"I'm not afraid of getting hit. I play dangerously because I am dangerous," the gunslinger quarterback talks to ESPN on his long-awaited return after his near career ending injury.

By Josephine Lawrence
ESPN contributing writer

CLEMSON, SC — On the field, Reid Donahue has made a name for himself - quite literally - having been dubbed "The Archer" for the bow and arrow celebration he'd do after launching a 50-yard touchdown pass to one of Clemson's talented wide receiver core. Deep passes accounted for almost 50% of his touchdowns during his electric sophomore year - the other 50% being rushing plays, some intentional and some not. But no matter how it was drawn up, Reid had stiff-armed, hurdled, and juked out defenders in such impressive fashion that it became commonplace to see highlights of him all over social media. His off the cuff touchdown celebrations and confident (borderline cocky) attitude only seemed to add to the highlight reel. He got in other players' faces - and he enjoyed it.

"I never had Twitter, so I'd only ever see what people were saying about me when my teammates would show me," Reid admits to me as drive away from Clemson in his impossibly large Ford Raptor. When I jokingly asked him who needed a truck so big, he replied very calmly, "My ego." The tones in his humor are so flat, it takes a moment to realize he's kidding. But that seems to be who he is now - the lethally serious competitor is the outer shell that we all see, but there's layers underneath that are reminiscent of a little kid who loves football, and knows that it is supposed to be fun (sort of). But it took Reid months of sitting in the dark of self-reflection to get to that point.

The Broadway Diner is not far enough removed from the sanctity of the university for him to be unrecognizable (several mostly middle-aged men came up to us to shake his hand and wish him good luck this season), but it's a place of comfort to him, as his aunt and cousin both work there and keep a never-ending plate of fries in front of us.

"I'll never forget after we beat Virginia Tech that year, their inside linebacker who was one of their defensive captains said after the game that I was very impolite, and that I got nasty with him."

When I asked Reid what he'd said to him during the game, he smirked in a musing way, almost nostalgic for that memory. "I remember lowering my shoulder and kind of running over him to get into the end zone. He didn't like that, he got up and got in my face, and I just told him you f**king suck."

Within the microcosm of the sports world, Reid can handle the attention. He thrives on it. He's been as high as being the focal image of Sportscenter's broadcast on the Heisman Trophy race to being as low as a game-ending interception thrown against a top 5 North Carolina defense getting picked apart by 5,000 people on social media. He doesn't care, he takes it all in stride.

However, it helps that Reid has the awareness that his public image on a national scale is pretty lowkey. If he went out and about in a place like Los Angeles, or New York City, most people wouldn't look at him twice - and if they did, it's only because at 6'5" he towers over 95% of the crowd. After all, he's not exactly a Kardashian, and when most (if not all) of what makes him good is done wearing a helmet, putting a face to his name is not something the general population could do.

But late November of that dynamic sophomore season, he'd become a subject of fascination outside the familiarity of that microcosm, when he'd gone viral on social media again - this time for an injury he sustained during the Thanksgiving weekend game against in-state rival, the University of South Carolina. Suddenly it wasn't just sports news covering it - it was regular, ABC channel 7 news, circulating the image of Reid being carted off the field with a soft cast on his leg and a towel over his head, hiding what he tells me were "tears of excruciating pain."

Reid suffered a compound fracture to both his tibia and fibula in his right leg - but that was nowhere near the worst of it. Reid would need 10 more surgeries over the course of the following three and a half months to further treat a flesh-eating bacteria that had spread as a result of the initial operation to fix his leg. The resulting scars from the muscle and tissue grafts are "f**cking disgusting," he says, but he doesn't go out of his way to hide them.

"I couldn't bring myself to do anything football-related for months," he admits. "I wouldn't even watch the Superbowl that season. There was almost this feeling of jealousy, watching those guys get to do what I couldn't. So, I got really into the Sopranos, it was like the only thing I'd watch."

Reid goes off on a tangent (which he does when he's got strong opinions about something) about the way the show ended when milkshakes are brought to our table. I ask him if there was a defining moment that helped reshape his mindset, and there's a pause as Reid tears into his burger (extra everything, as he orders it from his aunt) and his chocolate shake.

"It was the summer before I moved back to Clemson for my junior year. I was walking on my own by then. Slowly and with a brace, but still on my own. I would drive over to my old high school and do a few laps around the track, and one day there were a bunch of kids running around the field and tossing the football around. I wasn't sure how long I stood there just watching them, but eventually they came up to me and asked me if I could throw the ball around for them. I wasn't sure if they knew who I was or just saw me as someone who looked like I could participate. I didn't really have any mobility, but they didn't care. So I'd just stand flat-footed and chuck the ball up for them, cackling and running around like a bunch of hyenas. It was nice to just...have fun."  

For all the things that injury took away from Reid that season and the one that followed (including but not limited to the ACC single-season scoring record, a potential playoff/national championship appearance, and a possible Heisman Trophy) the one thing it gave him was the opportunity to fall back in love with the game itself.

Reid is more self-aware than ever before. He knows that without the helmet, something in him almost demands it - he can be the guy that has a laugh with a bunch of 10-year-olds who just want to toss a football around and let it be just that, but when the time comes, he can turn into the lethal competitor that college football fans expect of him.

Clemson begins their season as the kickoff game of the entire college football season against Georgia - who Clemson lost the 2022 national championship to - and it will be Reid's first real game back in almost two years. He's not nervous, he tells me. In fact, the forced detachment from football has almost made the prospect of getting back on the field that much more exciting. "I'm ready to run over some guys and tell them they f**cking suck."

So as Reid shows me the right way to dunk fries into a milkshake, there's almost a refined, stoic ease to him, which may come as a surprise to a lot of people who don't know who he is when the helmet is off. But he'd dragged himself through hell - mostly on one leg - to get to where he is now, and he's ready to show the world what The Archer has become.

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i'm a little out of practice but i hope y'all enjoyed this! i figured posting jo's actual written article would be more fun than just telling y'all that she wrote and posted the article and also gives some more insight on reid that isn't in the story! would love to know your thoughts <3