A decade after his death, teammates recall Walter Payton
On the 10-year anniversary of his death, teammates recall man Payton was on and off field
Ten years after the 1985 Bears had won the Super Bowl, the team held a reunion at Navy Pier. Just about every player from the championship team attended the event.
At one point during the evening, former defensive lineman Dan Hampton looked across the room and saw Walter Payton, who by then had been retired from the NFL for eight years. Hampton remembers thinking to himself that Payton was in such great shape, it looked as though he still could play.
(AP)
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The life of Walter Payton
Improbably, just four years later, Payton was gone, a victim of liver cancer that claimed his life on Nov. 1, 1999.
''Of all the players at that reunion, he was the last one I would have thought wouldn't make it to the 20-year reunion,'' Hampton said. ''It's a reminder of the fragile nature of life. Time goes fast. It slips through your hands.''
Although it might feel like yesterday that we mourned Payton's passing, today marks the 10th anniversary of his death. This day undoubtedly will give rise to memories that have lain dormant for many years. What will you remember? His six-yard run that broke Jim Brown's career rushing record? His 275-yard rushing game that broke O.J. Simpson's record? His 107th rushing touchdown, which also set a league record at the time?
Those feats and countless others earned Payton his spot in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. But you know what they say about records: Eventually, they're all broken. You can't discover the true nature of a person through a stat sheet. You can, however, get to know him better through the recollections of his teammates, who doubled as his friends.
Former guard Tom Thayer remembers taking a walk with Payton along Waikiki Beach during one of Payton's nine trips to the Pro Bowl. People began to gather and stare. A crowd formed just to watch Payton walk.
''He didn't run away,'' Thayer said. ''He didn't avoid it; he enjoyed it. He made those scenarios comfortable for people. He wasn't Superman in height or size or width or weight. If he was wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt, he looked normal. He didn't have an entourage. Yet he was bigger than life.''
Payton's practical jokes have gained legendary status since his death. You probably have heard about him taking over the phone duties at old Halas Hall during lunchtime, answering calls in an exaggerated falsetto voice, pretending he was the female receptionist. He did that a lot.
But that wasn't Payton's best joke. Not by a long shot. In former wide receiver Glen Kozlowski's mind, the doughnut trick would be hard to top.
Kozlowski was responsible for bringing the doughnuts during his rookie season. One day, Payton dipped a doughnut meant for offensive tackle Keith Van Horne in hot wax. The doughnut got waylaid, though, and ended up in the hands of a coach, who promptly ate it.
''It got stuck in his mouth,'' Kozlowski said, laughing all these years later at the memory. ''It was the funniest thing I ever saw. And that was typical Walter. He was just always messing around and having fun.''
Former defensive tackle Steve McMichael remembered his rookie season with Payton for a different reason. When McMichael arrived in town after being cut by the New England Patriots, he was subjected to hazing by his new teammates. But Payton never joined in.
''Most of the vets don't welcome rookies,'' McMichael said. ''And most of my teammates figured I'd be gone soon since I had already been cut by one team. But Walter was not like this. He opened up his arms to me. He was above what most self-serving pro football players are about.
''There's that perception out there about players, and sometimes it's right. But Walter wasn't like that. To have a guy like that in the league, now that's a role model. Do you know what it's like having a big brother in your life that you followed around and worshipped? That was Walter.''
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Payton's grueling offseason workouts, which included those sprints up Payton Hill in Arlington Heights, helped form that chiseled body and those tireless legs. At 5-10 and 200 pounds, he wasn't a big running back, but he was as strong as they came. In 13 seasons, he missed only one game. He was adept at stiff-arming defenders and could bowl them over if that didn't work. He could bench-press 390 pounds and once rushed 30 times for 148 yards despite playing with several cracked ribs. His teammates were wowed by his work ethic and toughness.
''He had so many injuries during his career that he kept to himself,'' Hampton said. ''His attitude was: 'Don't worry about me. I'll be fine on Sunday at 12:02. I'll be out there.' He tried to seem impervious to the things the rest of us were dealing with. ... It was like a running gag -- him acting like he was never hurt when he was hurt as bad as anybody. Even when he got both knees operated on [before the 1984 season], no one knew. Today's cream-puff [players] would be out for a year after surgery on both knees.''
Players today could learn about commitment from Payton.
''Did you ever see him tired in a game?'' McMichael said. ''No, because he worked his ass off in the offseason and in practice to get himself ready to play. I tell kids: 'Don't wait until the season to get ready to play. Don't come to camp to get in shape.'''
Payton's career rushing mark -- 16,726 yards -- stood for 18 years until Emmitt Smith established a new record. But no back in history had Payton's all-around game. He wasn't just a great runner; he was a great blocker, receiver and, on occasion, passer. But his teammates point to his generosity of spirit as his lasting gift.
''He really was one of those rare guys who treated everybody the same,'' Kozlowski said. ''He made you feel important, no matter whom you were. He was very friendly and willing to talk and joke with people. He had an accessibility with the public that you don't often see in players. And as a teammate, he made you feel like a million bucks. He made everybody feel like a big part of the team, and that made everybody feel so good.''
Payton's final remarks during his Hall of Fame induction speech in 1993 were prescient: ''I am going to close by saying life is short. It is oh-so-sweet. There are a lot of people that we meet as we walk through these hallowed halls, but the things that mean the most are the friendships that you make and take along with you.''
Payton is no longer with us, but our memories endure. The Bears will celebrate his life and career during halftime of the game today at Soldier Field, and fans are encouraged to wear No. 34 jerseys in tribute.
He's no longer with us, but his charitable endeavors continue. The Walter & Connie Payton Foundation, which is dedicated to abused and underprivileged children, is hosting a toy drive during the game next Sunday at Soldier Field. Fans are asked to bring new toys, which will be donated to kids throughout the state during the holiday season.
He's no longer with us, but his friendships live on.
''He's one-of-a-kind,'' McMichael said. ''He was a true role model. And when I say role model, I mean how he conducted himself in the real world. Everybody knows how he was a great football player. But that's not why we're still talking about him.''