Bad News From Afghanistan
"You can do whatever you want with me, but in four years I'm gone. I've got things to do with my life." -- Pat Tillman, when informed by Arizona State coach Bruce Snyder at the beginning of Tillman's freshman year that Snyder planned to redshirt him, thereby extending his eligibility by a season.
Terrell Owens misses the deadline to file for free agency, points the finger everywhere but where it belongs (himself), has the audacity to compare himself to Rosa Parks, and eventually forces a trade to the Philadelphia Eagles.
Ty Law feels "insulted" by a multi-million dollar contract offer from the New England Patriots, and seeks sympathy by reminding us that, "he has to eat, too."
Eli Manning, the expected first pick in the NFL draft, has threatened to refuse to sign with the San Diego Chargers and sit out the year if need be, while the Philadelphia 76ers' Allen Iverson simply refuses to practice.
As sports fans, we are constantly reminded that today's athletes have completely lost touch with anything resembling humility or reality. It makes rooting for many of them an exercise that often times feels cheap and labored. Deep down, we all long to cheer, admire, and most importantly, believe in, someone more deserving of our deference. Someone we can relate to. Someone seemingly untainted by the pampered lifestyle that comes hand in hand with athletic brilliance. Someone who embodies all the ideals that we hold sacred, ideals we tell ourselves would not quickly be forsaken should all OUR dreams come true. Someone who would make Owens, Law, Manning, and Iverson stick out as the despicable examples of selfishness and greed they are, rather than just authors of another back-page blurb to which we've grown desensitized.
The truth is, there are athletes who fit that description. Most people just never get to know them. Sadly, arrogance and attitude will always sell more newspapers and magazines than modesty and morality. Compounding the issue, the few individuals that do stand out as extraordinary in their humanity, by their very nature, do not long for the spotlight. In an unfortunate Catch 22, their noteworthy acts go largely unnoticed. Perhaps that best explains why so few knew the story of former Arizona Cardinal's safety Pat Tillman before Friday. As news broke that Tillman, serving as an Army Ranger, was killed in action during a skirmish with Taliban and al-Qaida fighters in Afghanistan, I was devastated in a way that I can't adequately explain. While no more tragic than the 700-plus other lives that have been lost in the Middle East, Tillman's death put a face to the horrors abroad that I could identify with. As I tried to convey to my girlfriend just how special Tillman was, just how awe-inspiring a story his life was, is, and will be, I became unsettled at just how little she knew of him. I wanted her to know -- wanted everyone to know -- what I knew: When Pat Tillman lost his life in battle, the world lost a man worthy of all the respect and reverence we so often misplace, an athlete who didn't think words like "courage" and "hero" were intended for those that play on a sprained ankle or catch a pass over the middle. Maybe this will help...
Tillman arrived at Arizona State in 1994 on the school's very last football scholarship. An undersized project possessing only average athleticism, he vowed to coaches and teammates he would soon be a starting linebacker. Few believed him. Four years later, he left ASU as the Pac-10 Conference Defensive Player of the Year and a two-time Academic All-American, having graduated with a 3.84 GPA and a degree in marketing, earned in just three-and-a-half years. The Cardinals drafted him with the 226th out of 241 picks in the 1998 draft -- an afterthought, really. He didn't complain. He didn't feel sorry for himself. He didn't swear revenge on those that passed on him, as so many do. He just showed up at camp -- after running a marathon and a half-Ironman triathlon for the heck of it during the offseason -- and won the starting strong safety job as a rookie. Kind of makes you want to smack Eli Manning, doesn't it?
Quickly developing into one of the smartest and hardest hitting safeties in the league, Tillman had many suitors when his initial contract expired after the 1999 season. In a move that got exactly ZERO publicity, the 24-year-old free agent turned down a $9 million, five-year offer from the Super Bowl champion St. Louis Rams so he could remain loyal to the perennial losing Cardinals for one-third the money. Luckily, Tillman doesn't "insult" quite as easy as Law.
While those accomplishments are surely notable, they seem trivial when compared to the act of heroism and patriotism that would follow. In early 2002, Tillman, shaken and angered by the September 11th attacks, turned down the $3.6 million contract he had signed with Arizona to walk away from the NFL and take on a new challenge -- joining his younger brother Kevin in an uncertain quest to become Army Rangers. He was the first NFL regular to leave the game for military service since World War II.
