I had planned to tell you about my moments of anxiety in Cuba today, but all I can think of is Walter, so if you don't mind we'll finish Cuba next week.
Walter Payton passed away last Monday around noon; the cause of death was officially listed as cancer although, as you know, he had life-threatening liver problems and had been on the list for a transplant. The cause is really irrelevant; the fact that such a vital man, such a loved and loving man, and such a young man at 45 should die is hard to understand or accept.
As you probably know, rumors had been floating around for a few weeks that Walter was close to death. We received a couple of calls at WGN stating that he had died at least a week before the fact. We didn't broadcast them because they obviously could not be verified, and we didn't want to believe them.
Over the past week you've heard all the stats about how great a football player Walter was; perhaps the best ever - that's what Mike Ditka said, and I think he would be in a position to know. But it's somewhat of a mystery as to why he was that good. He wasn't that big - about 5'10" and a little over 200 pounds. And there were certainly faster guys, but nobody was ever better. I think it was because he wanted it so much.
Walter Payton never had to get in shape when he came to camp; he was never out of shape. He worked at it every day, all the time. That's one of the main reasons he played 13 years without serious injury. He only missed one game in those 13 years and he could have played in that one, but the coaches said no.
The only time I ever saw him close to angry was when talking about not being allowed to play in that game. That was in his rookie year. He never again allowed himself to be in a position of not being able to play. He was often bruised and battered and beat up - all professional football players are - but he never again missed a game. Sick, hurt, tired, whatever - he always played with all his heart. He set the NFL single-game rushing record of 275 yards in 1977 in a game against Minnesota; he had the flu when he did it.
Virginia McCaskey said Monday night that when Brian Piccolo died, she and her husband Ed made a vow never again to get that close to a player. That was before Walter Payton came into their lives. She fought back tears as she told reporters that three words came to mind when she thought of Walter: excellence, class and fun. Virginia is a small lady with a big heart; she also has a core of solid steel. Somebody remarked that she's had to stand at a podium and talk about loved ones too many times; her dad, her brother and now Walter. She's one of the strongest people I've ever met, and one of the nicest.
I guess the fact that Walter was the only person in the world that was not a family member or an owner that was on the Chicago Bears board of directors says something about how they loved and respected him. I think Ed and Virginia truly feel like they've lost a son.
One of the measures of a man is the friends he keeps. Walter was close to a lot of people, but especially Mike Singletary and Matt Suhey and they were with him to the end. The week before he died Walter was still playing jokes on Mike and Matt. They prayed with him the morning he died and prayed with the family after the fact. They have been as rock solid for Walter as he was for them; you and I would do well to have such friends.
Fans remember Walter on the football field; he was magnificent. Friends remember all the other wonderful things he did that never made the news but made the man. I'll always remember him doing wheelies on a Kawasaki motorcycle, that high-pitched cackle of his as he roared down the street. And the quiet pride he had that Jarrett and the rest of the family were doing so well.
It's terrible to lose a friend like Walter, but we'll always be thankful that he let us share so much of his life.
