Hall of Famer Mackey leaves great legacy

Column

For a long time now, John Mackey was heading down a long, dark road, bound for a destination where no one should have to go. There was no off-ramp and no turning back.

A lot of people probably thought it was a shame, but that was about it. Many others just looked away, but at least some paid attention. Mackey didn't have to make his journey alone.

He played tight end for the Baltimore Colts from 1963-71 before wrapping up his Hall of Fame career with one season in San Diego. Later, he became president of the players union.

Wise people liked to say he was a "prototype" for his position because he could catch as well as block. His 75-yard touchdown reception from Johnny Unitas helped the Colts beat Dallas in Super Bowl V.

But the prototype spent the last several years in a wheelchair, unable to speak beyond a grunt or tend to even his most basic needs.

Dementia, likely brought on by multiple blows to the head over his career, robbed him piece by piece – until finally, on Thursday morning, there was nothing left to rob. He died at the age of 69.

The real impact of Mackey's life and death won't be fully felt for years. His was the face behind the movement to get retired National Football League players the help they need to simply function. The game had left so many of them behind, but Mackey's plight was a call to action.

He was living on a $2,500 a month pension and about to lose his home when his medical condition became public knowledge. Now, retired NFL players with dementia can qualify for up to $88,000 a year under the 88 Plan.

That was Mackey's number.

Former Bucs president Gay Culverhouse has devoted the last several years to the cause of retired players in need. She has worked closely with Mackey's widow, Sylvia. Culverhouse knows that the impact of Mackey's struggle eclipsed anything he did on the field during his Hall of Fame career.

"I work with players who are homeless now and so demented we can't get them to understand the services that are available to them," she said. "If it wasn't for John Mackey, there would be a lot more homeless players though.

"He's got the biggest name recognition, and people began to pay attention after Sylvia went to the NFL and told the league they were broke and in danger of losing their home. Since then, we've been going around the country meeting with small groups of women about this issue to let them know they aren't alone."

Culverhouse has just written a book called "Throwaway Players" about the problems associated with concussions. As you can imagine, there are many tales of former Buccaneer players battling all sorts of post-career problems. We have detailed many of those struggles as well on the news pages of The Tampa Tribune.

Culverhouse is working with the University of South Florida to launch the Lee Roy Selmon Center, where retired players can get help and counseling on all aspects of their post-football life.

She has done an astonishing amount of good. Unfortunately, there's a lot more educating to do. One of the apparent hang-ups to end the NFL lockout, for instance, is the current players' reported refusal to contribute to a fund to help those who are retired. That position is as short-sighted and selfish as it gets.

"The players today will be the ones in need of help tomorrow," Culverhouse said. "They just don't want to think of their own mortality. They can't process that one day they'll need new knees, or they won't be able to work their checkbook. They're hard-wired to think they're invincible.

"They don't want to think about the day they'll need the $88,000 from John Mackey's plan. If I was their mom, I'd smack 'em upside the head."

John Mackey probably never knew the real impact he had in the last part of his life. The cheering crowds who saw a gifted athlete become a Sunday hero had long since given way to hurting and desperate men who in Mackey's struggle saw themselves.

There are strict new guidelines governing how teams deal with concussions. Doctors and trainers are taught what to look for. The NFL has adopted new playing rules to reduce blows to the head. Mackey's signature might as well be on all those initiatives.

We saw Mackey's face and heard his story, and then couldn't help but focus on that painful question: How many more of Sunday's heroes just like him are out there, afraid and abandoned?

Once that question was asked, nothing could be the same again.

There can be no better legacy.