You're a better man than I am, Pat Tillman!
You're better than many of us. You especially are better than the grave-robbers who are looting your name.
I am saddened by Pat Tillman's death. I am wounded by the aftermath, the exploiting – even the ridiculing – of an athlete-turned-soldier who died in the line of duty.
I don't know if Pat Tillman is a genuine American hero or simply a genuine American. He was not a hero when he played football because, unless there are special circumstances, athletes are neither heroes nor courageous.
The most combative athlete I've been around was Dan Fouts, the former Chargers quarterback now enshrined in the Hall of Fame. Fouts would play injured and bloodied. He was a bold leader with a fierce desire to win, as intense in victory as in defeat.
But he was not a hero. He played a game.
"It would be embarrassing to even be put in the same sentence with Pat," says Fouts, now a college football analyst for ABC. "To be compared as an athlete to a soldier is insane – especially to a soldier like Pat."
Pat Tillman did not become an Army Ranger expecting to be Audie Murphy or Alvin York. He joined because of love of country. He thought it was the right thing, as thousands of others voluntarily do. What made him different was that he had position and a bit of wealth and celebrity, apparently three things GIs can't have.
When we were running around the Fort Bragg, N.C., acreage during basic training, our drill sergeant demanded that we sing: "I want to live a life of danger, I want to be an Airborne Ranger."
I sang, but I lied. I did not want to live a life of danger. I did not want to jump out of perfectly good airplanes. I wanted to be a sportswriter, a profession in which the greatest danger often is having tobacco juice spit on our shoes.
But that doesn't mean I didn't admire those who wanted to. I did. I still have a special affinity for the men and women in uniform. Maybe even more so now, because most who serve want to be a part of it.
After 9/11, Pat Tillman, professional football player, wanted to be a part of it. In 2002, he spurned a $3.6 million offer to continue playing safety for the Arizona Cardinals and joined the Rangers, an elite group in which his brother also served.
Monday in San Jose there will be a public memorial service for Cpl. Pat Tillman, promoted and decorated posthumously with a Silver Star and a Purple Heart. He was killed April 22 during an ambush on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.
I'm sure he would prefer to be buried without the fanfare, because so many others, serving as he did, have died without it. And he was no better than them, only different.
We hear an average of 1,200 people who served during World War II are dying every day. These are the men and women who saved America. In another 60 years, let us hope the number isn't as high for those who have survived this time of terror, that we will be living longer, in peace and less insanity.
But as of now, some simply see certain deaths as conduits to making money or names for themselves.
How else can we explain University of Massachusetts-Amherst graduate student Rene Gonzalez? This week, Gonzalez wrote a column in the school's The Daily Collegian headlined: "Pat Tillman was not a hero; he got what was coming to him."
In this piece, Gonzalez wrote: "I could tell he was that type of macho guy, from his scowling, beefy face on the CNN pictures. Well, he got his wish. Even 'Rambo' got shot in the third movie, but in real life, you die as a result of getting shot.
"I guess someone with a bigger gun did him in."
Gonzalez also noted that, in his native Puerto Rico, Tillman would not be considered a hero but an idiot. "Prophetic idiocy," he wrote.
Freedom of speech. Freedom of the press. Certainly, being a hero is open to interpretation. But in this country, with this job, I also have the right to consider Gonzalez a selfish jackass, out for the outrageous, to make a name by being the opposite of right and basically worthless, William Hung without pathetic portfolio.
And, please, remind me to stay out of Puerto Rico, where I guess I'd be considered a hero.
Meanwhile, destruction, war, death, famine, pestilence and tragedy can't keep the looters from their appointed rounds. When something goes terribly wrong in this country, you always can count on the advantage-takers. Fame, after all, can be as fleeting as a snowflake on a capitalist's nose.
As of last count on eBay, the Internet trading post, there were more than 450 pieces of Pat Tillman "American Hero" memorabilia up for auction, the most expensive an American flag, signed by him, going at close to $2,000.
"That's the freedom Pat was defending," Fouts explains.
So he was. But there is something so wrong about the manipulation of death. The NFL, already accused this year of exploiting sex, at least has kept its praise of Pat Tillman low-key.
Pat Tillman lived, loved, played, fought and died an American soldier of choice. This is how he should be remembered.
