A Tribute To Mike

This Sunday, during the halftime of the Bucs 20-10 victory over the Seahawks, the Buccaneer organization paid tribute to not only one of the greatest Buccaneers of all time, but one of the greatest football players of all time. Mike Alstott.

For me, Mike is the player that got me into football. He seemed to exude from himself what the game was all about. Heart, attitude, teamwork and dedication. 

His was the first jersey I bought. The first player I cheered for by name. The only player I have ever shed a tear for.

Throughout the history of this game, it tends to be the great men that make the best legends. Alstott gave back to his community more than almost any player. He worked hard to make a connection with the fans, opting to stay until every autograph was signed, every hand shaken, every word of praise humbly accepted with a nod and thanks. Throughout a period in the NFL where high priority and profile gave many of our best players the privilege to tarnish their image with drugs, alcohol and a host of other vices, Mike built a family and continued to help those that needed it most; a child with leukemia, a single mother in poverty. 

His career was legendary. In college at Purdue he became the first Boilermaker named MVP in three consecutive seasons, scoring 12 touchdowns as a sophomore, 14 as a junior and 11 as a senior, and still holds the Purdue rushing touchdown record with 39. As a professional, 5,088 yards rushing, accounting for 71 touchdowns. 6 Pro Bowl appearances. He is the Bucs all time scoring leader. He was an anchor for the Bucs in the hardest of times, making the playoffs several times in the late 90's, once making the NFC conference game only to lose by a bad officiating call. He pulled the team through and was instrumental to their rise as Super Bowl Champions in 2002. 

In the end, though, the heart was willing but the vessel was damaged. In 2003 he suffered a neck injury that cost him most of that season. There was a talk of his being medically unable to play the game any longer. Doubt lingered through his resulting neck surgery and into 2004 training camp, where Mike began working out and hitting the pads. He was medically cleared to play and resumed that year, albeit harnessing a lighter load due to Jon Gruden's personnel decisions.

He continued to play. A true example of Alstott's glory in action, an instance that I was fortunate enough to attend, occurred in the 2006 playoffs when the Bucs faced the Redskins at Raymond James. It was a hard fought game from beginning to end. After a long drive engineered by Chris Simms, Parris Warren caught a pass deep in the endzone to place the score within a point at 35-34 with only a few seconds on the clock. The Bucs lined up to kick the game evening extra point. The Redskins blocked it. Yellow flags rained down. The 'Skins were offsides. The penalty: Half the distance to the goal, retry the kick. That put us on the 1 and 1/2 yard line.

Gruden calls the special teams unit off of the field. He sends on the offense. The whole crowd was stunned, and then began to roar. This was for all the beans. A 2 point conversion attempt. It was simple: get the 2 and ride off in glory, get stuffed and wither knowing you could be in OT if you had just kicked the PAT.

The Bucs come out in a heavy formation. 2 tight ends, O-line jammed together. Number 40 in the backfield, on hand on the turf, helmet lowered and then slowly raised in a sign of readiness. The crowd is screaming for Mike. We all know what is coming. The Redskins defense knows what is coming. They huddle together in the endzone, waiting for the snap.

The center snaps the ball into Simms hands. Simms turns to his right, holding the ball low for Mike who is quickly approaching top speed. In an instant he grabs the ball and pulls it in tight, lowering his shoulders as he approaches the pile of offensive and defensive linemen fighting for position. 

When he first makes contact his momentum slows, almost stopping. He begins to churn forward, all his strength focused on moving 3 more feet for the goal line. He is stopped short. He begins to fall to ground. In a second burst of power, he begins to push the line again, vying for purchase. The goal line gets closer. He pushes again, gaining more ground. He begins to fall once more. He looks down and sees the goal line not 6 inches away. He throws his body forward one last time, sacrificing himself to break the line. He does. He falls to the ground finally, ball over the goal line, the win hanging on his second and third efforts to make the play.

If you watch film of the play, you can see it all there, every hit and push. The Bucs went on to be knocked out of the playoffs that year, but would never have had the opportunity to live to play another day if not for Alstott. 

His last play was a goal line effort in a 2007 preseason game. Lurching across the goal line yet again, he was hit hard and fell to the ground. Fox Sports, who had their fly-over camera in place, caught the look on Alstott's face as he lie in the ground, eyes wandering. He couldn't move. He just laid there, eyes searching for some reason. A moment later he rose to his feet and walked to the sideline. He would never touch the field again in uniform. He spent the entire 2007 season on the Injured Reserve list. All throughout the season he was on the side lines for every game, cheering on his teammates despite having suffered a season ending neck injury, his career most likely over.

Mike Alstott called a press conference on January 24th, 2008. The word had leaked out that he was expected to announce his retirement after meeting with players and coaches earlier in the week. Tearfully, Mike made his way to table and sat down. "Though mentally I feel like I can continue, physically I can't," he said. "The second injury to my neck will prevent me from playing football forever." His eyes welled with tears. A multi-millionaire crying about not being able to play football. He struggled to convey his words. He said he couldn't be selfish and risk hurting his family. He already missed putting on the uniform and being with his teammates. He loved his city and hoped they would understand. I don't think I was the only person in Tampa with a tear in my eye that afternoon.

What powered Mike across the goal line that night against Washington was the same thing that makes him so legendary. Heart. A pure desire to accomplish what was set before him. 

Mike's number 40 is now retired by the Buccaneers. I know several other players who showed the same heart that will one day have their number honored as well. Barber. Brooks. Lynch.

Mike was named the 12th offensive player Sunday night. He ran out of the tunnel when his name and number were called, the air rife with cheers and cannons. He huddled the offense together one last time, firing the team up like he had done so many times before. He hugged everyone on the sideline he could get his hands on. And at half time, Mike was presented with the most valuable gift of all. A chance to speak to his fans once again, this time his eyes brimming with tears of pride. "I love you and I will miss you." Same here, Mike, same here.