“He literally asked me, ‘You want to come with me?’ I was like, ‘Nah, I’m just gonna stick back here and throw the football around.’ And I just remember seeing him walk out — as a kid, everything seemed bigger — but maybe like 40, 50 yards deep into the water. And then he — I saw his hands waving at me, and he just dipped underwater.”

People rushed out to help, but when they got there, they couldn’t find his father. He had been dragged under by a rip tide.

“Forty-five minutes later, he floated back,” Lucas said.

“At the age of seven, I was out of having a dad, out of having my best bud, my best friend, my greatest — my best teacher, you know what I’m saying? Like, the guy that was put in this world to give me all the game that I’ve been searching for since then.”

Twenty-six years later, Lucas is a man, 6-foot-8, 327 pounds, a professional hitter with a goofball grin and the self-confidence he lacked growing up without his dad. Lucas believes his unlikely journey has led him to this moment with the Washington Commanders, where, entering the 11th season of his improbable NFL career, the longtime backup is competing for the huge role of starting left tackle and blindside protector for new franchise quarterback Jayden Daniels.

Lucas, 33, feels he’s doing well early in the competition with rookie Brandon Coleman, and unlike his first shot at being a full-time starter (his second season, with Detroit), he feels ready.

Many players who go undrafted out of college, as Lucas did out of Kansas State in 2014, get chewed up by the NFL. Their moment is darkened by the ever-present possibility of getting fired, and they’re often forced out of the league against their will, broken or brokenhearted. In his fifth year, Lucas was overwhelmed by repeated rejection and tried to quit by ignoring calls from his agent.

It was in those difficult moments Lucas felt his father’s absence most.

“Outside of my coaches and my teammates to push me and tell me I could do this, I haven’t had someone I could call on and just tell them how I’m feeling, what’s going on,” he said.

“It’s really been a me situation. Like, me figuring it out. Me going home and sitting in silence for two hours because I got beat in practice, and I’m thinking about why I got beat and how I can’t get beat no more because I’m on the edge of getting cut, and you know — I’m saying it’s been stressful. ”

As he honed his skills, Lucas has grown mentally tough, observing people around him, looking for “life tidbits” and refining who he wants to be.

In 2018, everything came together. Lucas caught a break, played well in one game for his hometown New Orleans Saints and parlayed it into a job with Chicago, where he shined. In 2020, he signed a two-year deal with the Commanders, and in 2022, he signed another. Last summer, he felt like he finally “filled myself up enough to pour into others.”

And he had an idea how: Swim camp. Every summer, NFL players host youth football camps across the country, and while he saw the value in them, he wanted to do something more personal. He attended pool parties growing up, even after his father’s death, but he still had never gone in a pool deeper than his height.

So he partnered with Son of a Saint, a nonprofit organization for fatherless boys in New Orleans, and figured he could show boys like him how to be a man and teach them a potentially lifesaving skill.

“I live in New Orleans, Louisiana,” Lucas said. “We are currently seven feet under sea level. In New Orleans, we get flooding. Hurricane Katrina, it was flooding for 45 days.”

This year, at his second camp, the only boy scared of the water was too big for anyone but Lucas to hold while learning to doggy paddle. Lucas encouraged him to go into the pool, urging him to fight their fear together.

“Trust me,” Lucas said. “I won’t let you drown.”

Weeks later, Lucas left New Orleans for training camp extra motivated. His girlfriend — with whom he bonded, in part, over missing a parent — is pregnant with their first child, a son, due in early November. Sometimes, when Lucas notices her belly growing, it makes him want to go outside in the sun and practice.

“When he gets here, I just want him to see his daddy doing the right thing.”

Lucas wants to teach his son all the lessons he had to gather from others, such as how to mow the lawn or drive on the highway. He’s picking up even more from Instagram and TikTok. He hopes to one day teach his son to play tackle.