At the time, I was not nearly as surprised as you might expect to learn a millionaire athlete was giving up a life of comfort and celebrity for $18,000 a year and the chance to fight for his country when it needed him most. You see, in the days and weeks that followed September 11th, as I too struggled to make sense of it all, I had stumbled upon an interview with Tillman on ESPN. Throughout the segment, Tillman repeatedly pointed out the insignificance and meaningless of his athletic pursuits. He spoke openly of his love for America and the freedom it represents, and of his family's proud military history spent defending that freedom. Tillman admonished today's athlete for fooling himself into thinking his accomplishments have value, are of great consequence, when in reality, as he put it, "I haven't done anything." I knew right then that Pat Tillman was the Anti-Owens, an athlete possessing the one trait that while exceeding rare, grows ever more vital as athletes increasingly serve double duty as role models: perspective.
When his decision was made, Tillman refused to give any interviews to explain his reasoning. There was no Sports Illustrated cover, no web site, no Tiger Woods "I'm going through four days of Army training to honor America" press conference -- just a man wishing to quietly slip away to do what he felt was right. The most I was able to learn about his decision was gleaned from an article I read, quoting Tillman as telling a family friend that he needed to "give something back" for the comfortable life he's been afforded.
Whatever his rationale, Tillman clearly was serious about his pursuit. He made the choice so quickly after 9/11 because the age-limit to become a Ranger, an elite Army unit, was 28, and another year would cost him the opportunity. Before he left, however, Tillman had some unfinished business to attend to: he married his high-school sweet heart Marie. They would have celebrated their second anniversary this May.
According to Army officials, when Tillman entered basic training in July 2003 -- the same time many of his former contemporaries were staging salary-driven holdouts and avoiding two-a-days -- he "wanted no special treatment, wanted no special attention, but wanted to be considered just one of the soldiers doing his duty for his country." Tillman recognized that being a professional football player didn't mean a whole lot when the guy next to you was just as willing, if not more so, to die for the cause you believed in.
As one might expect, Tillman advanced quickly, completing his individual training in October. He graduated from parachute school in November, and completed the Ranger Indoctrination Program in December. While the NFL was preparing for its biggest stage, the postseason, Tillman was quietly assigned to the second battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment in Fort Lewis, Washington.
In March 2003, the 75th was deployed to Iraq. From there, they moved to Afghanistan, where Tillman's battalion was involved in "Operation Mountain Storm," part of the U.S. campaign against Taliban and al-Qaida groups along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.
As is required with the Army elite, all subsequent deployments were shrouded in secrecy. Nothing was heard of Tillman again. Until Friday.
At some point Saturday, Kellen Winslow Jr., courtesy of the genetic gifts bestowed upon him and little else, will be drafted somewhere among the first 10 picks of the NFL draft. As Winslow hugs his family, shakes the hand of the Commissioner, and dons the cap of his new employer, ESPN will surely run an obligatory montage of Winslow's college highlights. I can only wish ESPN would instead air the now-famous locker room interview Winslow gave in October, when he irately referred to the game as a "war," spoke of "taking out the other guy before he takes you out," and declared himself -- despite the obvious fact that he had lived his entire life under the shelter of affluence and privilege that comes with having a Hall of Famer for a father -- "a f***ing soldier." Maybe then, in the shadow of the sobering events that occurred only one-day prior, Kellen Winslow Jr. can gain the perspective he so clearly lacks.
If Terrell Owens goes on to lead the Eagles to that elusive Super Bowl, if Ty Law gets the deal he craves and wins a third ring, if Eli Manning forces a trade to the Giants or Raiders or Browns and someday makes us all forget about Archie and Peyton, or if Kellen Winslow Jr. goes on to become a star, applaud them if you must -- for that is what we as fans need to do to feel a part of the action -- but please, save your adulation.
Save it --just in case -- you should be fortunate enough to stumble upon the next Pat Tillman while he is still an inspirational figure, and not just a tragic one.
