On Life

Periodically I feel driven to write about something based on something I've read. Normally this happens when I'm either: A) royally pissed about something, or B) shocked and numbed by something. Today's treatise happens to be a unique combination of both. I don't promise that this will be deep and thought provoking anymore than I can promise that ever. Sometimes I hit the mark; often times I miss. But I do feel like right now is a good time to share with you some of my personal philosophy, particularly on life in general.

Today I finally got around to reading the excerpt that Sports Illustrated had from Jeff Pearlman's new book on Walter Payton. The book has taken a great deal of heat lately for taking an iconic figure, best known for being an amazing running back and an even better person, and running him through the mud via bringing out all the skeletons in his closet. And it does this a full twelve years after the man passed away tragically, well before his time. I've heard the vehement crack back against Pearlman from the likes of Mike Ditka, Mike Singletary and Brian Urlacher. I've heard the halfhearted defenses from some in the Chicago sports media, promising us that the author was only doing his job as a journalist. And I've talked to a few people about it, seeking out their views on the issue.

I'll be the first to say that it pained me to read through the excerpt. I'll also say up front that I will undoubtedly own the book someday after I run into it for $3.00 at the bargain book store or Amazon.com, mostly because that's where all sports books go, and I have a book buying addiction. But the excerpt mostly got me thinking of the reason why the reaction was so vehemently against Pearlman. Honestly, you are hard pressed to find anyone who will stand up and say "yup, that was Walter, he was suicidal, depressed, hiked up on pain killers, and generally negative in life after the NFL." But why the negative reaction? Ditka, Singletary and the likes almost seem as if they are defending a Saint or a war hero with their adamant rebukes of Pearlman's work. The answer, in fact, may sit firmly in that last thought.

Hero ... can a football superstar truly be a hero? Charles Barkley famously articulated the concept that he was not a "role-model" and that he didn't want to be. What was lost in translation for much of the media who belittled Chuck for "dodging" his status as a defacto role model was that his argument was actually quite sound. "Stop looking to me to raise your child from an NBA game and commercials and step up and do it yourself" was really the gist of Barkley's sentiment. On the flip side, the media is right: Barkley was a role model, whether he liked it or not, because kids will always look up to those they wish to become. Hell, a good many adults will do the same thing. Both sides were right, and both were also wrong. It all depended on your point of view.

And still, what hurts the most about the new revelations about Payton, true or not, is mired in that same controversy. In this case it comes down to one question about Payton: hero or not? Walter the player was brilliant, but he also played right before the dawn of the new media age which would lionize sports stars like Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods and Peyton Manning. That Payton was an all time great is not in question if you watched the tape, but what made him more than a football icon was the way in which he carefully crafted an image that was supported by all those around him. If the book is right he was a part of a sham marriage for the last decade plus of his life ... but his wife has nary a negative word to say about him. She stood by him until the end. She did not take the opportunity to make it a big deal, to allow it to tear apart Walter's image. If what the book professes is true, many other key players around Payton had the same opportunity ... and passed on taking the man down.

What does that tell us? It's impossible to say for certain, but if I had to guess I'd say that it reveals one simple fact: Walter Payton was bigger than life, and served a greater purpose as an idea than he did as a man. And those around him understood that, and worked hard to protect that image. Mike Singletary famously had a fallout with Payton due to Walter's infidelity ... yet he came back to his side in the end to make peace, counsel his friend as he headed towards death, and now stands up to defend him. Mike Ditka still has his back over a decade after he passed. Something about Payton's legacy is worth defending it ... and these people are defending in an outspoken, forceful way.

And that leads me to the opposite of Payton's death: the sudden and extremely unexpected death of Apple icon Steve Jobs. The man who created Apple, was forced out, then came back to Apple when it was on the scrap heap and built it into a mega power in the media world. The same Jobs who stepped down as CEO barely more than a month ago. Last I checked, we don't even know what happened. The media speculates it was cancer, or something of that ilk, but for all we know it could have been a car crash. Jobs in death is much the same as in life: shrouded in intentional mystery. Jobs is the anti-Payton: there is no image to protect here beyond that of a brilliant business man. You could tell me anything about Jobs personal life at this point from him being a devout Catholic to him routinely flying to Taiwan to solicit prostitution, and I'd probably not be able to argue with you. We don't know him. Many may admire him. But we don't know him.

Jobs legacy will be in the tangible: Apple is now a major world player, and it wouldn't have been without his return. The IPod you use daily is a reminder of him. The IPhone that your friends are falling over themselves to use is a reminder. If you are super geeky, the computer you have is a reminder of him. But very few people will draw on Steve Jobs, the person, for inspiration. Many people, conversely, draw on Walter Payton the person for inspiration. Steve Jobs was a person. Walter Payton became something more: a concept, an idea ... a hero.

It's all summed up in the title of Payton's book: Never Die Easy. It's a simple concept that is illustrated beautifully in the way he ran the football: don't take the easy way out, and if you are going to fail then do so giving it your all. It's a creed you can live by. And when we take an assault to the idea that we have raised up ... to the hero we idolize ... then we react very negatively. That's what your seeing around the nation as Pearlman's book gets its ten seconds of fame before it will undoubtedly fade into nothing, and then eventually into my bookshelves off of the discount rack. We need Payton now more than ever because he is not a man, or the memory of a man, but the memory of something we all can hold on to for strength. And we are not alright with someone trying to wake us up to a simple and extremely beautiful fact: we are all human. It's what gives us life, that imperfection that allows us to fail and allows us to experience joy when we succeed. Walter Payton may or may not have done the things outlined in the book. I don't know, and honestly I don't even care. Because at the end of the day I know that there are two Walter Paytons living inside my mind: the man and the idea. The man may have been flawed, but it doesn't matter because I didn't know him. The idea is the athlete, the greatest of all time, the hero. I know him deeply ... and he will live on inside of me forever.