Only in death did Wilt Chamberlain finally reach the lofty heights he had always sought.And that may also be the way Walter Payton rests in peace.
Of course, Walter had too much class and dignity to complain about being snubbed, but since I have so little of either, I'll do it for him.
What made Payton so great was what puts all the stratosphere types into rare air. For a lifetime he carried a fear of failure and a chip on his shoulder.
But unlike Michael Jordan, Payton's place in history was never secure, and the need to prove himself didn't end with the conclusion of his career.
Walter never got his just due, and you could tell that it bothered him - and justifiably so. During much of his career and certainly after he was done playing, Payton was rarely considered by the national media to be the greatest running back of all time or the best football player ever.
ESPN named him a starter, along with Jim Brown, on the NFL All-Century Team, but that was the exception to the unwritten rule.
Even today, every time I hear a John Madden or a Dan Dierdorf choking himself on a dose of Emmitt Smith this or Barry Sanders that, it bothers me.
Because I know Walter Payton is the greatest who ever lived.
And suddenly Monday, when news of Walter's death spread around the world, many jumped on the Payton bandwagon. Much like what happened when Wilt Chamberlain passed away, the new consensus was that Payton was the greatest ever to carry a football.
It just would have been nice to tell him that while he was alive.
Payton's place
So why was it, then, that Walter's place in history suffered?
One reason, naturally, is that he played on mostly losing teams and he didn't get a lot of national attention his first 10 years in the game.
And Walter didn't have the benefit of a great offensive line until late in his career or he might have cracked 2,000 yards a couple of times. Payton's first Pro Bowl lineman, Jim Covert, made it in Payton's 11th season, after Walter already had run for more than 13,000 yards.
But the biggest detriment also is the most unfair. Walter was considered an enigma by some in the media because he refused to open up to every guy with a mike or a notepad. He didn't seek the limelight or endorsements, and he often ducked interviews, preferring to let his work ethic and accomplishments speak for him instead.
Like another Chicago legend, Ryne Sandberg, Payton chose to keep his private life private, and his innermost thoughts inner, unless someone took the time to earn his trust.
But since most in the media don't spend that kind of energy on anyone who can't promise flaming hair dye or a wacky sound-bite, Payton was considered odd and aloof. This, of course, was completely off-base, but OK with Payton. If it kept a segment of the media out of his life, he didn't care what they thought.
But Payton's place in history was lacking because he wouldn't toot his own horn and pat himself on the back. It shouldn't have to be that way, but we all know what a difference it makes.
Chamberlain actually predicted that he'd be larger in death than he was in life, and he was right. In his 1991 novel, he wrote, "It's always amazing to me how your worth goes up after you die. You are only at your best when you're laid to rest.''
Apparently, the same will be true for Walter Payton.
The Payton legacy
Nothing would make Walter happier than to know that adults and children thought of him as a role model, and there's no reason for us to stop thinking of him in that regard now.
The term is thrown around a lot and sometimes inexplicably, but in Walter's case it was genuine.
As an athlete, he was perfect. He worked harder than anyone, played harder than anyone, never quit, did everything he could to defeat his opponent, but never taunted them, embarrassed them or called them names. Take no quarter, give no quarter.
He never whined, never complained, never missed a down and didn't try to coach or generally manage the team.
Off the field, well, you've heard all the stories about his kindness to sick children and strangers and where his own children fit into his life. He lived life like every day was his last, and even in his dying days he refused to complain or ask, "Why me?''
If everyone is here for a reason, perhaps Walter's was to keep the rest of us from losing perspective, and in death he reminds us that in living it's better to sink beneath the shock, than molder piecemeal on the rock.
Thanks, Walter.
E-mail bag
Many of you had suggestions for a tribute to Walter, some of which were naming the MVP trophy after him; naming a new Bears stadium after him; or naming a street after him. (I think they ought to rename Chicago after him.)
But perhaps the best tribute, also suggested by several readers, would be to dedicate the Nov. 14 home game against the Vikes to Walter and ask the Secretary of State to encourage each fan to sign up to be an organ donor.
I'll go you one better. Since Walter was so much bigger than just a Chicago Bear, have the entire NFL dedicate the rest of this season to Walter Payton's memory and ask fans across the country to sign up for organ donation.
That would save a lot of lives, and that would be the greatest tribute of all.
Nice touch
A makeshift memorial went up Tuesday morning at the corner of Nichols and Kennicott in Arlington Heights, site of Nickol Knoll, better known as "Payton's Hill.''
Angie Emmerich writes, "I can remember when Mr. Payton would come to do his workouts, usually with a friend. Some of us would go down for an autograph, a picture or just to say hello. The words that come to mind are, 'gracious gentleman.' He always made time and always spoke with the children about what they were up to, what their plans were, encouraging them to do their best. Now, on the (site) is a sad reminder of days gone by.''
And finally ...
Former Payton teammate Jim McMahon reacting to Walter Payton's death: "Gosh, everybody thought I'd be the one gone by now, but I surprised everyone and stuck around.''