In the meantime, stop and say a prayer -- for Tillman's wife, for his parents, and while you're at it, pray that Pat's brother Kevin, as well as all our troops serving overseas, gets home safe.
Terrell Owens misses the deadline to file for free agency, points the finger everywhere but where it belongs (himself), has the audacity to compare himself to Rosa Parks, and eventually forces a trade to the Philadelphia Eagles.
Ty Law feels "insulted" by a multi-million dollar contract offer from the New England Patriots, and seeks sympathy by reminding us that, "he has to eat, too."
Eli Manning, the expected first pick in the NFL draft, has threatened to refuse to sign with the San Diego Chargers and sit out the year if need be, while the Philadelphia 76ers' Allen Iverson simply refuses to practice.
As sports fans, we are constantly reminded that today's athletes have completely lost touch with anything resembling humility or reality. It makes rooting for many of them an exercise that often times feels cheap and labored. Deep down, we all long to cheer, admire, and most importantly, believe in, someone more deserving of our deference. Someone we can relate to. Someone seemingly untainted by the pampered lifestyle that comes hand in hand with athletic brilliance. Someone who embodies all the ideals that we hold sacred, ideals we tell ourselves would not quickly be forsaken should all OUR dreams come true. Someone who would make Owens, Law, Manning, and Iverson stick out as the despicable examples of selfishness and greed they are, rather than just authors of another back-page blurb to which we've grown desensitized.
The truth is, there are athletes who fit that description. Most people just never get to know them. Sadly, arrogance and attitude will always sell more newspapers and magazines than modesty and morality. Compounding the issue, the few individuals that do stand out as extraordinary in their humanity, by their very nature, do not long for the spotlight. In an unfortunate Catch 22, their noteworthy acts go largely unnoticed. Perhaps that best explains why so few knew the story of former Arizona Cardinal's safety Pat Tillman before Friday. As news broke that Tillman, serving as an Army Ranger, was killed in action during a skirmish with Taliban and al-Qaida fighters in Afghanistan, I was devastated in a way that I can't adequately explain. While no more tragic than the 700-plus other lives that have been lost in the Middle East, Tillman's death put a face to the horrors abroad that I could identify with. As I tried to convey to my girlfriend just how special Tillman was, just how awe-inspiring a story his life was, is, and will be, I became unsettled at just how little she knew of him. I wanted her to know -- wanted everyone to know -- what I knew: When Pat Tillman lost his life in battle, the world lost a man worthy of all the respect and reverence we so often misplace, an athlete who didn't think words like "courage" and "hero" were intended for those that play on a sprained ankle or catch a pass over the middle. Maybe this will help...
Tillman arrived at Arizona State in 1994 on the school's very last football scholarship. An undersized project possessing only average athleticism, he vowed to coaches and teammates he would soon be a starting linebacker. Few believed him. Four years later, he left ASU as the Pac-10 Conference Defensive Player of the Year and a two-time Academic All-American, having graduated with a 3.84 GPA and a degree in marketing, earned in just three-and-a-half years. The Cardinals drafted him with the 226th out of 241 picks in the 1998 draft -- an afterthought, really. He didn't complain. He didn't feel sorry for himself. He didn't swear revenge on those that passed on him, as so many do. He just showed up at camp -- after running a marathon and a half-Ironman triathlon for the heck of it during the offseason -- and won the starting strong safety job as a rookie. Kind of makes you want to smack Eli Manning, doesn't it?
Quickly developing into one of the smartest and hardest hitting safeties in the league, Tillman had many suitors when his initial contract expired after the 1999 season. In a move that got exactly ZERO publicity, the 24-year-old free agent turned down a $9 million, five-year offer from the Super Bowl champion St. Louis Rams so he could remain loyal to the perennial losing Cardinals for one-third the money. Luckily, Tillman doesn't "insult" quite as easy as Law.
While those accomplishments are surely notable, they seem trivial when compared to the act of heroism and patriotism that would follow. In early 2002, Tillman, shaken and angered by the September 11th attacks, turned down the $3.6 million contract he had signed with Arizona to walk away from the NFL and take on a new challenge -- joining his younger brother Kevin in an uncertain quest to become Army Rangers. He was the first NFL regular to leave the game for military service since World War II.
