SOUTH BEND, Ind. -- At 7:30 on Monday morning, as I circled the running track at Krause Field on the Notre Dame campus, it was already a humid 85 degrees -- too hot to think. But with the Fighting Irish set to open practice next week, and the Indianapolis Colts reporting on Thursday, I found myself thinking about training camp, a Notre Dame running back named Rodney Culver, and the power of hope.

Common perception is that at the start of any football season, hope springs eternal. I always thought that was true at the start of a college season, but it never felt that way in the NFL.

	Rodney Culver's legacy extended beyond the field.

When Notre Dame, like every other college team, reports to camp, the atmosphere will be full of hope. Not only are these the guys with whom you play ball, they're the guys with whom you grow up. In a college training camp, it's easy to be hopeful and enthusiastic because no one gets cut.

That's not true for the Colts and the rest of the NFL. If you're one of those guys listed at either No. 1 or No. 2 on the depth chart, you're not really competing for a roster spot. You just hope to get through camp without injury. But the rest of the guys? They expect to be cut. Their only hope is that another team will take a chance on them that season.

In the summer of '92, at the start of my third training camp with the Colts, I was among the second group of guys. The team had taken cornerback Ashley Ambrose in the second round of that year's draft. And from Day One, Ambrose appeared on the depth chart as the nickel back, the backup punt returner, and the left safety on kickoff team -- all the same positions I'd played the previous year. Any NFL veteran knows a team doesn't waste a second-round pick on a guy in April with the intention of cutting him in August. So I wasn't exactly shocked when, after the last exhibition game, I was placed on waivers.

But getting cut wasn't the most important part of that training camp. That's also when I first met Rodney Culver. In the summer of '92, Culver was where I had been two years earlier. After a solid, but not spectacular college career, the Colts had drafted Culver in the fourth round. Ex-coach Ted Marchibroda gushed about Culver's speed, blocking ability, and great hands.

But the Colts never made Rodney Culver their feature back. His first two seasons netted just 471 yards and 37 receptions. And the Colts had already selected a bruiser of a runner named Roosevelt Potts -- in the second round of the '93 draft. In August of '94, after the final exhibition game, the Colts released Culver. But two days later, San Diego claimed him off waivers, and Culver spent the '94 and '95 seasons with the Chargers, backing up Natrone Means.

The last time I saw Rodney was April of '96. I had retired and was living in Marietta, Ga. Coincidentally, Culver also made Marietta his offseason home. One particularly humid morning, I went to a nearby running track for a workout. When I arrived, Culver was there, running sprints. Entering his fifth season, he was fourth on the Chargers' depth chart, and had little shot at making the team. But he was still upbeat and still maintained that collegiate purity in the midst of NFL reality.

We talked about the uncertainty of each NFL season. I told him, because of my experience, I was usually pretty cynical at the start of the NFL season because I knew most rosters had already been determined. Rodney agreed, but he also told me the politics of the game would never affect his enthusiasm. "Hey, all I know is that I'm truly blessed," he said.

Then, as he was about to leave, he did something I'll never forget. It was a single gesture, built on hope and expectation, that still resonates with me. A deeply spiritual man, he asked if he could pray with me. He took my hand and said a prayer, offering thanks that we were both healthy and had the opportunity to spend time with one another again.

That was the last time I would ever see him. Three weeks later, on May 11, Rodney and his wife Karen were among 109 people who died when ValueJet Flight 592 crashed into the Florida Everglades.

His words stay with me. I continue to believe more things are decided in the meeting room than they are on the field. But because of that long-ago encounter with Rodney Culver, and in spite of myself, the start of football season still fills me with hope.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, is chronicling the season with the Notre Dame football team for ESPN The Magazine and ESPN.com. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.