Pat Tillman - American Hero

[THE KOD]

Former NFL player who joined military killed in Afghanistan

WASHINGTON -- Football player Pat Tillman, who turned down a mulitmillion-dollar contract with the Arizona Cardinals to join the Army, was killed in Afghanistan, officials said Friday.

Tillman, who served with the Army Rangers, was 27.

Although the military had not officially confirmed his death, the White House put out a statement of sympathy that praised Tillman as "an inspiration both on an off the football field."

Former Cardinals head coach Dave McGinnis said he felt both overwhelming sorrow and tremendous pride in Tillman, who "represented all that was good in sports."

"Pat knew his purpose in life," McGinnis said. "He proudly walked away from a career in football to a greater calling."

Several of Tillman's friends have said the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks influenced his decision to enlist.

Lt. Col. Matt Beevers, a spokesman for the U.S. military in Kabul, confirmed that a U.S. soldier was killed Thursday evening, but would not say whether it was Tillman.

He said the soldier died after a firefight with anti-coalition militia forces about 25 miles southwest of a U.S. military base at Khost, which has been the scene of frequent attacks.

Two other U.S. soldiers on the combat patrol were injured, and an Afghan soldier fighting alongside the Americans was killed.

Arizona Sen. John McCain noted that Tillman declined to speak publicly about his decision to put his National Football League career on hold.

"He viewed his decision as no more patriotic than that of his less fortunate, less renowned countrymen who loved our country enough to volunteer to defend her in a time of peril," McCain, a Republican, said in a statement.

U.S. officials, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said a formal announcement was expected later in the day. Spokesmen at the Pentagon and U.S. Army declined comment.

Tillman played four seasons with the Cardinals before enlisting in the Army in May 2002. The safety turned down a three-year, $3.6 million deal from Arizona.

He made the decision after returning from his honeymoon with his wife, Marie.

Tillman's brother, Kevin, a former minor league baseball prospect in the Cleveland Indians' organization, also joined the Rangers and served in the Middle East. They committed to three-year stints in the Army.

Some 110 U.S. soldiers have died -- 39 of them in combat -- during Operation Enduring Freedom, which began in Afghanistan in late 2001.

Tillman's agent, Frank Bauer, has called him a deep and clear thinker who has never valued material things.

In 2001, Tillman turned down a $9 million, five-year offer sheet from the Super Bowl champion St. Louis Rams out of loyalty to the Cardinals, and by joining the Army, he passed on millions more from the team.

Tillman turned aside interview requests after joining the Army. In December, during a trip home, he made a surprise visit to his Cardinal teammates.

"For all the respect and love that all of us have for Pat Tillman and his brother and Marie, for what they did and the sacrifices they made ... believe me, if you have a chance to sit down and talk with them, that respect and that love and admiration increase tenfold," McGinnis said at the time.

It was not immediately clear when he went to Afghanistan.

The 5-foot-11, 200-pound Tillman was distinguished by his intelligence and appetite for rugged play. As an undersized linebacker at Arizona State, he was the Pac-10's defensive player of the year in 1997.

He set a franchise record with 224 tackles in 2000 and warmed up for last year's training camp by competing in a 70.2-mile triathlon in June.

Tillman carried a 3.84 grade point average through college and graduated with high honors in 3 1/2 academic years with a degree in marketing.

"You don't find guys that have that combination of being as bright and as tough as him," Phil Snow, who coached Tillman as Arizona State's defensive coordinator, said in 2002. "This guy could go live in a foxhole for a year by himself with no food."

Tillman and his brother Kevin last year won the Arthur Ashe Courage award at the 11th annual ESPY Awards.
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Seems worth devoting a thread to this guy.


KOD

 

[THE KOD]

While media coverage of the Tillman story has been very positive, a subtle "wait and see" attitude prevails in some of the pieces that have been written, as if some revelation about a big-bucks contract, or perhaps a movie deal, will surface sooner or later to compromise his decision. The "mystery" some commentators see in Tillman's actions is almost certainly the result of his refusal to grant interviews; if he would only sit for a weepy tell-all, all of their doubts could be put to rest.
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Now maybe they can put Tillman's motives to rest.

 

[THE KOD]

"He's driving on the same highway as everybody else," says Barbara Beard, the athletic director at Leland High, "but he's on the other side of the road."

