To the very end, Chris Kelly wasn't the guy who swerved first

Once in a while, the ex-officio governor of Illinois Chris Kelly would stop by a Starbucks near our house, and my wife would mention to me that she saw him there.

Kelly, his wife, and their daughters used to live nearby in a Burr Ridge development called "Ambriance," a made-up name that you won't find in any dictionary.

When I received word Saturday that Kelly was dead of an apparent suicide and told my wife, her first words were: "This is no game."

Incredulity and disbelief may have been your reaction upon hearing that disgraced Gov. Rod Blagojevich's most trusted confidante and supreme stand-up guy was dead, just days after entering a guilty plea in the second of three federal corruption cases against him.

But Chris Kelly died doing what he loved.

Playing games.

The only thing that must be surprising to those who knew him was that Mr. Kelly's last game wasn't Russian roulette.

Taking a handful of pills, pushing his system to the limit and then throwing up in a suburban lumber yard parking lot; calling a young girlfriend for help and then dying at Cook County Hospital weren't very Kelly-esque.

A man who ran with the titans of local politics, made millions off a roofing business and spent millions more wagering on anything that moved, Christopher Kelly, 51, lived for games. Not the kind that most people enjoy. You never heard about him playing dominoes, Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit-the kinds of games that even prompted federal prosecutors to name their corruption investigation "Operation: Board Games."

Kelly's game was Chicken.

You know the game, but probably never really participated. In Chicken, two cars race toward each other, on a straightaway collision course. If neither of them yields, then both will die in the crash.

Invariably (and in the movies), one driver veers out of the way and is forever branded as the chicken or coward.

That is how Kelly saw business deals and politics and it's why he and Rod Blagojevich hit it off more than 15 years ago when they met at a political fundraiser.

To the very end, Christopher Kelly wasn't about to be the guy who swerved first.

He went on to become Blagojevich's most valuable player. He wasn't just in the governor's inner-circle; he drew the circle around the two of them and then decided who else got in.

When Blagojevich was inaugurated, Kelly was in charge of the day and was seated right next to Rod. When Blagojevich needed a heavyweight to handle his first big project, a casino in Rosemont, Kelly got the call.

It was an obvious choice. Blagojevich knew Kelly was already a big-time gambler himself - having wagered millions in casinos and through a mob bookmaker to whom he owed millions.

"He was a person with big appetites" said Blagojevich yesterday from New York, where he is shamelessly plugging his book. "He had some vices but he had virtues. ... yes, he had faults and he took responsibility for those things."

Blagojevich's own vices were well-intermingled with Kelly's, according to federal authorities. At the time of his death, prosecutors were putting the squeeze on Kelly to cooperate with them and testify against his former boss and close friend.

That is not something Kelly would ever do and Blagojevich knew it.

But Blagojevich wasn't the only person that Kelly could talk about. He had dealings with other big names in Springfield and at Chicago City Hall. Some of them are still there and I'm certain they are as torn up as our impeached governor over Mr. Kelly's passing.

The fact is, Kelly and the government were playing Chicken. They were driving toward each other at 120 miles per hour and getting closer by the day.

For Kelly, who stood by Blagojevich to the bitter end, cooperating and testifying would have been the equivalent of swerving out of the way ... something he never had any intention of doing.

Instead, as he was behind the wheel of his black Cadillac Escalade last weekend, Kelly ended the game by driving straight into the hereafter.

"All his trials are now over," Blagojevich said in an interview, his voice cracking.

As for the former governor, the trial has yet to begin.

• Chuck Goudie, whose column appears each Monday, is the chief investigative reporter at ABC 7 News in Chicago. The views in this column are his own and not those of WLS-TV. He can be reached by e-mail at chuckgoudie@gmail.com and followed at twitter.com/ChuckGoudie