RIVERSIDE, Calif. — The old pro could feel the earthquake 3,000 miles away. He watched the endless television reports, on two knees, wondering whether his future had suddenly become his past. He looked for familiar faces in the rubble, but ended up with a throbbing headache instead. He cringed at the thought of more funerals and woke up that first night in a sweat, flashing back to a cup of coffee that was never drunk, flashing forward to a house that never had kids. He decided there was nothing worse than an empty home. And at that moment, no home was more barren than the old pro’s.
The one person who had mattered most in his life was already gone. And now it seemed as if the earth was swallowing his second family whole, five at once. He had no way of calming his mind, no way of getting real news, because the phone lines were severed. But it was his gut feeling he’d seen the last of them. Three boys and two girls — history. He decided if they were buried alive, it would be the end of him, that he would be the first man to die twice. He figured his obituary would read: “Former NFL star, 69, dies of guilt.” He figured he’d just lie down and his whole remarkable, tortured life would pass in front of his eyes. Like this …
Source: ESPN
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