And he wants to throw his son in the water. He wants him to flail on his own at first, to fight to float, because he believes struggling will help his son get comfortable. Even if he doesn’t like to swim, Lucas’s top priority is for his son to never feel how he sometimes felt around water.

“He’s not gonna have a fear of it,” he said.

We have been working like mad on fixing the house up to get it ready for our wedding. Neither of us is very experienced with DIY, so it’s been a difficult, stressful process and caused some tension between us. We were discussing what kind of flooring to get for the front hall, and I wanted the more expensive but easier-to-work-with stuff. We got into a fight that escalated to the point of him accusing me of being a gold digger who was after his money. I was in shock and asked him why he would think that, and he said, “Because you told me about how you grew up poor,” and he’s had the thought in the back of his head since we bought the house. He told me he has a spreadsheet where he keeps track of how much he’s spent on me versus how much I’ve spent on him and he has spent thousands more on me, not even counting the money his parents gave us.

I told him that didn’t sound right since we split all costs 50/50, and he admitted it included my engagement ring. It is a family heirloom his great-aunt gave him, but he was counting the value of it.

Later he apologized, but I’m still hurt and angry. I feel paranoid that maybe his family said something. I’m really sad that all this time I’ve been loving him and thinking he was wonderful, and he’s been thinking this way about me and even documenting it so he could throw it in my face.

He’s said the spreadsheet is just an “anxiety thing” and he loves me and wants us to work on fixing things. I think I do, too, but then I think of what he said and I get overwhelmed. How can I get over this?

“Gold Digger”: Whoo. I don’t know. I don’t know that I could.

He not only has kept the thought in the back of his mind for months? years? that you have poor values and ulterior motives and can’t be trusted, but kept records in the event he needs to prove it.

I wish I had a more hopeful answer for you. But he either lashed out impulsively and didn’t mean it, or accidentally told the truth — those are the only two choices — and the first is a stretch when there’s a spreadsheet as evidence of the second.

Plus, the first is so vicious in its own right.

He says he loves you, okay. But trusts? Respects? Believes in?

Does he feel lucky every day to be the person you chose?

Best case, “just an ‘anxiety thing,’” still casts you as a threat to be controlled. So the “work on fixing things” doesn’t sound like DIY, but instead couples counseling at the least.

The family paranoia, by the way, is wasted stress — each of you stands on your own authority in choosing your partner, 100 percent, or you’re not ready to be anyone’s partner. If he’s that susceptible to their influence, then the problem is still between the two of you, so that’s where your attention belongs.

The “Cyber Crisis: Saving Tina Peters” event was aimed at rallying support for the former clerk of Mesa County, Colo., who faces charges accusing her of tampering with election equipment three years ago. Peters has pleaded not guilty, and her case goes to trial next week.

Byrne called out law enforcement and prosecutors during the forum, saying they would face violence if they did not drop the case.

“If you have any brains at all, which I’m not sure they do, they should be throwing in the towel and just surrendering and dropping this case against Tina because those who don’t are going to end up facing a piano wire and a blowtorch before this is over if I have anything to do with it,” Byrne said. “So I know that’s probably another felony, but f— it — threatening them like that — but there we are.”

Byrne, who said he was participating in the event from Azerbaijan, accused law enforcement of committing treason and claimed he had been hacking Venezuela’s government for two years.

“I don’t care how many felonies I’ve committed, and I don’t care that I’m committing felonies by threatening you,” he said of law enforcement. “You folks do your job or when this is over, the folks who are part of this are going to be facing, you know, piano wire and blowtorches before this is over. So you start doing your job and stop worrying about me.”

Byrne said Friday that his comments were “obviously a metaphor.”

“Please be aware that my turns of phrase like that are metaphoric expressions,” he said by text message. “There’s been no one more committed to peaceful resolution of this than I.”

He said his views on peace do not extend to people like former ambassador Manuel Rocha, who pleaded guilty this year to serving as a secret agent for Cuba for decades. “The only exception to peaceful resolution will be for any who turn out of Cuba and Venezuela, such as ambassador Rocha,” Byrne said by text message.

