Walter Payton wasn't the biggest, fastest or strongest.Yet with a stiff arm, scissors kick and flying leap into the end zone, the Bears running back ran not only into the record books, but into the hearts of Chicagoans and football fans everywhere.
"When I put on my uniform and I get on that field, I know only one thing," Payton once said, "and that's to perform at the best of my physical ability, and that's giving everything I have on each play."
Payton died at noon Monday, the victim of a rare liver disease and bile duct cancer. His final hours were spent at his South Barrington house with his wife, Connie, 14-year-old daughter, Brittney, and 18-year-old son, Jarrett, at his side.
He was 45.
"Walter was supposed be a Chicago Bear. He was, and he was the greatest one of all," said Mike Ditka, who coached Payton on the Bears' lone Super Bowl team in 1985-86. "He had a great heart, great desire. I don't think he ever worried about the things that he did. He just worried about the things he was going to do."
Payton, who received some 200,000 get-well greetings, was as respected for his work off the field as on. He coached high school basketball, read to children in a literacy program and made significant charitable contributions throughout and after his NFL career.
"His attitude for life - you wanted to be around him," said former Bears' linebacker Mike Singletary. "He was the kind of individual who, if you were down, he would not let you be down. It was his duty to bring humor and life in any situation."
His training regimen - running up a steep hill in north Arlington Heights - and his on-the-field performances, including a single-game NFL-record 275 yards during a 1977 win over the Minnesota Vikings, solidified his place as a football legend. He rushed for an NFL record 16,726 yards before playing his last game in January 1988.
Sweetness, a nickname bestowed on him because of his winning personality during his days at little-known Jackson State University in Mississippi, also headed the Walter Payton Foundation, which funds educational programs and helps abused and neglected children.
His business ventures included several suburban restaurants and bars and an Indy-car racing team. He recently announced his stake in an Arena football franchise scheduled to begin play at Rosemont's Allstate Arena in 2001. It was a stepping stone to his goal of someday owning an NFL team.
Last February, Payton stunned the world with news he suffered from a rare liver disease, primary sclerosing cholangitis, which strikes three in every 100,000 people.
During the past week, his business partners and spokespeople vehemently denied rumors his condition had worsened, reflecting his reputation as a public figure who nonetheless cherished his privacy.
Monday afternoon, hours after Payton died, his doctors confirmed what many physicians who specialize in liver treatment suspected: Besides PSC, a mysterious liver disease that causes the body's immune system to mistakenly attack its own tissues, Payton had cancer of the bile duct.
Dr. Greg Gores, who was treating Payton at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., said the cancer killed Payton. Gores would not say when Payton learned he had cancer.
But judging by Payton's appearance, liver specialists speculated he knew of his cancer at the time he announced he would need a transplant.
"My guess is he knew he wasn't going to get a transplant," said Dr. David Van Thiel, director of the liver transplant program at Loyola University Medical Center.
Even if a suitable liver had been found this fall, Payton was no longer a viable transplant candidate, sources close to the Bears said. Those close to Payton knew about a month-and-a-half ago, but all kept the situation quiet as to avoid a public "death watch."
When Payton was unable to attend a tribute to him recently during the ARETE Courage in Sports dinner in Chicago, his daughter wept while accepting the award on his behalf.
Rumors arose that he was gravely ill. His son, Jarrett, a freshman running back at the University of Miami, flew home last week, missing a game, to be with his father and the rest of the family in Payton's final hours.
"Through these difficult times, we've learned about love and life," said Jarrett, who spoke at a Halas Hall news conference Monday night. "Our greatest thanks goes out to the people of Chicago. You adopted my dad and made him yours. He loved you all."
The daughter of George "Papa Bear" Halas fought tears to describe Payton in three words: excellence, class and fun. Virginia McCaskey likened her love of Payton to that of Brian Piccolo, a Bear who died of cancer in 1970.
"After Brian Piccolo died, my husband Ed and I promised ourselves we wouldn't be so personally involved with any of the players," said McCaskey. "And we were able to follow that resolve until Walter Payton came into our lives."
Ironically, Payton and Papa Bear's deaths will be linked forever. The anniversary of Halas' death is Oct. 31; Payton's will be Nov. 1, All Saints Day.
Born Walter Jerry Payton on July 25, 1954, in Columbia, Miss., Payton never grew beyond 5-foot-11 and 210 pounds, but he played like he was 6-4, 230 when he took on a linebacker or a defensive back. He began playing football only in the 11th grade at Columbia High, and then graduated in just 31/2 years from Jackson State with a degree in special education.
Then, it was on to the Bears as their No. 1 pick and the fourth player overall in 1975. He churned out most of the 16,726 yards during his 13-year career behind a weak offensive line that didn't produce a Pro Bowl lineman until the 1985 championship season, Payton's 11th in the league.
Payton "was the Bears when the Bears were nothing, and he carried that team on his back to six or eight or 10 wins a year before they became real good in the mid-'80s," said Fox football analyst John Madden.
"More than that, though, Walter was Chicago and he was perfect for Chicago. He was put your head down and run over somebody and get your uniform dirty and never back down from anyone. He was just like Chicago, underappreciated and not as famous as others, but really the best."
"His work ethic was as good as anyone who ever played,'' said Hall of Famer Jim Brown, whose career rushing record Payton broke in 1984. "Walter's work speaks for itself. Words are not necessary.''
A good portion of Payton's work came on a hill in northern Arlington Heights that has since been turned into a golf course.
"I ran that hill with him when I was much younger than he was,'' said onetime teammate Willie McClendon. "And he beat me to a pulp. There was nothing left of me. And then he just laughed at me.''
Those laughs also came when Payton wasn't training or playing.
"The prankster that he was always made me make sure I knew where he was at all times," said Singletary.
"Coming to the Bears as a rookie, Leslie Frazier and I were roommates and ... right before training camp would start, Walter would pop firecrackers and scare the daylights out of the rookies. We didn't like it then, but we appreciated it for the next round of rookies who came in."
Bears President and CEO Ted Phillips spoke fondly of Payton from the lobby of Halas Hall in front of a mural with Payton and the Super Bowl team in the case behind him. He recalled seeing Payton on the sidelines during good weather and bad. Payton would carry a coach's headphone cords or just visit with players and other team personnel even during a rainstorm.
During his rookie year, Payton missed the only game of his career - at a coach's insistence. It bothered him to the day he died.
"I didn't miss a game, and I hate it when people say that,'' Payton once said. "That was a coach's decision. I could have played.''
Which is exactly how Payton wanted to be remembered.
"I never skipped a down. I never took a rest,'' Payton said, when asked what his legacy should be. "I never missed a game. I came to play and that's what's important to me.
"All the glory, all the yards and all the touchdowns don't mean a thing. I came to play on every down and I never took a rest. That's how I want to be remembered.''
Services will be private. A public memorial is also being planned, said Ginny Quirk, an executive of Walter Payton Inc.
Daily Herald staff writers Timothy S. Rooney, Bob LeGere, Madeleine Doubek and The Associated Press contributed to this report.
