Walter Payton – Lessons in Greatness
Walter Payton – Lessons in Greatness. The story, by Paul Attner, first appeared on the 15th of November 1999 – in the issue of The Sporting News, under the headline “Lessons in Greatness”. It was published the week after Chicago icon and Pro Football Hall of Famer Walter Payton, 45, died of bile duct cancer, a side effect of a rare liver disease. Because of his cancer, he was not eligible for a liver transplant. After his diagnosis and until his death, Payton was a vocal advocate for organ transplants, a legacy beyond his phenomenal Bears career.
Payton was not the most excellent player running back in history, but he was close. No player in NFL history at any position had forced more from his body and driven himself as relentlessly as Payton. This was Payton’s first lesson: Never settle for less than you can be.
Long before Rice became famous for his offseason workouts, Payton went on to set the standard for cruel and inhuman exercise punishment. He made a hill with a grade steep near his Chicago home enough to make legs cry out, “no mas,” a plea Payton routinely ignored.
“I am always fearful I am not in the best shape I can be,” Payton once said. “My goal is to be able to play all 60 minutes of every game. Since you might have the ball for only 30 minutes, I figure I have got enough left to go all out every play.”
At 5-10, 202 pounds, Payton had known he was smaller than running backs should be. He knew he did not have the proper college pedigree. He knew that flashy backs received greater publicity and wider fame. So he thought if he stopped, it was a sign of weakness. And to him, that weakness was a huge sin.
It was his obsession to squeeze every ounce possible from his body that separated him from so many other elite players.
His next lesson: You cannot succeed if you back away from obstacles, no matter how formidable.
Payton would gladly turn upfield and look for another chance to deliver a mightier blow. And when the game used to end, he made sure he bounced up.
He had his ways to fight back – he loved taking on linebackers, and he used to wipe out cornerbacks and delayed defensive ends. He never fretted about being overmatched. He aimed to fulfill his assignment, knowing he was demonstrating mastery of his talent. And reminding people how rock-solid tough he was.
He had carried the ball more than any running back in NFL history – 3,838 times. His many attempts consisted of – head-knockers, pad-on-pad, between the tackles, in a straight line, etc. The resulting reaction would be absorbed by his body. But Payton afforded to miss only one game in 13 years because he refused to run away from his challenges.
With his failing health, he nursed a broken toe by cutting back on weekly practices. He began playing on Sunday and gained 125 yards. He knew he was The Bears, and the team had absolutely no hope of being competitive without him. So he faced every game and got up every time to play again for his team.
Payton played with the class and had fun. There was a sense of majesty in how he conducted himself, and joy in his demeanor. Payton suffered many disappointments in his career, yet he carried himself with dignity, pride, and happiness that made his fans proud to root for their team, even in the worst of times.
Payton was classy in all sense. He was a star, and he enjoyed it, but he never flaunted his status within the structure of the team. Payton played nine seasons before the Bears finally started winning consistently. He was finally rewarded with a Super Bowl triumph courtesy of the 1985 Bears powerhouse. He had more than 2,000 combined rushing and receiving yards and had scored 11 touchdowns for his team.
TSN senior writer and National Football League Insider Dan Pompei reflects on the life of Walter Payton.
At the Pro Bowls, Walter was the brightest among the brightest stars. The man always used to spread a lot of joy. At the private memorial service for Walter, Mike Ditka said that he had never been around someone so accomplished and famous who had handled celebrity so well.
Walter had big, strong hands and forearms, which were unusually big for his body. He used to find great pleasure in shaking hands and squeezing until the other person whimpered.
But last week, he was in no need of the handshake to achieve the desired effect.