Byrne noted it was 4 a.m. in Azerbaijan when he participated in the event on X, and he may not have spoken as carefully as he otherwise would.

Spokespeople for the Colorado attorney general’s office and Mesa County district attorney’s office did not immediately comment Friday.

Byrne’s comments come three-and-a-half months ahead of the presidential election, as scholars, law enforcement agencies and election administrators raise alarms about the risk of political violence. Election officials have faced an onslaught of threats and harassment since the 2020 election and the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol by a mob chanting about Donald Trump’s false election claims.

Two weeks ago, Trump was injured during an assassination attempt that left one of his supporters dead at a rally in Butler, Pa. The violence fueled new warnings of the risk to public officials and ordinary Americans, regardless of their political views.

Before today’s combustible political environment, the phrases Byrne used might have prompted outreach by authorities to advise against using such language, said Paul Charlton, a former U.S. attorney under President George W. Bush. These days, state and federal officials tend to take such talk more seriously. Byrne’s language, he said, “sounds not only like a threat but a confession and an acknowledgment that it could be a felony to make such a threat.”

Words alone can be sufficient to prosecute threats against public officials if authorities can show proof of intent to do harm, he said.

“That is an instance in which, in my mind, it is very much worth law enforcement’s attention,” Charlton said.

Byrne’s repeated references to the Peters trial — and the prosecutors involved in it — are important aspects of his overall comments, said Carol Lam, a former U.S. attorney for the Southern District of California who was also appointed by Bush.

“Because he references a specific trial and he’s talking about the people who are bringing the case, that should be very troubling to law enforcement,” she said. Even if he said he was speaking metaphorically, she added, “What does that matter if someone went out and bought piano wire at his suggestion?”

Two hours after The Washington Post contacted Byrne, he posted a statement on X that reiterated what he told a reporter about meaning his comments metaphorically. He said he wanted people to remain peaceful, but added information would come out that would “test our ability to remain peaceful and my ability to contribute to that cause.”

Byrne used this week’s online forum to argue for dropping the charges against Peters, who is accused of participating in a scheme to allow a purported data expert to secretly copy files from Dominion Voting Systems equipment in 2021. She faces seven felonies and three misdemeanors in a case that is scheduled to go to trial on Wednesday.

He has long championed Peters and others who have questioned the results of the 2020 election. Four days after members of the electoral college voted to give Biden a victory in December 2020, Byrne joined other Trump allies in the Oval Office to argue Trump could use the National Guard to seize voting machines. Also in the meeting were Trump-aligned attorneys Sidney Powell and Rudy Giuliani and former national security adviser Michael Flynn.

In the years since, Byrne has used his fortune and his nonprofit America Project to bankroll efforts meant to uncover problems with how elections are run, including a partisan review of the 2020 election in Arizona. Byrne and the America Project have helped fund groups like We the People Ariz. Alliance, an Arizona-based political action committee whose co-founder in March said she would “lynch” a Republican official who helps oversee elections in the state’s largest county. She later said her comment was a joke.

Courts and independent agencies have found no evidence of widespread election fraud.

Byrne led Overstock for two decades. He resigned in 2019 after it came to light that he had been romantically involved with Maria Butina, a Russian gun activist who pleaded guilty in 2018 to conspiring with a Russian official to infiltrate conservative politics in the United States. She was deported after serving a 15-month prison sentence. Byrne published a memoir this year that included a preface by Butina.

Dominion, the voting machine company, filed a $1.6 billion defamation lawsuit against Byrne in 2021. The case is ongoing. Dominion won settlements of $787.5 million with Fox News and $243 million with Newsmax and is seeking $1 billion or more from Giuliani, Powell and MyPillow CEO Mike Lindell.

Spencer S. Hsu and Rachel Weiner contributed to this report.