Arrow-right Camera
The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Diaz: John Mackey’s struggle leads to good cause for NFL brethren

John Mackey’s legacy will live on, thanks to the dedication of his wife Sylvia. (Associated Press)
George Diaz Orlando Sentinel

John Mackey’s story begins with a chokehold of despair and rage, and ends in death. But there is an epilogue that brings hope and the comforting feel of home.

That’s why some of his blood brothers in the NFL were wearing hard hats and holding shovels in Ocoee, Florida, on Thursday afternoon. As the stormy weather moved in, a ray of sunshine trickled over a tent crowded with dignitaries and former players.

The pardon-our-dust construction site will soon give rise to the future home for those who share the scars of their trade with Mackey, a Hall-of-Famer for a decade with the Baltimore Colts. Playing in the NFL has its perks and its pain. They were once giants, beaten down by a cocktail of traumatic injuries: Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s diseases, and ALS.

Nearly 30 percent of former NFL players will end up battling Alzheimer’s disease or dementia during their lifetime, placing them at a significantly higher risk than the general population. They are twice as likely as the general population to suffer from early-onset Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, dementia or ALS.

Sylvia Mackey, John’s college sweetheart and widow, knew someone needed to make the issue relevant to the NFL, which for years had conveniently looked the other way until the data become overwhelmingly obvious.

Sylvia Mackey’s good fight will come to fruition in the partnership between Florida-based Validus Senior Living and the NFL Alumni Association to build an assisted care and memory facility in Ocoee with a capacity for 158 residents. Plans are to build one in every NFL city. Projected costs for this one are more than $1 billion. The facility, scheduled to open next summer, will include a pool, boardwalk, dog park, tiki hut, putting green and a fishing pier.

“I lost the love of my life,” Mackey said, “but I have not lost the love for him and his legacy.”

The facility will welcome the wounded warriors of the NFL who qualify for assistance under the NFL’s “88 Plan” – a fund that pays up to $88,000 in medical expenses to the families of retired players with dementia. The 88 honors Mackey’s jersey number with the Colts.

There are more than 18,000 former NFL players scattered around the nation, all with different degrees of pain and risk factors. The NFL-centric facility is important for basic reasons, starting with the size of the patients and their demeanor. They all were alpha-males once, with mind and body slowly deteriorating.

“We know a lot of families of NFL players with dementia who have struggled to find appropriate long-term care, who have been turned away,” said Christopher Nowinski, one of the leading advocates for studying the long-term effects of head trauma among athletes. “They develop dementia at a younger age, and are large and physically fit. Some places don’t want to take on the risk of violence.”

There’s another sad twist in these stories. Players are reluctant to reach out. “Pride,” said former NFL quarterback Ron Jaworski, one of the guys holding shovels on Thursday.

Jaworski saw the combustible clash of pride and pain with his former Kansas City Chiefs roommate Mike Webster, who died in 2002 at age 50 after developing CTE. He ended up broke, sleeping in bus terminals or in cars and gulping down painkillers.

Mackey, who died at age 69 in 2011, had a gentler descent. It wasn’t just silly forgetful things. He insisted he didn’t have a sister during a passionate phone call. He used a spoon to drink coffee, thinking it was soup. He became enraged at an airport security checkpoint.

Sylvia made a checklist, heartbreaking as it was, knowing it was only going to get worse.

She sent then-NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue a hand-written letter. He wrote one back, saying he had read it to his wife, and that she had cried. He also promised that no one’s tears would go in vain. The 88 plan would soon be implemented.

“Somebody’s got to throw the ball,” Sylvia said, “and somebody has to catch it.”

Years later, the ball is still in the air. The shovels and the hard hats are the latest accessories that document the legacy of her greatest love.