As soon as the news broke, details about NFL player Ryan Moats' encounter with a Dallas police officer buzzed through Bishop Lynch High School.

For many there, Moats is like family. And they were not at all surprised that their favorite son kept his composure as the officer berated him for a traffic violation outside a hospital where his mother-in-law lay dying.

"Ryan made me so proud," said Judith Porter, one of his former teachers at the prep school in Far East Dallas. "Because everybody I've talked to says, 'I would have lost it and punched that cop or done something stupid.'

"But Ryan just stood there and just kept saying, 'Yes, sir.' "

In a sports world dominated by news of steroids, brawling and dog fighting, the 26-year-old running back's self-control stood out that night.

"I'm not surprised that he was as composed and as put-together as he was," said Ed Leyden, president of Bishop Lynch.

"He always did well under pressure," Leyden said. "And obviously ... that was huge pressure."

Those who know Moats recognize the personality they see in video of the encounter. They say it's the same good spirit that has carried him through obstacles since he was a boy.

The youngest of several brothers raised by a single mother in Oak Cliff, Moats came to Bishop Lynch as a sophomore.

"He had some financial aid based on his need, and he and his family had to pay the rest of the tuition," said Rene Ramirez, Bishop Lynch's running backs coach then.

During his first year at the Catholic school, Moats developed a staph infection in his femur, and doctors were nearly forced to amputate his leg.

"I visited him at his house once that I remember specifically," Leyden said. "He was just always a very gracious and appreciative kid."

Doctors said he might not play football again, but he didn't believe them. He returned to the field by the third game of his junior year, beginning a comeback that led him to the school's record for rushing, which he still holds.

The illness was only one of the obstacles Moats overcame. He lived far from campus and had an old car that seemed always broken down. So if he couldn't catch a ride, he'd walk for miles and take buses, Porter said. But he always showed up.

When it came time to find a college, Moats received several offers and initially committed to Southern Methodist University. But SMU had no scholarships for Moats, and his SAT scores threatened to hold him back.

"He was walking around the school the entire semester with little 3-by-5 cards," Porter said. "He was memorizing vocabulary words and their meanings."

He got the score he needed and got a scholarship to Louisiana Tech, where he quickly became a star. But his elusiveness to would-be tacklers proved a remarkable contrast to his smiling accessibility to the little guys on campus.

"I was just a walk-on, and he would still come and say hi to me every single day," said James Lott, a middle linebacker for Tech during those years. "He was just a very nice guy."

It was at Tech where Moats met his wife, Tamishia, who was on the dance team.

Tamishia was crowned Miss Louisiana Tech in 2001 and Miss Black Louisiana USA in 2004.

During Moats' junior year, he entered the NFL draft. The Philadelphia Eagles picked him in the third round in 2005. Just before his first preseason game, he asked Tamishia to marry him. "I proposed to her and scored two touchdowns," Moats said. "It was a happy, happy day for me."

The couple married in January 2006.

Tamishia earned a master's degree in public administration in Philadelphia and has begun working on a doctorate. Moats joined the Houston Texans' practice squad in October 2008.

Through all his successes, Moats has maintained a reputation for kindness, as a 2005 column in Tech's student newspaper noted.

"But while his impact on the field was felt throughout the Western Athletic Conference and country this season," the column said, "his impact as a person will resonate throughout the hearts and memories of people who knew him for a lifetime."

The column mentioned a local teenager with a chromosomal abnormality whom Moats had befriended and mentored.

Contacted last week, the boy's mother confirmed the story.

"Ryan is like a member of our family," said the woman, who asked not to be named. "I mean very, very close."

Moats is a frequent visitor to Bishop Lynch, where students still wear No. 3 MOATS shirts. A few years ago, the school held "Ryan Moats Day" on a Friday when his Tech team was in town to play SMU.

Moats came to a Lynch football game that night and stayed late signing autographs.

"The moment he steps on campus, the e-mails start," Porter said. " 'Ryan Moats is here,' the kids will say. 'Did you see him in the hallway? Did you see him in the cafeteria? Did you see him in the library?' "

Moats and his wife have a home in Frisco. Her mother, Jonetta Collinsworth, came recently from Louisiana to visit. She had been struggling with breast cancer for nearly three years.

Collinsworth, 45, wasn't feeling well. They took her to the hospital, where doctors found the cancer had spread throughout her body. Family members rushed to her bedside. Collinsworth's father flew in from California. Tamishia's great-aunt came in from Louisiana.

For nearly three weeks, the Moatses spent all day every day at Baylor Regional Medical Center at Plano, going home only to sleep, all the while receiving varying degrees of bad news.

On March 17, the night of their confrontation with the officer, they had gone home to get some rest. About an hour and a half later, near midnight, they received word that they needed to hurry back to the hospital if they wanted to see her before she died.

Officer Robert Powell, 25, spotted them rolling through a red light near the hospital. Moats parked the SUV outside the emergency room, about 20 seconds after Powell pulled behind them with lights and sirens. Moats then withstood a 13-minute lecture. Police Chief David Kunkle later credited him for showing "extraordinary patience, restraint."

Last week, as news of the incident spread across the country, the Moatses were on their way home from Louisiana, where they had buried Collinsworth and helped Tamishia's sister, who is still in college, get situated at school.

Even then, when a sports radio station called him for an interview, Moats measured his words. He was asked whether Powell should keep his job.

"In my mind, I would love to think that one would learn from the situation, and if he ran into it again, do it differently," Moats told KRLD-FM (105.3). "But that's not always the case.

"Some people are what they are, and you can't change that," Moats said. "But some people do change. So I can't really say."

Staff writer Tanya Eiserer contributed to this report.