 

[THE KOD]

The NFL?s Lonely Hero Print Friendly Format
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By Paul Beston
Published 12/4/2003 12:05:11 AM


Watching football on Thanksgiving weekend reminded me of younger days when the NFL was a passion of mine. In recent years it has become more of a diversionary interest, and I no longer know who is who, or which teams are the ones to beat. While the league is still blessed with some admirable players, the ones I tend to remember now, unfortunately, are those who behave notoriously off the field or insufferably on it. But sitting among family on the holiday, I happily remembered Pat Tillman, the best story the NFL has had in many years.

Pat Tillman was the starting strong safety for the Arizona Cardinals when the 9/11 attacks occurred. He played out the 2001 season and then with his brother Kevin, a former minor league baseball player, enlisted in the Army Rangers. In doing so, Tillman walked away from a three-year, $3.6 million dollar contract with the Cardinals for an $18,000 salary and plentiful opportunities to get his head shot off. That hasn't happened yet, and God willing it won't. But the pay cut kicked in right away.

Some Internet surfing revealed that the Tillman brothers are currently deployed somewhere in the Middle East with the elite 75th Ranger Regiment. On the weekend before Thanksgiving, the brothers spoke briefly with their parents, who do not know where they are or what mission they are pursuing. They do know that their sons were in Iraq in the spring during the height of the fighting, and that this summer they were briefly stateside at Fort Lewis in Tacoma, Washington.

Outside of an ESPY award earlier this year and the occasional column, Tillman's story has gotten little press, but it's not all the media's fault. For one thing, as Tillman's parents well know, there is precious little information. For another, the Tillmans have not granted a single interview since their enlistment. Apparently determined that their endeavor not be construed as self-aggrandizing or insincere, they have simply done what they said they would do -- leave behind the fantasy world of sports to serve their country.

It would be a remarkable story in any time, but in a more cynical age it is nothing short of breathtaking. Imagine a 26-year old American male, talented enough to play in the National Football League and earn millions of dollars, leaving because he felt he had more important things to do. What could be more important than riches and fame? Why sacrifice when our culture so often portrays sacrifice as the preserve of misfits and losers? For many observers, Tillman's decision had to have an explanation more rational, and less abstract, than mere nobility.

Certainly that was the attitude of Tillman's former teammate Simeon Rice, who now plays with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Rice suggested that Tillman might be joining the army because he wasn't a very good football player anyway. While Tillman was not an All-Pro, he did set a Cardinals team record with 224 tackles in 2000. Even if Rice's charge were true, it takes an especially small person to voice such a thought publicly. But then the NFL happens to be densely populated with such men, including Rice's Tampa Bay teammate, the repulsive Warren Sapp.

In his inability to understand Tillman's patriotism, Rice no doubt spoke for many of his NFL colleagues. His incomprehension was further in evidence when, prompted by an interviewer, he acknowledged that his former teammate's decision was "admirable." Did Rice belatedly realize that it was patriotism -- one of the oldest virtues -- that had motivated Tillman? Of course not:

"Maybe it was the Rambo movies?" he asked. "Maybe it's Sylvester Stallone and Rocky?"

Right. If it isn't pure self-interest, then it must be unadulterated fantasy. Such is the mentality of a good portion of professional athletes today, particularly in the NFL, a once-proud league now overrun by exhibitionists whose constant preening is often difficult to distinguish from professional wrestling.

For most normal people, though, the story is pretty simple -- somewhere in the Middle East, Pat Tillman is serving the United States because he believes it is his duty. Meanwhile, back in the NFL, a contingent of helmeted narcissists -- Rice, Sapp, Jeremy Shockey, take your pick -- grow rich. The closest any of them will come to war is in the numbing military metaphors that have long been part of the repertoire of NFL players, coaches and broadcasters.

Pat Tillman knows where the real war is, which is why he left the fake one behind. If he decides to return to football when his three-year tour of duty is up, he would have the impact of a human disinfectant on the NFL. And his fellow players would owe him their gratitude -- even Simeon Rice, assuming he can reach that high.

