Charity work for NFL alumni displays Ditka's soft side

CHICAGO -There are a lot of different ways to look at Mike Ditka.

Hard-nosed, Hall of Fame tight end. Fiery coach of the Chicago Bears whose oversized personality rivaled that of the Punky QB, the Fridge and anyone else on those '85 Bears. Maverick - some might say goofball - who traded every last one of the New Orleans Saints' draft picks and then some to get Ricky Williams. Colorful TV analyst. Shameless pitchman, hawking everything from steaks to wine to cigars to cough syrup.

But the plight of disabled and indigent former NFL players has brought out Ditka's softer side. And unlikely as it may seem, his compassion and passion for the cause might come the closest to revealing who Mike Ditka really is.

"I thought he was this gruff, mean, abrasive, hardcore guy. A little intimidating," said Jennifer Smith, executive director of the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, a nonprofit organized founded to help former players in need.

"Not to say he's not all those things. But I would have never have thought that he would have a heart the size that he has," Smith said. "Without his participation and leadership, I don't know where we'd be right now."

Ditka didn't found Gridiron Greats - former Green Bay Packer Jerry Kramer did - but he has become its face and its very loud voice. Though only 10 months old, the organization will have given out about $225,000 in direct financial aid by the end of the year, and provided services worth another $50,000.

It's drawn the ire of the NFL and its players association, but it's spurred action, too. Earlier this month, the NFL and NFLPA announced they were updating the disability plan to allow players to get benefits more efficiently and quickly.

On Sunday, dozens of active players will donate at least part of their checks to the Gridiron Greats in an effort that could raise as much as $400,000.

"All we're trying to do is lessen the burden, maybe provide some type of relief for the family or the individual," Ditka said. "We're not the answer, I know that. But to say no when I have the ability to raise something, something's better than nothing. Even though it's not the whole answer, something is better than nothing."

Ditka has never shied away from the "Iron Mike" image. Quite the opposite, in fact. And with good reason. He hasn't coached in seven years, yet he remains one of the most recognizable names in the game. In Chicago, he has the kind of iconic status that only Michael Jordan can match. He has, in many ways, became a brand name, not to mention a very wealthy man.

But that was the public persona.

"There's a little more to Ditka the coach and Ditka the man than most people see," former Bears linebacker Ron Rivera told the New York Times in 1991.

Friends and family saw a generous man who would quietly do charitable acts. For years, he's raised money and given time to Misericordia, an organization that helps the developmentally disabled. Smith recalls riding with Ditka in a car one day and seeing him stop to give a newspaper vendor a wad of cash. Take the day off, she said Ditka told the man.