Dave Duerson: The Ultimate Teammate

So what kind of person was Dave Duerson? His life ended with the seemingly incongruous act of taking his own life, while at the same time selflessly doing so by shooting himself in the chest, a potentially deliberate decision so that his brain could be preserved and studied. Duerson sent text messages to family members that he wanted his brain studied for the same tissue damage, C.T.E., that affected former players like Andre Waters, who also committed suicide. Unlike other former players who were studied post-mortem, though, Duerson seemed acutely aware of the issues that he might be facing. It’s as if he knew he was already fatally injured and of two minds, one that couldn’t escape and deal with the trauma and inevitability he was experiencing, and the other, the consummate teammate, wanting to help others.

His passing should scare the hell out of the National Football League, and every player out there. This was not some fringe player who lived life on the edge of society; Dave Duerson was the All-American guy that the league should want to promote. His college coach, Gerry Faust, said of Duerson in 1981: “Dave is a blue-chip blue chip, as a football player and as a person.” He was an all-state player in high school, but was also a scholar athlete, traveling overseas, playing musical instruments, and heavily involved in living life.

In this article from 1982 with the caption “Notre Dame’s Dave Duerson: football player with a bright future,” Duerson (who graduated from Notre Dame with a economics degree) talks of working as a law clerk and interning with Dick Luger of Indiana in Washington, D.C., and mentions the possibility of law school and politics after college. Instead, the tri-captain of the Notre Dame team and Football Writers of Association All-American as a senior was drafted in the third round by the Chicago Bears and continued playing the sport. He was an unknown and unproven rookie that first year, primarily playing on special teams. When Coach Mike Ditka told him to take out kicker Eddie Murray on a late kickoff after the Lions ran a fake field goal with a minute left, well, Duerson made a name for himself by following the order.

Two years later, he got an opportunity to start at strong safety, when Todd Bell held out, and became a key part as a blitzing strong safety in the 4-6 defense. He went on to play until he was 33. He made four pro bowls. He was the Walter Payton Man of the Year in 1987. Dave Duerson was more than a football player–he was a charitable man, a devoted friend, and an intelligent well-rounded person.

Who knows what they will find once the brain tissue is studied? Duerson seemed to have some idea. He was aware of these issues, having served on a committee as an NFLPA representative reviewing former player’s claims of cognitive problems. After running businesses, getting his MBA post-career, working with the NFLPA, and serving on the Notre Dame’s Board of Trustees, he had some difficulties in the last five years. How much of the business problems or his divorce were offshoots of brain tissue damage that altered who he was? We’ll never know for sure. When did the hits that could have caused such damage develop? In high school, when he was an all-state running back? In college, as a defensive back and also the player with the most punt returns in Notre Dame history when he graduated? With Chicago, playing as a blitzing safety, or at age 33, playing out the final days as a reserve in Phoenix? All of it, none if it?

We’ll never know for sure. The family released a statement immediately after his death: “Our family asks that you please remember Dave as a good, kind and caring man. He loved and cherished his family and friends and was extremely proud of his beloved Notre Dame and Chicago Bears. Please keep Dave and our family in your prayers.”

We will. We don’t know what might have been for Duerson if he his path had diverged from pro football before 1983 to public service or any other avenue he could have ably handled. I do know that he should be remembered as the ultimate teammate, the guy always there with a quote after a bad day, and an ethos that kept him wanting to make a difference even in death. I have a feeling he will still make a difference. Rest in peace.

[photo via Getty]