More Than Meets the Eye

Chris Spielman and His True Love

An excerpt from Raising a Man by Todd W. Skipton

Never underestimate a great man, or a great woman, especially when their powers are combined. Add in a boundless love unrestrained by mortality and the possibilities are endless. Chris Spielman gained fame as a great football player; he became a greater man because life, and his beloved wife, demanded it. This chapter is an excerpt from the 2010 ebook Raising A Man by Todd Skipton, available at http://raising-a-man.org.

Chris Spielman “… Most important thing to remember is this: to be ready at any moment to give up what you are, for what you might become.” William Edward Burghardt “W.E.B.” DuBois (1868-1963), author and activist. “When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” Lao Tzu. It is a love story for the ages. A man and a woman begin their relationship as teenage sweethearts. The man carves a path of glory and acclaim on the gridiron. Many think his one and only love is the sport. The sweethearts marry, and the woman devotes most of her time and talents toward raising their children. In time, a health crisis strikes. The woman stays strong – she prepares herself for a long battle and fights a courageous fight. Their love for each other and their family grows in proportion to the challenges they confront together. Her time grows short. The man and the woman transcend their past in order to build a legacy that will last. She is taken from him, but it’s not an end to the story, it’s a new chapter. A template is cast, for their children: live for others, love forever. Faith, family, and friends means the good never ends. One family, united unto death and beyond. One man, one woman, and one shared soul, forevermore. This is the tale of Chris Spielman, and his wife Stefanie Lynn Spielman (1967-2009). Certain NFL football players do not appear to have the requisite physical gifts for Pro Bowl-caliber success when they are measured by a tape or a stopwatch or a naked eye. They are talented enough to make an NFL team, but they are deemed “too short” or “too small” to become a star. “He does not look the part” and “he’s not talented enough” are some of the common criticisms they hear. Yet a small number of these players, due to their personalities, will, pride and desire, find a way to outperform expectations and become elite players.

In order to compensate for their comparative lack of talent, they exhibit uncommon discipline, organization, and commitment. They devour game film and study the tendencies of their opponent until it is imbedded in their subconscious. They internalize the nuances of the game down to the smallest detail. Many observers consider their passion, their intensity, and their zest for life as abnormal. Their willingness to learn; their hard work and preparation; and their devotion elicit admiration from fans. They play with the boundless enthusiasm of a young man who has been given an unexpected gift. Their fierce competitiveness and frenzied approach to everything involved with the game makes them a legend among their peers. Their ultimate success exceeds all predictions. Spielman was the poster child of this player! A pro coach said, “He plays every play like it’s his last.” Spielman said, “If I’m not good at something, I’ll triple up my work until I am.” Less than 5 tackles into his first professional practice, his coaches pulled him aside and instructed him to “save something for the regular season.” But he never learned to hold back. When he was a 5-year-old, he textbook-tackled his grandmother full-bore as his response to her innocent question “do you want to play football?” If his grandma could handle his enthusiasm and vigor, couldn’t the pros? Spielman’s sizzling need to dominate, to crush, and to exceed were greater than almost any other pro he encountered. Even in that rarefied atmosphere of physical toughness and aggression, he distanced himself from his peers. Full speed, throttle wide open, with all caution cast aside was the only way to play the game he loved. “When I was little, I had no conception of stopping … I’d just run … through a wall,” he said. His first great hit on a football field? “It was October 12, 1976. I was 11 … a kid was running … and fumbled. I hit him while he was trying to pick up the ball and I broke his jaw and his helmet.” Soon, other parents in the league tried to ban him because he was so severe and so rugged that he caused many injuries. His dad said, “He just played with such intensity. He got so fired up. He was playing the game the way it is supposed to be played … he’s like a caged lion. He’s been that way since day 1. He has to get the contact.” His father was a high-school football coach in the hot-bed of Midwest football near the Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio when Spielman first attended high school practices. He duplicated to perfection whatever the linebackers did, and was downright vicious in tackling his older brother. Spielman was 3 years old! “I think people are born with certain things they love to do. Mine was that I love contact…,” said Spielman.

