produced by UNC.
Vincent Jackson was amazing at @UNC_BearsFB. He earned a @seniorbowl invitation with his play.
(Video via @sportsdenver)
— Andrew Mason (@MaseDenver) February 15, 2021
Some players would big-time a newcomer like Vasquez. Jackson was just the opposite.
“That’s one of the things that I will forever remember about Vincent. It didn’t matter who I was or how early on in my career I was, he always gave me the respect,” Vasquez said via telephone Monday. “If I said ‘Hi’ to him, he said, ‘Hi’ back. We conversed — quite often, actually, we would joke around.
“I actually joined him for some dinners or a night out after the game, just to kind of hang out, enjoy the win, and Vincent never made me feel like an outcast. He never gave me that ‘rookie’ deal — like, ‘Get out of here, rook,’ that type of thing. He was very inviting, very professional with me, and just one of the best teammates that I could ask for.”
Jackson was a pro’s pro. In Tampa Bay, he earned the Buccaneers’ Walter Payton Man of the Year nominee in four of the five seasons he played there.
The cornerstone of Jackson’s community presence was his work with veterans charities. Few things were closer to Jackson’s heart, as he grew up in a military family. Both of his parents served in the U.S. Armed Forces, with his father, Terence, serving 21 years in the U.S. Army.
It was the military that brought the Jackson family to Colorado Springs, where Jackson was born on Jan. 14, 1983. Military life kept the family moving; at one point, the Jacksons called Germany home. Eventually, he returned to Colorado Springs and matriculated at Widefield High School. There, he flourished on the field and in the classroom, notching a 4.1 GPA that earned him an Ivy League offer from Columbia University.
But Jackson elected to stay in his home state and take a partial scholarship to play at Northern Colorado, which at the time was in the midst of a transition from Division II to the FCS level of Division I.
Jackson’s work in his 2004 senior season earned him a Senior Bowl invitation. During the practices in Mobile, Ala., Jackson dominated and made himself into a second-round pick. That launched a pro career that made him one of the most best Colorado natives to ever make the NFL.
The first time Jackson suited up for the Chargers in a game in his home state, he scored a touchdown. In the fourth quarter of a Nov. 19, 2006 game at Invesco Field at Mile High, Jackson caught a 5-yard, fourth-quarter scoring pass from Philip Rivers. That score completed a comeback from a 17-point third-quarter deficit, putting San Diego in front en route to a 35-27 win that effectively launched the Chargers to four consecutive AFC West titles. The next time San Diego visited Denver, Jackson scored again. He was on his way.
But he didn’t stay in San Diego. A contract dispute led to a parting of the ways after the 2011 season. Jackson quickly found a home in Tampa, a city that had much in common with the two other places he’d called home in his life.
Like Colorado Springs, San Diego and Tampa are military towns. Each was an ideal venue for Jackson’s outreach. In Tampa, he hosted military families at every Buccaneers home game. He also co-wrote three children’s books aimed at kids in military families who deal with frequent relocations and the deployment of parents.
But his leadership wasn’t just about the community. In the locker room, he set an example that Vasquez tried to follow.
“Vincent, as a man, he always came in with a great attitude. It could be Monday morning after a loss, and Vincent — although he wasn’t overly cheery — he did come in Monday morning after a loss and always had a pep in his step. No matter how banged up or beat up he was, he didn’t really complain about much at all,” Vasquez remembered.
“To me, now looking back on it, it was an attitude of, ‘I was blessed with another day to get better,’ and that was kind of what I will always remember about VJ. It didn’t matter how bad practice was, how good it was, how bad the game was, if we lost, if we won, he came in and went about his business the same way each and every time.
“Again, it was just one of those deals where you just felt it, that he was just happy that he was blessed with another day to get better, and that is something that I will always remember from him.”
Jackson also put on that brave Monday morning face despite playing through some nagging injuries and pain. Despite that, he had two separate stretches in which he played three full seasons without missing a game.
“He never complained,” Vasquez recalled. “We knew he was hurting, but he never complained about how bad he was hurting.
“Vincent was a hard-working man. He came in and did his job day-in and day-out with the same tenacity. So, he was not one of those divas by no means. He was a tough, hard-nosed football player, and that’s what I admired about him.”
A tenacious player, a leader in the communities he called home and a son of the Centennial State. Jackson was all of these things, which is why the NFL — and the football community in Colorado — mourn today.