Thing is, he's worth more now to some. He no longer can pose for a picture or sign autographs.
http://www.signonsandiego.com
You're better than many of us. You especially are better than the grave-robbers who are looting your name.
I am saddened by Pat Tillman's death. I am wounded by the aftermath, the exploiting – even the ridiculing – of an athlete-turned-soldier who died in the line of duty.
I don't know if Pat Tillman is a genuine American hero or simply a genuine American. He was not a hero when he played football because, unless there are special circumstances, athletes are neither heroes nor courageous.
The most combative athlete I've been around was Dan Fouts, the former Chargers quarterback now enshrined in the Hall of Fame. Fouts would play injured and bloodied. He was a bold leader with a fierce desire to win, as intense in victory as in defeat.
But he was not a hero. He played a game.
"It would be embarrassing to even be put in the same sentence with Pat," says Fouts, now a college football analyst for ABC. "To be compared as an athlete to a soldier is insane – especially to a soldier like Pat."
Pat Tillman did not become an Army Ranger expecting to be Audie Murphy or Alvin York. He joined because of love of country. He thought it was the right thing, as thousands of others voluntarily do. What made him different was that he had position and a bit of wealth and celebrity, apparently three things GIs can't have.
When we were running around the Fort Bragg, N.C., acreage during basic training, our drill sergeant demanded that we sing: "I want to live a life of danger, I want to be an Airborne Ranger."
I sang, but I lied. I did not want to live a life of danger. I did not want to jump out of perfectly good airplanes. I wanted to be a sportswriter, a profession in which the greatest danger often is having tobacco juice spit on our shoes.
But that doesn't mean I didn't admire those who wanted to. I did. I still have a special affinity for the men and women in uniform. Maybe even more so now, because most who serve want to be a part of it.
After 9/11, Pat Tillman, professional football player, wanted to be a part of it. In 2002, he spurned a $3.6 million offer to continue playing safety for the Arizona Cardinals and joined the Rangers, an elite group in which his brother also served.
Monday in San Jose there will be a public memorial service for Cpl. Pat Tillman, promoted and decorated posthumously with a Silver Star and a Purple Heart. He was killed April 22 during an ambush on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.
I'm sure he would prefer to be buried without the fanfare, because so many others, serving as he did, have died without it. And he was no better than them, only different.
We hear an average of 1,200 people who served during World War II are dying every day. These are the men and women who saved America. In another 60 years, let us hope the number isn't as high for those who have survived this time of terror, that we will be living longer, in peace and less insanity.
But as of now, some simply see certain deaths as conduits to making money or names for themselves.
How else can we explain University of Massachusetts-Amherst graduate student Rene Gonzalez? This week, Gonzalez wrote a column in the school's The Daily Collegian headlined: "Pat Tillman was not a hero; he got what was coming to him."
In this piece, Gonzalez wrote: "I could tell he was that type of macho guy, from his scowling, beefy face on the CNN pictures. Well, he got his wish. Even 'Rambo' got shot in the third movie, but in real life, you die as a result of getting shot.
"I guess someone with a bigger gun did him in."
Gonzalez also noted that, in his native Puerto Rico, Tillman would not be considered a hero but an idiot. "Prophetic idiocy," he wrote.
Freedom of speech. Freedom of the press. Certainly, being a hero is open to interpretation. But in this country, with this job, I also have the right to consider Gonzalez a selfish jackass, out for the outrageous, to make a name by being the opposite of right and basically worthless, William Hung without pathetic portfolio.
And, please, remind me to stay out of Puerto Rico, where I guess I'd be considered a hero.
Meanwhile, destruction, war, death, famine, pestilence and tragedy can't keep the looters from their appointed rounds. When something goes terribly wrong in this country, you always can count on the advantage-takers. Fame, after all, can be as fleeting as a snowflake on a capitalist's nose.
As of last count on eBay, the Internet trading post, there were more than 450 pieces of Pat Tillman "American Hero" memorabilia up for auction, the most expensive an American flag, signed by him, going at close to $2,000.
"That's the freedom Pat was defending," Fouts explains.
So he was. But there is something so wrong about the manipulation of death. The NFL, already accused this year of exploiting sex, at least has kept its praise of Pat Tillman low-key.
Pat Tillman lived, loved, played, fought and died an American soldier of choice. This is how he should be remembered.
Thing is, he's worth more now to some. He no longer can pose for a picture or sign autographs.
http://www.signonsandiego.com
