[Congressional Record Volume 145, Number 152 (Tuesday, November 2, 1999)]
[Senate]
[Pages S13621-S13622]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                       THE DEATH OF WALTER PAYTON

  Mr. FITZGERALD. Mr. President, I rise today to express my sadness at 
the news of the death of one of football's greatest stars ever, 
Chicago's own Walter Payton.
  Walter Payton was a hero, a leader, and a role model both on and off 
the field. For 13 years, he thrilled Chicago Bears' fans as the NFL's 
all-time leading rusher--perhaps one of the greatest running backs ever 
to play the game of football. After retiring from professional football 
in 1987, Payton continued to touch the lives of Chicagoans as an 
entrepreneur and a community leader.
  Walter Payton's historic career began at Jackson State University, 
where he set a college football record for points scored. The first 
choice in the 1975 NFL draft, Payton--or ``Sweetness'' as he was known 
to Chicago Bears fans--became the NFL's all-time leader in running and 
in combined net yards and scored 110 touchdowns during his career with 
the Bears. He made the Pro Bowl nine times and was named the league's 
Most Valuable Player twice, in 1977 and 1985. In 1977, Payton rushed 
for a career-high 1,852 yards and carried the Bears to the playoffs for 
the first time since 1963. He broke Jim Brown's long-standing record in 
1984 to become the league's all-time leading rusher, and finished his 
career with a record 16,726 total rushing yards. In 1985-86, Walter 
Payton led the Bears to an unforgettable 15-1 season and Super Bowl 
victory--the first and only Super Bowl win in Bears' history. Walter 
Payton was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1993, and was 
selected this year as the Greatest All-Time NFL Player by more than 200 
players from the NFL Draft Class of 1999.
  More important, Walter Payton matched his accomplishments on the 
football field with his selfless actions off the field on behalf of 
those in need. He earned a degree in special education from Jackson 
State University and worked throughout his adult life to improve the 
lives of children. In 1988, he

[[Page S13622]]

