A personality like Ironhead Heyward will provoke a lot of memories from columnists. This is one of the better stories I’ve read. Chicago Bears training camp in 1993.
I was standing next to him after a Bears practice when two elderly white women approached using delicate steps.
The conversation unfolded this way:
“May we have your autograph?” one of the women whispered.
“Why, sure!” Heyward said, with pure joy and excitement.
“I think you’re going to be my favorite Bear,” one of the women said.
“I’d love that,” Heyward answered. “And you two will be my favorite fans.”
“Ooooh!” both women responded.
“I see you have a camera,” Heyward continued. “Let’s take a picture together.”
And he stood in the middle, arms around each woman. Both asked me to take the shot. I obliged.
Three of the biggest, warmest smiles ever filled the frame.
Heyward afterward gave each woman an enduring hug. He planted a loving kiss on each one’s cheek.
I heard one of them say as they walked away: “That’s the first time I’ve ever been kissed by a black man.”
The other offered: “What a charmer! What a guy! Imagine if every professional football player treated fans that way. I’ll never forget it.”
If you ever met Heyward, no surprise if you left feeling the same way.
I’ve been reading stories like this. There’s acknowledgment of Heyward’s excesses as well, but most seemed to be of the opinion that the goods far outweighed the bads.
Of course for some, like the NY Post sports grump Phil Mushnick sees a chance to take a whack at him and now ESPN college football color analyst Mike Gottfried.
While Heyward’s death wasn’t a big story in terms of time and space provided it, he was a significant historical sports figure. In 1988, Heyward made for the perfect storm example of the academic, financial and social fraud daily committed in this country in the psychotic quest to win ballgames.
Growing up in Passaic, N.J., Heyward was more inclined toward trouble than school, but what did it matter? He was a big, fast RB. The University of Pittsburgh gave him a full, free ride.
At Pitt, Heyward wasn’t much for school and was arrested several times. But none of that kept him from playing for Pitt.
Weeks after Heyward rushed for 130 yards in Pitt’s loss to Texas in the 1987 New Year’s Eve Bluebonnet Bowl, Mike Gottfied, now an ESPN college football analyst and then Pitt’s head coach, announced Heyward could no longer play for him and Pitt. Heyward had signed with an agent – Bruce Allen, son of famed NFL coach George Allen – thus, Heyward was done.
While Heyward was through, Gottfried wasn’t. He ripped Allen for taking advantage of Heyward, adding Allen had “deprived Heyward of a free college education.”
Noble sentiment. But Heyward hadn’t been to a class at Pitt for the entire previous semester. And because no one could recall seeing him in a classroom the semester before that, Heyward may have helped win games for Gottfried and Pitt without having attended a class for an entire academic year.
Still, Gottfried blasted Allen for taking advantage of Heyward and for depriving him of a college education. That’s why Gottfried, for colossal gall, alone, is no less a significant contributor to sports history than Heyward.
I do wonder about the consistently negative sportswriters. Nothing is ever good, and you wonder if it is even possible for them to enjoy sports any longer.
UPDATE: Pitt has info on the funeral arrangements. The family is asking that instead of any flowers, people consider donating to the Southeastern Brain Tumor Foundation.
