Crisis gives Bruschi a purpose
By GARY SHELTON, Times Columnist
Published January 31, 2008
PHOENIX - On the best night of his life, Tedy Bruschi will remember the worst. Funny what perspective does to a man.
He will run onto a football field, and he will remember those days when he could not walk. He will stare into the bright lights, and he will remember the darkness. He will listen to the cheers, and he will remember the doubts.
In those private moments before a game begins, when a man is left to sort through his thoughts and his emotions, all of it will come rushing back, the pain, the fears, the uncertainty. Bruschi will think about where he is, and he will think about how far he has come. He will think about what he has regained, and what he could have lost.
And then, perhaps he will smile again.
Because more than anyone else's, this is Bruschi's game, and this is Bruschi's story.
- - -
Even now, more than a thousand nights later, he can remember lying on the gurney. He can remember his doctor's hands on his shoulder. He can remember his chilling voice.
"Tedy, you had a stroke."
A stroke? How could that be? How many 31-year-old linebackers have strokes? For goodness' sake, two days earlier he had played in the Pro Bowl. How could he have a stroke?
And after a stroke, whatever was going to be left of him?
It was Feb.15, 2005, and he had been awakened in the night with a searing pain in the back of his neck. His head hurt, and his left arm and leg felt odd. He rose to go to the bathroom, and when he stood, his left leg buckled and he had to catch himself.
Still, Bruschi was a professional football player, and waking in pain was nothing new. So he laid back down.
In the morning, however, the pain had not subsided and the numbness had not disappeared. Still, it was only when 5-year-old Tedy Jr. came rushing toward him that Bruschi realized he could not see out of his left eye, and he told his wife, Heidi, to call 911.
Later, doctors would tell him that a blood clot had gone through a hole in his heart into a lung and into his brain. At the time, however, all Bruschi knew was that he was in trouble.
"I realize how lucky I am," he said Wednesday morning. "I don't think anyone had said the words before, 'I played professional football after having a stroke.' It's just something you wouldn't even comprehend."
Bruschi didn't. He was struggling with his vision, with his balance, with his strength. He had a long way to go to be a functioning father to his three sons. Football seemed out of reach.
"I didn't think I would ever be a normal person again," he said.
For a while, it was all Bruschi could do to walk across a 3-inch beam lifted an inch above the floor. He kept tilting to his left and falling off. The strength in his left arm was gone. He still could not see out of his left eye. He had to learn to write his name again. Psychologically, he was even worse. There were times, he admits, he wondered if he would ever fully recover.
Over a 12-week span, however, he began to get stronger, better. And when his sight returned, his doctor said returning to football was a possibility. It sounded better to Bruschi than it did those around him.
"People told me I shouldn't," Bruschi said. "People said, 'You're crazy. What are you doing? Why are you attempting this comeback? You're a husband. You've got three children.' They didn't think it was possible. I had to make people realize just because you've had a stroke doesn't mean you can't get back to where you are.
"If I had had one doctor tell me I shouldn't do this, I wouldn't have."
Ten months after his stroke, Bruschi was back on the field.
Almost three years later, he is back in the Super Bowl.
If you want to know the truth, Bruschi is better than ever.
- - -
Their names are Paul and Michael Lyons. They think Bruschi is the bomb.
They have Bruschi posters in their bedrooms. They have autographed pictures. They have T-shirts.
They, too, have had strokes.
Michael is 6. He had his first stroke when he was 2, his next two a year later. Paul is 11. He had his first stroke at 7 and his second at 8. Together, the brothers, victims of Moyamoya syndrome, have had five brain surgeries.
"Paul came home from school one day," said Robin, the mother of Paul and Michael, "and he said, 'Did you know that Tedy Bruschi had a stroke, too? Wouldn't it be cool if he had Moyamoya, too?' I explained that, no, it wouldn't be cool. But Paul was just trying to get a relationship with Tedy. The kids think Tedy is great."
These days, a lot of stroke victims feel the same way. The American Stroke Association has begun a fundraising unit called Tedy's Team. So far, it has raised more than $500,000.
Bruschi will tell you he has received thousands of letters and e-mails, story after story of pain and recovery and challenges and hope. "It's humbling," he said. "My doctor tells me about stories where someone will have a stroke similar to mine and he'll say, 'Tedy Bruschi had this, and he's back to playing pro football. You're going to be fine.' That inspires me."
Bruschi pauses for a minute. Then he says the darndest thing.
"I think I was meant for this to happen to me. And I thank God it did."
Others do, too. Jessica Stokes, a fundraiser with Tedy's Team, talks about Sarah White, a former teammate on the Williams College swimming team. Sarah walks with a cane, and Jessica wonders if she ever will be able to live on her own.
"The Patriots have become Sarah's team," Stokes said. "I think she felt more connected because it's Tedy's team. It gives her hope."
Paul Lyons can tell you something about hope, too. He has begun to play hockey. Sometimes, he faints. Sometimes, he gets migraines.
"I get worried," Robin said. "But Paul always says, 'If Tedy Bruschi can play football, why can't I play hockey?'"
- - -
Time was, Bruschi thought he had it all.
He had played in four Super Bowls, and he had won three. He had made the Pro Bowl five times. He had family, friends, fame. What more could a man want?
And then he had a stroke.
"I thought I had a pretty good outlook on life," he said, laughing softly. "I thought I figured it out. I was focused on my family, football and faith. Things that were important. I had that down. And then the stroke comes along and it gives you a whole new outlook. You learn lessons that you never thought you could possibly learn."
Along the way, you learn that you have a wife who will argue with you if she thinks it is for your good. You learn how deeply you can affect strangers. You learn how much you matter to your teammates.
Ask Rodney Harrison about what Bruschi means to the Patriots, and he takes the hat from his head. He points at the team symbol, the flying Elvis as it is sometimes called.
"Every time I see the Patriots symbol, it reminds me of Tedy Bruschi," the strong safety said. "That's what Tedy is. He's the heart and soul of our team. He's a guy they looked at and said he would probably never walk again, let alone play football. For him to make that tremendous journey, to show the heart and resiliency, that's inspirational."
He could have died. His body could have been ravaged. And yet, he made it back. He regained his life. He became Tedy Bruschi all over again.
Sunday night, he plays in another Super Bowl. Who knows? At 34, Bruschi admits it could be his last game. What better way to end a journey than finishing as a champion, after an unbeaten season, close to where he played his college football (University of Arizona).
Still, Bruschi isn't talking about the future.
"After all," he said, "if anyone knows to take things one day at a time, that things can change overnight, it's me."