Pat Tillman: One man, one sacrifice

This article was originally published on Saturday, April 24, 2004:

At ease.

That's what Pat Tillman would tell us. He would say that he was just another soldier.

He marched to the cadence of a patriotic heartbeat, and, as he would tell you, he also marched to his own drummer.

But the NFL player-turned-soldier's death Thursday in Afghanistan shook the nation as few have in the 2 1/2-year war against terror. Tillman, 27, was killed when his Army Rangers patrol was attacked.

His death rocked a state that proudly flaunted him as one of its own, a hard-nosed Arizona State star and one of the Arizona Cardinals' most popular players. His death shook the cynical sports world, where rejecting NFL millions for military service had seemed the ultimate sacrifice. And his death hardened the resolve of the young men and women who might follow him into combat.

"I've been walking around all day with a lump in my throat," said Mark Thompson, 46, of Peoria, a longtime Tillman fan and retired Air Force master sergeant.

"Pat Tillman lived life to the fullest and will be remembered forever in my heart and mind," said Denver Broncos quarterback Jake Plummer, his friend and longtime teammate with ASU and the Cardinals.

Josh Young, a North High School senior who reports to the U.S. Military Academy in June, said, "It hit me hard. ... There's not a better way to die than serving your country. It's a shame he missed out on life. But he was where he belonged."

Tillman had stunned the sports world in May 2002 when he told the Cardinals he would leave the NFL in his prime to serve his country. Not only did he want to join the Army, he wanted to join the special forces. The decision, forged after the Sept. 11 attacks and shortly after marrying Marie, his longtime girlfriend, seemed incomprehensible to many. Why would he give up his charmed life?

Tillman often said he was a person who simply followed his instincts. Foremost a patriot, he also remained the 5-year-old thrill-seeker who climbed onto the porch of his family's San Jose house during a powerful windstorm and wrapped himself around a tree for fun, much to the dismay of his mother.

A host of tributes

His death in another storm, a military operation titled Operation Mountain Storm, cast a wider shadow than most, bringing back memories of Lori Piestewa, another Arizonan who lost her life in the terror conflict.

After Tillman's death was confirmed Friday morning, a garden of flower bouquets adorned the Victory Bell outside Sun Devil Stadium, and fans dropped by to pay their respects at the Cardinals practice facility in Tempe.

The formal tributes poured in:

* The plaza surrounding the Cardinals' new stadium will be named Pat Tillman Freedom Plaza, the team announced. Tillman's No. 40 jersey also will be retired.

* ASU will retire his No. 42 jersey after the 2004 season. It is an honor that has been bestowed upon only four other players in the 107-year-old program's history. ASU also will place his name on the honor ring at Sun Devil Stadium at a game Nov. 13.

The Cardinals and ASU also will create a Pat Tillman Memorial Scholarship. Arizona State officials hope to plan further tributes after consulting with the family.

His Arizona State coach, Bruce Snyder, said, "I almost naively had a sense that the guy was indestructible and invincible and was so smart and so athletic and so courageous that he would be fine. Obviously, war is a difficult thing, and those things don't hold up."

"He was a very special, unique person," said former Cardinals coach Dave McGinnis, now an assistant with the Tennessee Titans. "At the same time, all our young men and women serving over there are unique. The pain I'm feeling is felt throughout the country."

News of Tillman's death brought thousands of memories to the minds of Cardinals employees, players and coaches.

Tillman riding his bike to his first practices in 1998. His long, philosophical talks with coaches before practices. Tillman followed his own path and his own instincts.

At Leland High School in San Jose, those instincts prompted him to charge onto the field during a game and return a kickoff for a touchdown, even after his coach had benched him. That coach, Terry Hardtke, hid Tillman's helmet and shoulder pads so he wouldn't do it again.

At Arizona State, those instincts spurred him to climb a 200-foot light tower above Sun Devil Stadium and meditate.

As a Cardinal, those instincts led him to participation in marathons and triathlons during the off-seasons.

Far-reaching appeal

Tillman's appeal was far-reaching. At Fuller Elementary School in Tempe on Friday, Tillman's death dominated conversations, said Ruth Medina, a senior administrative assistant.

At Sun City Country Club, "everyone's just talking about how sad it is," said Bobbie Waskiewicz, 63, the course office manager.

Children loved his underdog story, that an undersized defensive player could succeed in college and in the NFL. Adults loved that he turned down a $3.6 million contract from the Cardinals for an $18,000 salary with the Army Rangers.

We all loved his lack of pretension.

He often dressed in T-shirt and flip-flops and would ride an old bike to the Cardinals training facility, pulling in behind his teammates' Escalades and Mercedes. His conversations would be punctuated by a mischievous smile and repeated use of the word "dude."

When his agent, Frank Bauer, told him in 2001 that the St. Louis Rams would pay him $9 million to leave the Cardinals, Tillman declined the offer.

"He said he wanted to remain loyal to the people who were loyal to him," Bauer said. "I said, 'Do you know what you're doing?' "

He always did, and that included the decision to enlist along with brother Kevin, on the heels of the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks.

"I wasn't that surprised or concerned," said Green Bay offensive lineman Grey Ruegamer, a teammate of Tillman's at ASU. "Everyone who played with Pat knew he could take care of himself."

We loved how he gave a face to all soldiers.

Once the shock of Sept. 11 wore off, many of us gave little thought to the military as we became consumed with our lives. Tillman jolted us back to reality, reminding us that there were still battles being fought, that there were still men and women putting their lives on the line.

"In today's world of instant gratification and selfishness, here is a man that was defined by words like loyalty, honor, passion, courage, strength and nobility," said Bob Ferguson, the Seattle Seahawks general manager, who, as a Cardinals executive, was instrumental in drafting Tillman. "He is a modern-day hero. As much as I loved him, we need to recognize that this is just one story, one man, one sacrifice."

Tillman would agree. Just about everyone else saw it as so much more.

Reporters Kent Somers, Paul Coro and Richard Obert contributed to this article.