 

[THE KOD]

 

[THE KOD]

As a senior safety-tailback-kick returner at Leland High in San Jose, Tillman so detested leaving the field that once, after his coach pulled the starters at halftime of a first-round playoff romp, he took the field for the second-half kickoff and ran it back for a touchdown. The coach, Terry Hardtke, confiscated Tillman's helmet and shoulder pads and put them under a bench lest Tillman get the urge to score again. One month later, on his recruiting visit to Arizona State, one of three Division I-A schools willing to risk a scholarship on a 5'11", 195-pounder classified by many college coaches as a too-slow, too-small tweener, Tillman was asked by Sun Devils coach Bruce Snyder what he thought of the recruiting process. "It stinks," Tillman shot back. "Nobody tells the truth."

Taken aback, Snyder filed the comment away. He remembered it the following August when he sat Tillman down to discuss -- as he does with all freshmen -- the concept of redshirting. "I'm not redshirting," Tillman said. "I've got things to do with my life. You can do whatever you want with me, but in four years, I'm gone." Snyder thought, This kid is different.

As different as Tempe is hot in July. At Arizona State, Tillman not only avoided redshirting but also progressed from special teams madman (freshman) to situational sub (sophomore) to defensive standout (junior). He had the second-most tackles and the most interceptions, pass deflections and fumble recoveries on a team that reached the Rose Bowl and fell four points short of a probable national title. "Some games I was hard-pressed to make a tackle because Pat was everywhere," says Scott Von der Ahe, who played alongside Tillman in '96 and is now a linebacker for the Indianapolis Colts.

Along the way Tillman grew his dirty-blond hair from a Marine buzz to a heavy-metal mane (since trimmed) and made the Sun Devils coaches his personal debate partners. For instance, last season defensive coordinator Phil Snow put in a dime package that took Tillman out of the game in certain passing situations. Whenever Snow called the scheme, Tillman would stand next to the coach and say, "Touchdown this play."

This season Tillman has become simply the best player in the country who doesn't have his own (fill in the blank: Heisman, Outland, Lombardi, Butkus) campaign, living proof that there is room at the highest level of the game for a guy without much size or blazing speed but with a brain and cojones. "He epitomizes what college football is all about," says Southern Cal offensive coordinator Hue Jackson, who was an assistant at Arizona State during Tillman's first two seasons.

The soul of a defense that lost six starters from last year, Tillman led the Sun Devils to the cusp of the top 10 before last Friday's 28-16 upset loss to Arizona knocked them out of a share of the Pac-10 title and a near-certain berth in the Fiesta Bowl. Last week he was named the league's defensive player of the year, a remarkable achievement for a guy who bulked up to all of 202 pounds and made many of his plays against the run. He won the honor over established studs such as Jason Chorak of Washington and Joe Salave'a of Arizona, and it seemed a sweet crowning touch to a terrific career. But don't tell him about it.

On Nov. 24, the day he won the Pac-10 honor, Tillman hunched over a bowl of spaghetti and sausage at a Tempe bistro. He is a walking, talking contradiction: a little guy who plays linebacker, a dedicated student who looks like a slacker, a serious 21-year-old who converses fluently in surfspeak. The public nature of awards gives him the creeps. "Dude, I'm proud of the things I've done, my schoolwork -- because I'm not smart; I just worked hard -- and this award," said Tillman, a marketing major who will graduate in 3 1/2 years with a GPA of 3.82. "But it doesn't do me any good to be proud. It's better to just force myself to be naive about things, because otherwise I'll start being happy with myself, and then I'll stand still, and then I'm old news." He shrugged. Introspection indeed.

He always has been. When he was five, he climbed onto the porch roof of his family's two-story house during a windstorm, wrapped himself around a slender tree trunk and swayed in the wind for fun, until his mother, Mary, coaxed him back onto the roof. He then developed a propensity for jumping from high places (bridges, cliffs) into water. He went rock climbing and invented a bizarre hobby: wandering through the woods by leaping from treetop to treetop, like Tarzan without a vine. "He has always liked testing himself," says his father, Pat Sr., a lawyer and former college wrestler who used to grapple in the living room with Pat Jr. and his younger brothers, Kevin (a scholarship baseball player at Arizona State) and Richard (a junior quarterback at Leland High).

Pat Jr. grew into a ferocious high school football player who could intimidate with size, speed and attitude. Unfortunately he often did the same thing off the field. "People in our town were basically afraid of my brother," says Kevin. "He just has this tough-man mentality about him."