By the time he was a sophomore in high school, his coach said, “Somebody better start melting the bronze for the statue they’re going to build of this kid.” Spielman said, “Tradition. Success. Commitment. I set huge goals. My main goal is to be the best that I can be. I work myself to the point that I can’t work anymore to get the best that I have to offer out of myself. If I don’t, I won’t be able to look myself in the mirror.” In his first college scrimmage at Ohio State University he made 15 tackles in 26 plays. In the final pre-season scrimmage of his freshman year he made 6 tackles in the first 10 plays then twisted his ankle. He limped off, upset and on the brink of tears, because “I don’t want them to think I’m a sissy. And I know if I let up on somebody I won’t sleep at night,” he said. His position coach said, “Sometimes the other kids wonder what makes him go.” In the NFL he became a team leader in an instant. His wish was to play in every game and in every situation. He took charge in the huddle, as a defensive captain, and he served as a veritable coach on the field. He believed in the power of preparation and watched countless game films; charting tendencies, finding weaknesses, and discovering ways to emerge victorious. His constant emphasis was on excellence. His love of football was inspirational and contagious and he influenced every teammate with his workaholic example. He considered mastery of football to be an accumulation of slight advantages which over time allowed a decided edge to the more diligent and more prepared. The more he practiced, the more decided the advantage. He was accorded universal respect because of his approach. He demanded dedication and effort from his teammates; they couldn’t complain because he demanded even more of himself. He was motivated by greatness and not greed. His ultimate quest was to convert every weakness into strength, and carry his team to a Super Bowl title no matter the cost – or he’d destroy himself in the process. Destroy himself, and others, he did. “The pain is so common that you almost become immune to it,” Spielman said in regard to injuries. At various times he played with a torn pectoral muscle that was ripped in full from his rib cage; a broken rib; a broken thumb; a chewed-up shoulder that rendered him a 1-armed tackler; and many other minor injuries. Why did he continue to play in spite of the excruciating pain? “It has to do with commitment, responsibility – to yourself, to your teammates, to your coaches…,” he said. “I’ll tell you what motivates me the most. It’s fear of failing, of not succeeding in life,” Spielman said. He had an all-consuming drive to get better in every way, at every facet of the game. How hard did he prepare? “Time to enter a different world. I believe I can’t be outworked. Everything is geared toward being a player. A football player,” he said.

In manner and thought he was a direct descendent of another age, and he would have been right at home in the days when money didn’t matter as much and the NFL wasn’t just a “product,” it was a way of life for rough, tough men who loved to play the sport. He was an anachronism; a man born out of time. Second effort became the motto of his performance. “There are people who just plain love to run into things,” he said, and he never shied away from contact. A spinal injury to his neck forced a fusion of 2 vertebrae using a piece of his thighbone. Soon after, Stefanie miscarried and in the resulting examinations was diagnosed with breast cancer. Spielman decided to take a leave of absence for a year and help his wife with her battle. “It was a no-brainer. For 10 years Stefanie had sacrificed everything for me. If I had a single wish, I’d wish it was me that had the cancer,” he said, “because I love her more than I love my own life.” The Spielmans tackled her illness with the same dedication, desire and thoroughness with which he approached football. He researched treatment methods and prepared reams of questions for her doctors; she dealt with media attention by using the publicity as a platform for fundraising. He was in attack mode; she was the emotional rock who took it upon herself to serve as a public inspiration for other families also battling with cancer. They believed they’d been given a mission – their difficult struggle and trials and tribulations had been bestowed upon them for a particular reason. “I’ve learned a lot from the way Chris approaches football. He’s taught me strength and discipline and motivation,” said Stefanie. They believed that their unborn baby whose death led to the discovery of cancer was an angel sent from heaven; they were obligated to honor the gift. They became outspoken public advocates, and Stefanie founded support groups and other organizations. Spielman garnered much attention and much praise for his choice to walk away from the game he loved. He deferred the platitudes and it became obvious that his priority was family, not football. “People say, ‘It’s a great thing that you’re doing.’ I always say it would be a terrible thing if I didn’t,” said Spielman. “I would have considered myself a fraud if I didn’t do this.” During his year away from the game, her cancer went into remission. Spielman returned to football for several preseason games before suffering a relapse of his neck injury. He was knocked to the ground and remained motionless, paralyzed for a moment, until medical personnel examined him. His fans knew that he was done - he’d often stated that if he ever required medical assistance to leave the field, he’d retire immediately. And so it was. The man who loved to play football was finished as a player. His real life, as a man of destiny, was just beginning.

Stefanie’s cancer returned at least 4 separate times in the next decade-plus. Throughout, husband and wife continued with their mission of public fundraising, and they devoted most of the remainder of their time to raising their 4 children. The Stefanie Spielman Fund for Breast Cancer Research contributed at least $6 million for research to The James Cancer Hospital at Ohio State, and Stefanie was a buoyant and brave public face of the fight for detection and research. In November 2009, Stefanie died. Lance Armstrong, a close friend and fellow fighter of cancer, said “We have lost a leader … Stefanie was a living example of courage and strength to everyone around her.” She touched the hearts of many, smiled through adversity and pain, and revealed the true love inside the heart of her husband. Today, the Spielman children are using her death as motivation to continue her fundraising. “There’s no reason for us to be sad,” said a Spielman daughter. “It would be selfish of us to want her back when she’s in such a special place.” The children have vowed to continue the fight their mom began. “It’s amazing how much football teaches you about life,” Spielman said. And it’s amazing what a sports icon can teach us about raising a woman, and raising a man. “Forget about likes and dislikes. They are of no consequence. Just do what must be done. This may not be happiness, but it is greatness.” George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), Irish playwright. “… I pray not for a lighter load but for stronger shoulders.” St. Augustine the Blessed of Hippo, (354-430), Algerian Catholic bishop. “If I am not for myself who will be? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?” Hillel the Elder (110-10 B.C.), Babylonian Jewish religious leader and scholar.