The Mark of a Man
I watched him struggle to get up. He rolled out of the leg press sled to his knees, fought a bit to gain his balance, then worked his way back to his near vertical stance. This was a once mighty man; a 6 foot, 240 pound, All-American linebacker. Even in his current state, he had just finished several reps of 435 lbs.
Life has done a number on the 75 year old in front of me. Nowadays he’s lucky to stand upright enough to hit 5′ 8″. Still, here he is in the gym early every morning lifting free weights, hitting the treadmill, and spending hours here every day with the mantra to just keep moving.
I know enough about this man to marvel at his survival and his stamina. His life is the product of initial good fortune, bad timing and personal disaster. He was a high school All-American and had an exemplary collegiate football career that resulted in a brief stint as a professional. He might have lasted longer in the profession had fate not cruelly intervened.
The story is vague and the years have not helped. It was 1973. He was out with a friend on a Saturday night and was apparently insulted and threatened with a knife by a young man in a car. An alcohol-fueled argument ensued, whereupon our linebacker friend claimed self-defense but proceeded to beat the other man to death. He was charged and convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 30 years in prison. He spent 6-1/2 years in a state penitentiary before winning parole.
That night was a bad combination of embedded personal traits being in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong circumstances against the wrong person. Alcohol only fueled the release of aggression. It’s what a psychologist termed as two often overlooked traits of a murderer – the combination of situation and opportunity. But how did it happen a well-liked man could become a murderer?
He had personality traits encouraged by football, a violent sport that particularly in his day eulogized hard hitting and aggressive play. OJ Simpson called him the hardest hitter he ever played against. Psychologically, he fits a personality type who sees the world in black-and-white, is typically optimistic and who believes in his ability to effectively influence his world. His type is not outwardly aggressive, but will vigorously defend himself. He also doesn’t care about approval from others, but he can be irritable when things don’t live up to his expectations. This is a description that applies to our man and what happened that night; he was defending himself and overreacted.
In addition, this personality type usually has leadership abilities, is associated with taking initiative and risks, and necessarily has the ability to withstand stress and strain without emotional damage. Unofficially termed ‘The Hardy individual,’ there’s enough in this profile to uncomfortably remind me of me. That realization was not a good one.
I don’t think I have the right to ask our man what became of him after he was released from prison. If I had to guess, he found work in a union shop somewhere local. He’s still a union supporter and his family has a long record of union membership. But, how do you recover from a widely held image you believe does not reflect who you are? Our man is soft-spoken now but still carries a confidence and a pride only a strong-willed person can sustain for so many years. He has many stories of his football days, and we talk about how different the game, the coaching, the theories and the practices are today from when we played. I love to listen to him talk about his experiences. I see it revives him a bit to remember.
I admire him for his tenacity, for his quiet but uncompromising demeanor in his sunset years, for his ability to survive. He displays an empathy and humanity with no other reason than self-respect to hang onto. He follows politics and I think has a liberal leaning, as most self-respecting union men probably do. Mostly we talk about how things are different now, and lament that in many ways it’s not for the better. I enjoy his company because he’s a considerate man with convictions.
I also remember seeing our man standing on the sidelines watching our high school football practices. As I mentioned, his reputation as a hard-nosed, intimidating player was near legendary. Most of us were wary of him just for that reason. But today it’s different. I respect his thoughtfulness and appreciate his continued passion. He is aware of his age and his limitations, but he only acquiesces to it if he must; he does not concede.
Our man is mostly an observer of life now. He watches others and sometimes wonders what they’re thinking, where in blazes they think they’re going. He knows the wisdom of a man who has made many mistakes and suffered for them. He knows, too, most of these people will never understand. But in him I see that good has won out even if, for a time, anger got the better of him.