"If there was trouble, you looked for Pat first," says Beard. "Usually it wasn't serious." One time it was. In the fall of Pat's senior year, he went to the aid of a friend in a fight outside a pizza parlor and, in Pat's words, "beat the s---" out of his friend's assailant, who was in his early 20s. Several weeks after the incident Pat was arrested and charged as a juvenile (he was 17) with felony assault. Before the case was resolved, he accepted a scholarship to Arizona State (Brigham Young and San Jose State were the other schools that offered) but desperately feared it would be revoked. Pat quietly pleaded guilty to the charge. In the summer of '94 he served 30 days in a juvenile detention facility, and his conviction was reduced to a misdemeanor upon his release.

Tillman's incarceration ended two weeks before his first college football practice. Arizona State never learned of his trouble with the law. Tillman, however, learned much from it. "I'm proud of that chapter in my life," he says. "I'm not proud of what happened, but I'm proud that I learned more from that one bad decision than all the good decisions I've ever made. I'm proud that nobody found out, because I didn't want to come to Arizona State with people thinking that I was a hoodlum, because I'm not. It made me realize that stuff you do has repercussions. You can lose everything." He says he hasn't been in a fight since.

Not off the field, anyway. On the field he started fighting, figuratively speaking, as soon as he arrived in Tempe. "Everybody called him the Hit Man because he was this little guy running around laying licks on people," recalls Von der Ahe. "He had this arrogance about him, as if he knew he was the toughest guy on the field."

Tillman understood from the start that he was a marginal recruit -- too small to play linebacker, too slow to play running back or defensive back, the coaches figured, but too intense to pass up. He would have to establish himself every day. "That's fine. I didn't need any damn promises," he says. "I figured I could prove myself when I got here."

He flourished after making the unusual switch from safety to linebacker in the spring of his freshman year. He learned to study tape and study people. "He's the best player I've ever coached at reading body language," says Lyle Setencich, linebackers coach at Arizona State from 1995 to '96 and now defensive coordinator at Cal. "One game, he noticed that a tackle would look inside every time his team ran a draw, and sure enough, Pat read it and hit the fullback right in the mouth." His speed is respectable (4.55 for the 40) but not blinding, yet he is as fast in a game as he is against the stopwatch, a rare quality.

Tillman wears out coaches with his intellect and preparation, and has just enough offbeat humor to keep them on their toes. When Snow told him last year to cut his hair, Tillman said, "Coach, the women are all over me. I keep it messy so I look dirty, and they leave me alone." In fact, Tillman has dated UC Santa Barbara senior Marie Ugenti for four years, and as for pursuit by other women, he says, "My face and my personality are my chaperones."

Predictably, Tillman isn't ready to retire from football. Just as he was told that Division I-A was beyond him, he is being told that the NFL is out of his reach. When asked how many times he can bench-press the standard 225 pounds, Tillman explodes in laughter. "How many times?" he says. "Like, dude, I max 225, and then I rack it." You can't measure or weigh or time guys like Tillman and get the story.

"I know he can play in this league," says Von der Ahe. "Strong safety, linebacker in a nickel package, somewhere. He's tenacious, he's smart, he's got great instincts."

"I've told NFL guys, 'If you don't want him on your team, don't take him, because he won't let you cut him,'" adds Snyder.

What will Tillman do if he doesn't make the NFL? "Beats me," he says, grinning like a man with no fear and, just in case, good grades. Grab a tree and swing in the breeze.

 

[THE KOD]

TYPICAL ARMY RANGER

Age: 24.

Size: 5-foot-9, 174 pounds.

Fitness: Physical testing consists of three events: push-ups, sit-ups and two-mile run. To score a perfect 300 points, a Ranger must do 80 sit-ups in two minutes, 80 push-ups in two minutes and complete the run in less than 13 minutes.

Uses: Billed as the premier light infantry fighting force in the world, Rangers specialize in quick-strike missions requiring stealth -- such as parachuting into Afghanistan in the early days of the war on terrorism.

Source:Maj. Gary Kolb, spokesman for Army Special Operations Command

 

[THE KOD]

 

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[THE KOD]

Democracy
Democracy is considered the most advanced and enlightened form of government.

However, real democracy depends on an educated electorate.
So said Thomas Jefferson, one of United States' first presidents.
In order to vote, one must be informed about the issues.
Democracy also depends on a certain level of true civilization, that is, people who are civil and can respect the rights and needs of other people.

 

[THE KOD]

 

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[THE KOD]

Pat Tillman was one cool cat