At the time, I was not nearly as surprised as you might expect to learn a millionaire athlete was giving up a life of comfort and celebrity for $18,000 a year and the chance to fight for his country when it needed him most. You see, in the days and weeks that followed September 11th, as I too struggled to make sense of it all, I had stumbled upon an interview with Tillman on ESPN. Throughout the segment, Tillman repeatedly pointed out the insignificance and meaningless of his athletic pursuits. He spoke openly of his love for America and the freedom it represents, and of his family's proud military history spent defending that freedom. Tillman admonished today's athlete for fooling himself into thinking his accomplishments have value, are of great consequence, when in reality, as he put it, "I haven't done anything." I knew right then that Pat Tillman was the Anti-Owens, an athlete possessing the one trait that while exceeding rare, grows ever more vital as athletes increasingly serve double duty as role models: perspective.
When his decision was made, Tillman refused to give any interviews to explain his reasoning. There was no Sports Illustrated cover, no web site, no Tiger Woods "I'm going through four days of Army training to honor America" press conference -- just a man wishing to quietly slip away to do what he felt was right. The most I was able to learn about his decision was gleaned from an article I read, quoting Tillman as telling a family friend that he needed to "give something back" for the comfortable life he's been afforded.
Whatever his rationale, Tillman clearly was serious about his pursuit. He made the choice so quickly after 9/11 because the age-limit to become a Ranger, an elite Army unit, was 28, and another year would cost him the opportunity. Before he left, however, Tillman had some unfinished business to attend to: he married his high-school sweet heart Marie. They would have celebrated their second anniversary this May.
According to Army officials, when Tillman entered basic training in July 2003 -- the same time many of his former contemporaries were staging salary-driven holdouts and avoiding two-a-days -- he "wanted no special treatment, wanted no special attention, but wanted to be considered just one of the soldiers doing his duty for his country." Tillman recognized that being a professional football player didn't mean a whole lot when the guy next to you was just as willing, if not more so, to die for the cause you believed in.
As one might expect, Tillman advanced quickly, completing his individual training in October. He graduated from parachute school in November, and completed the Ranger Indoctrination Program in December. While the NFL was preparing for its biggest stage, the postseason, Tillman was quietly assigned to the second battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment in Fort Lewis, Washington.
In March 2003, the 75th was deployed to Iraq. From there, they moved to Afghanistan, where Tillman's battalion was involved in "Operation Mountain Storm," part of the U.S. campaign against Taliban and al-Qaida groups along the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.
As is required with the Army elite, all subsequent deployments were shrouded in secrecy. Nothing was heard of Tillman again. Until Friday.
At some point Saturday, Kellen Winslow Jr., courtesy of the genetic gifts bestowed upon him and little else, will be drafted somewhere among the first 10 picks of the NFL draft. As Winslow hugs his family, shakes the hand of the Commissioner, and dons the cap of his new employer, ESPN will surely run an obligatory montage of Winslow's college highlights. I can only wish ESPN would instead air the now-famous locker room interview Winslow gave in October, when he irately referred to the game as a "war," spoke of "taking out the other guy before he takes you out," and declared himself -- despite the obvious fact that he had lived his entire life under the shelter of affluence and privilege that comes with having a Hall of Famer for a father -- "a f***ing soldier." Maybe then, in the shadow of the sobering events that occurred only one-day prior, Kellen Winslow Jr. can gain the perspective he so clearly lacks.
If Terrell Owens goes on to lead the Eagles to that elusive Super Bowl, if Ty Law gets the deal he craves and wins a third ring, if Eli Manning forces a trade to the Giants or Raiders or Browns and someday makes us all forget about Archie and Peyton, or if Kellen Winslow Jr. goes on to become a star, applaud them if you must -- for that is what we as fans need to do to feel a part of the action -- but please, save your adulation.
Save it --just in case -- you should be fortunate enough to stumble upon the next Pat Tillman while he is still an inspirational figure, and not just a tragic one.
In the meantime, stop and say a prayer -- for Tillman's wife, for his parents, and while you're at it, pray that Pat's brother Kevin, as well as all our troops serving overseas, gets home safe.
posted by Tony at 6:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home