They told him he was too short. Too raw. Too unconventional. NFL scouts kept it cute with their feedback, but the phone stayed dry. No calls. No invites. And no deals. Just silence. While the headlines raved about Shedeur and Travis, one of Colorado’s most disruptive dogs on defense watched the whole draft weekend go by like he was invisible. And yet… the man’s already back in Deion Sanders‘ Boulder facility.

We’re talking about the “Block Bully” himself—Chidozie Nwankwo. The 5-foot-11 firecracker at defensive tackle who transferred in from Houston and made himself a household name in black and gold last season. A stat sheet wrecker. 31 total tackles, 4.5 tackles for loss, 2.5 sacks, and a forced fumble in 2024. All-Big 12 Honorable Mention. Hula Bowl invite. Consistently eating up double teams like it was a lunch buffet. Week after week, he made himself a problem.

Still didn’t get that NFL call. But instead of sulking, Chidozie doubled back to Boulder on May 23 and wasted no time. IG story went up showing him doing medical ball pushups, kettlebell squats, dripping in sweat, working with CU coaches like he’s still got a fall camp to prepare for. You could feel the pain in those reps—man’s on a mission. He’s not looking for sympathy. He’s training like someone who’s gonna force the NFL to circle back and explain why they passed.

Truth be told, his name being absent from any minicamp invite lists might be the most shocking thing from this year’s draft cycle. It wasn’t a character issue. It wasn’t production either. The only thing they keep pointing at is the height. 5-foot-11. But when Warren Sapp himself says, “You find a better nose tackle in America, let me see him,” that should override a tape measure.

This wasn’t some plug-and-play journeyman. This was the engine of Colorado’s front seven. Deion Sanders built a defense around that motor, and it ran hot every damn week. Chidozie didn’t just transfer in—he transformed the Buffs’ interior presence. And now he’s back, not even two weeks removed from the snub, chasing the same dream with ten times more hunger.

Deion Sanders gives flowers to Chidozie Nwankwo and his daughter

See, this journey isn’t just about football. It’s deeper than sacks and TFLs. Back in January 2024, Chidozie made what he called the “hardest decision of his life”—leaving Houston to move to Boulder. Why? For his daughter. The same daughter he gave a sweet shout-out to on May 17 with a post that read, “🥹🥹🥹🥹 Happy Birthday to my Taurus Baby 💙💙💙.”

You could feel every bit of love in that post. That’s a real father, not just a baller. A 21-year-old man who saw the bigger picture. As he once put it: “It was tough. The overall decision was really tough for me. I’m young. I’m just 21.” But he knew what he had to do: “I’m making sure my life is secure and my daughter’s life is secure for when she gets older.”

That kind of maturity hits different. And Deion Sanders? He noticed. Last year, Coach Prime created $2,121 savings accounts for every Buffs player with a child. One of them was Chidozie. During a heart-to-heart convo, Deion asked the DT what round he thought he’d go in. Without hesitation, Nwankwo said, “First round.”

Prime smiled. Not at the answer—but at the belief. “I’m pushing you, sir.” Deion told Chidozie. “I’m back here pushing you every time a scout comes here… going to say you better go get it. Don’t let that size fool you. That is a killer.” But now? Radio silence. Frame over tape. Size over heart. And that’s the type of logic that gets GMs fired.

Look—this isn’t the pity party season. Chidozie’s not looking for handouts. He’s still grinding like he’s trying to earn a spot at Boulder, not return as a team leader. The NFL might’ve missed on him, but someone’s going to wake up when camp injuries start piling up or preseason tape tells the truth that Pro Day measurables never could. All it takes is one team to value a dog over a prototype.

And that’s what Chidozie brings—pure dawg. The kind that can’t be taught. The kind that makes 300-pound linemen look like cardboard cutouts when he fires off the snap. Coach Prime knows talent. And he’s been loud about it. He put his whole platform behind his top dogs. Travis got 2nd overall type of love. Shedeur got love, eventually. But Chidozie? He’s got that extra layer. That family-first chip. That underdog edge. The type of story that turns into a locker room legend.

He’s not just fighting for himself—he’s fighting for his daughter, for every doubter who said he was too short, and for the respect he’s already earned but hasn’t yet been handed.