Dick Butkus
didn’t last as long in the NFL as other Pro Football Hall of Gamers—only nine
seasons—but the outsized presence described by Arthur Kretchmer carried over
onto the field. A half-century after he retired, he is still considered by many
of the game’s observers as the greatest middle linebacker of all time.
Or, as Kretchmer summed up the consensus about Butkus
from fans, teammates and opposing players of the time: “He's the meanest,
angriest, toughest, dirtiest son of a bitch in football. An animal, a savage,
subhuman. But as good at his game as Ty Cobb was at his, or Don Budge at his,
or Joe Louis at his.
Early last week, I heard a radio commercial featuring
the gridiron giant. His voice reassured me in several different ways: that he
was, after all, still around at all; that, unlike so many other retired
players, he did not appear to be suffering the effects of multiple concussions;
and even that a link to the game that had so fascinated me starting in my
tweens continued as a living link to the past. Some things, you could still
count on.
That sense of stability didn’t last long. By Friday,
the news had come out that Butkus had died at his home in Malibu, Calif. The
irony was that someone so ferocious on the field had passed away peacefully in
his sleep.
WBEZ sports contributor Cheryl Raye-Stout, talking about him on Texas Public Radio, put matters succinctly
on what he meant in Butkus meant in his prime: “He became notorious for being
someone that would do anything, anything at all, to make a tackle, to force the
ball out of the opposing player's arms, to go after the quarterback. He did
things that nobody had done before. He would bite. He would claw. He would
scratch. He did anything.”
"You know, his brother Ronnie played for a while
with the old Chicago Cardinals. He had to stop because of a knee injury."
Then she turns to me and says, "I hope Dick gets well. It's his
life."
Told that he had taken his place in the pantheon of
great middle linebackers, along with Sam Huff and Ray Nitschke, Butkus said,
"Hell, I'm going to make more money this year than those guys ever thought
about."
“This year”—and to the end of his life. International
Merchandising Corporation (IMC), the company that took sports promotion to a
new level by helping Arnold Palmer gain a string of lucrative endorsements and
exhibitions, did the same, albeit on a smaller scale, for Butkus.
In the five decades after he hobbled off the field for
the last time, Butkus appeared in dozens of television shows and movies, not to
mention scores of commercials—notably Miller Lite Beer commercials.
This quote from Butkus, on the Website of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, confirmed his mother’s observation about his
single-minded devotion to the sport:
“There’s only one thing I’ve ever wanted to do: Play
pro football. Everyone seems to be made for something, and I’ve always felt
that playing football was the thing I was supposed to do. I love the game.”
After the string of confirmations on the damage caused
by concussions, I can’t share his feelings. But I can’t help but admire his
desire to excel, and I’m glad he was able, unlike so many other ex-players, his
time away from the game.