established the Halas/Payton Foundation to help educate Chicago's 
youth.
  Walter Payton was truly an American hero in every sense of the term. 
He died tragically at age 45, but his legacy will live in our hearts 
and minds forever. Today, Mr. President, Illinois mourns. Sweetness, we 
will miss you.
  Mr. DURBIN. Mr. President, I rise today to pay tribute to perhaps the 
best running back who ever carried a football, Walter Payton, who died 
yesterday at the age of 45. In Carl Sandburg's City of the Big 
Shoulders, ``Sweetness,'' as Payton was nicknamed, managed to carry the 
football hopes of an entire city on his shoulders for 13 magnificent 
years.
  From the law firms on LaSalle to the meat packing plants on Fulton, 
Monday mornings in Chicago were always filled with tales of Payton's 
exploits on the field from the previous day. We marveled at his ability 
and reveled in the glory he brought to Chicago and Da Bears. In a life 
cut short by a rare disease, he blessed Chicago with several lifetimes 
of charisma, courage, and talent.
  Who could forget the many times Payton lined up in the red zone and 
soared above opposing defenders for a Bears touchdown? Or the frequency 
with which his 5-10, 204-pound frame bowled over 250-pound linebackers 
en route to another 100-yard-plus rushing game? His relentless pursuit 
of that extra yard and the passion with which he sought it made his 
nickname, Sweetness, all the more ironic. It would take the rarest of 
diseases, barely pronounceable and unfortunately insurmountable, to 
finally bring Sweetness down.
  It was that passion that inspired Payton's first position coach, Fred 
O'Connor, to declare: ``God must have taken a chisel and said, `I'm 
going to make me a halfback.' '' Coach Ditka called Payton simply ``the 
greatest football player I've ever seen.'' Payton's eight National 
Football League (NFL) records, most of which still stand today, merely 
underscore his peerless performance on the field and his extraordinary 
life away from it. The man who wore number 34 distinguished himself as 
the greatest performer in the 80-year history of a team that boasts 
more Hall of Famers than any other team in League history.
  He played hurt many times throughout his career, and on one notable 
occasion, when he should have been hospitalized with a 102 degree 
fever, he played football. On that day, November 20, 1977, Payton 
turned in the greatest rushing performance in NFL history, rushing for 
a league record 275 yards en route to victory against the Minnesota 
Vikings.
  Self-assured but never cocky, Sweetness had no interest in indulging 
the media by uttering the self-aggrandizing sound bites that are all 
too common among today's athletes. Instead, he would praise the 
blocking efforts of fullback Matt Suhey or his offensive linemen, all 
of whom were inextricably linked to the surfeit of records he amassed. 
He play the game with a rare humility--refusing to call attention to 
himself--always recognizing the individuals who paved the way for his 
achievements.
  He once refused to be interviewed by former Ms. America Phyllis 
George unless his entire corps of linemen were included. Following his 
first 1,000 yard rushing season, Payton bought his offensive linemen 
engraved watches. The engraving, however, made no mention of the 1,390 
yards he finished with that year, but instead noted the score of the 
game in which he reached 1,000 yards, underscoring the essential 
contributions that his offensive linemen made in enabling him to 
achieve this feat.
  And how many times did we see Walter Payton dance down the field, a 
limp leg, a quick cut, a break-away. He could find daylight in a 
crowded elevator. And when a tackler finally brought him down, Walter 
Payton would jump to his feet and reach down to help his tackler up. 
That's the kind of football player he was. That's the kind of person he 
was.
  Payton lightened the atmosphere at Hallas Hall with an often 
outlandish sense of humor, even during the years when the Bears 
received boos from the fans and scathing criticism from the press. 
Rookies in training camp were often greeted by firecrackers in their 
locker room and unsuspecting teammates often faced a series of pranks 
when they turned their backs on Payton. Just last week, as Payton was 
clinging to life, he sent Suhey on a trip to Hall of Famer Mike 
Singletary's house, but not before he gave Suhey a series of incorrect 
addresses and directed Suhey to hide a hamburger and a malt in 
Singletary's garage.
  While Payton lived an unparalleled life on the football field, he 
also lived a very full life off the field. He was a brilliant 
businessman, but never too busy to devote countless hours to charitable 
deeds, most of which were unsolicited and voluntary. Sweetness shared 
with us a sense of humanity that will endure as long as his records. I 
had the good fortune on July 4th to meet his wife and children, who are 
equally fine people. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree. 
Jarrett Payton, like his father, decided to try out for football in his 
Junior Year. Jarrett was a standout at St. Viator High School in 
Arlington Heights, a Chicago suburb, and he is now playing football at 
the University of Miami. It looks as if he may have quite a career of 
his own.
  In his last year, Walter Payton helped illuminate the plight of 
individuals who are afflicted with diseases that require organ 
transplants. Patients with the rare liver disease that Payton 
contracted, primary sclerosing cholangitis (PSC), have a 90% chance of 
surviving more than one year if they receive a liver transplant. 
Unfortunately, the need for donations greatly exceeds the demand. The 
longer that patients wait on the organ donation list, the more likely 
it is that their health will deteriorate. In Payton's case, the risk of 
deadly complications, which included bile duct cancer, grew too 
quickly. Payton likely would have had to wait years for his life-saving 
liver. This was time he did not have before cancer took his life 
yesterday. A day when everyone who needs a life-saving organ can be 
treated with one cannot come soon enough.
  More than 66,000 men, women, and children are currently awaiting the 
chance to prolong their lives by finding a matching donor. Minorities, 
who comprise approximately 25% of the population, represent over 40% of 
this organ transplant waiting list. Because of these alarming 
statistics, thirteen people die each day while waiting for a donated 
liver, heart, kidney, or other organ. Half of these deaths are people 
of color. The untimely death of Payton is a wake-up call for each of us 
to become organ donors and discuss our intentions with our families so 
that we do not lose another hero, or a son, a daughter, a mother or a 
father to a disease that can be overcome with an organ transplant.
  Mr. President, today is a sad day in Chicago and in our nation. We 
have lost a father, a husband, a friend, and a role model all at once. 
While we are overcome with grief, we are also reminded of the blessings 
that Payton bestowed upon his wife, Corrine, his children, Jarrett and 
Brittney, and the city of Chicago during his brief time with us.
  So thanks for the memories, Sweetness. Soldier Field will never be 
the same.

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