How Devon Dampier’s bond with his brother helped turn the Utah quarterback into a leader

Devon Dampier raced home from school, pedaling his bike through the neighborhood to catch his brother’s bus at its usual stop on the corner.

The yellow bus’ brakes groaned as it pulled up, its doors opening to another hot, dry Arizona afternoon. On the corner stood 10-year-old Devon and his father, Curtis, and mother, Kesha.

And off came Dominic Dampier, Devon’s little brother.

“Hey,” the bus driver said to Curtis, “did you guys talk to Dominic?”

The day before, the driver asked Curtis why his youngest son was “being so loud on the bus.” At first, Curtis didn’t think much of the driver’s question. But this time, he had to speak up.

“I don’t mean to be that parent,” he said to the bus driver, “but ... he doesn’t talk, man.”

Dominic had been diagnosed with autism and, for the first 7 years of his life, hadn’t spoken anything but a few words. Not to his parents. Not to his older brother. Not to his classmates, as far as anyone knew.

So Devon asked his little brother if he’d been making noise on the bus.

“Yeah, man,” Dominic said, “I was talking with my friends.”

“We were blown away,” Curtis remembered.

But the story behind Dominic’s first sentence had been unfolding in the background for years.

Devon had been quietly building a bridge, pulling his younger brother into his world. He’d sit Dominic in his lap and read to him. They’d play video games or board games or wrestle with their WWE figures. Anything that gave them an excuse to stay connected.

“Dev and Dom did everything together,” their father said. “A lot of compliments there. He really helped us.”

Today, Dominic is a senior in high school — a wide receiver at North Canyon High in Arizona. Devon, now 670 miles away in Salt Lake City, is Utah’s starting quarterback, still carrying the lessons that never needed words.

“It taught him patience,” said Kesha. “It taught him that everyone’s not on the same level — but they’re all trying. Everyone has a different personality.”

Football will, and has, taught Devon plenty about pressure and victory, loss and time. But long before he called his first snap, the junior had already learned the most important part of being a quarterback — how to be a leader.

“I make sure I earn my respect through my work ethic,” Devon said. “I think doing it visually is a lot more important than hearing it.”

‘Like a little teacher’

Before the coin toss of the Scottsdale Firebirds’ state semifinal matchup some years ago, Devon Dampier — one of the team’s captains — surprised his head coach with an unexpected question.

“Coach, would you mind if my brother Dominic takes my place?” he asked.

Head coach Matt Frazier turned to his quarterback, looking through the bars of Devon’s helmet and into his eyes.

“I do mind,” Frazier said. “He’s not taking your place. You’re both going out there.”

So Devon and Dominic made their way to midfield. Devon’s cleats dug into the grass, leaving imprints in the dirt. Dominic, in tennis shoes, floated over the blades.

“I think Dominic went out there thinking he had his pads on,” Frazier said, laughing.

There was never a world where Devon would leave his little brother behind.

“He just became his protector,” Kesha said.

Curtis added: “Devon understood at a young age what goes on in the background from what you see from people in public.”

But it wasn’t always easy. Devon struggled to understand why his brother didn’t talk to him. Why did he point to objects instead of using words? Why wouldn’t he ride bikes or play outside?

“He wanted this little brother so bad,” Kesha said. “But Dom was just so shy — no eye contact, and he kind of disassociated himself. For a while, it was a little hard for Devon to understand.”

So the family adapted. Devon learned sign language to communicate with Dominic. He sat in on auditory therapy sessions. When doctors told the family that Dominic would need a strict routine to function, Devon chose a different path. He brought his brother into his own world.

At practice, Devon had Dominic join the team for ladder drills, huddles, and even sprints — running alongside kids twice his size. And gradually, things began to shift. Dominic started hitting every developmental benchmark.

Even Frazier’s dog, Mojo, once a source of fear, became a friend — with Dominic sitting beside him on the bleachers, petting him calmly.

“Although he didn’t want to be there at first, Devon took him and told him it’d be OK,” Kesha said. “Eventually, he just started wanting to be with the boys. Before, he wouldn’t even look at another person.”

Devon was trying to carry his own weight, too. At 7 years old he was playing three age groups up with 10-year-olds. He was also doing private training sessions with his quarterback coach, Mike Giovando.

“It was a good lesson for all Devon’s teammates to watch how he looked out for his younger brother,” Frazier said. “Isn’t that true about football? You’ve got to have each other’s back.”

Giovando says Devon made sure “Dom was treated just like everyone else,” and says he thinks it’s shaped how the quarterback connects with everyone, not just his close teammates.

“When you learn that trait of, it’s not about me, it’s about the other people — my teammates, my family, and my friends — that shows that you’re battle-tested," Giovando said.

These small moments added up, each one part of a quiet transformation. Today, Dominic lives a typical life. Most people wouldn’t even realize he’s on the autism spectrum, those closest to him say.

“He’s come a long way,” Devon told Yahoo Sports earlier this year. “You can’t tell he has it anymore.”

But while Dominic learned from Devon, the quarterback was learning, too.

“He was definitely like a little teacher,” Kesha said. “I think that’s kind of where his leadership comes from; he hears people out, he cares, and he’s patient. He wants to know your story.”

‘Since day one’

If you ask Devon Dampier, real team bonding doesn’t occur in the locker room — it happens over heaping plates of breakfast in Salt Lake City.

“You don’t necessarily remember all the dinners or breakfasts,” Dampier said. “But you get to know each other, and you just get to feel at home when you continuously talk to people without your phone.”

It’s a lesson passed down from his family: no phones at the dinner table. Just laughter, conversations, and the kind of connection that turns a house into a home.

It’s a value the Utah quarterback now carries into his own huddle. Dampier loves taking his Ute teammates to Penny Ann’s Café, a cozy diner in South Salt Lake.

If it’s not breakfast, it’s a buffet somewhere in the city. No matter where, it’s always intentional.

“We try to be modest because he asks, ‘Where do y’all want to go?’ every week,” said senior center Jaren Kump. “When you talk to him, you’d never know that he’s kind of our dude — he’s just one of the guys.”

At New Mexico, before transferring to Utah, Dampier had the same approach. He’d round up teammates and head to Bubba’s 33, Waffle House, or Frank’s Famous Chicken & Waffles.

For Dampier, food was, and still is, just the vehicle. What he’s really chasing is trust.

“Everybody has their own schedule, but he was trying to include everybody,” said Javen Jacobs, Dampier’s former teammate at New Mexico. “It allows that trust factor to be built over time.”

Dampier’s leadership stems back to when he was once guiding Dominic through the rhythms of daily life.

Curtis and Kesha watched it unfold quietly. Whether it was Devon helping Dominic try new words or dancing with him in the end zone during youth football games, he was always making sure his little brother felt like he belonged.

“He wants everyone to feel noticed around him,” Curtis said. “He doesn’t like to leave anyone out. He knows, especially with Dom being autistic, that people want to feel like they’re a regular person.”

That awareness now shows up in everything he does — in how he lifts teammates up, cheers for their wins, and checks in when things are hard.

And even now, several states apart, Devon still FaceTimes Dominic almost every day. Their family group chat — called the “home chat” in the Dampier household — is a daily thread of updates and highlights from both brothers’ games.

As Dampier’s first season in Salt Lake City winds down, he has 109 Ute brothers now, but he’s never going to leave his first one behind.

Because, well, it’s always been that way.

“Even if he knew something was different, he loved his brother so much,” Curtis said. “Devon’s been there for him since day one.”

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